CHAPTER VII
FACE TO FACE WITH DEATH
ASHLEY CASTLE presented its wonted appearance as my father and I approached it on our return journey.
The banner of the Markhams still proudly floated over the tower, the drawbridge was still guarded by a pikeman in the Markham livery, and the smoke still floated upwards from the kitchen chimneys in the keen autumnal air.
"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed my father, raising his plumed hat, and I knew that a great load had been lifted from his mind—a burden which I felt hardly less deeply than did he.
The warm-hearted greeting over, we eagerly asked for tidings concerning the renegade, Captain Chaloner, but on this matter we could not obtain any information, for, although it was known that the rebel captain had had the castle bestowed upon him by the Parliament, he had taken no active steps to secure possession of it.
Relying on the loyal support of his tenantry, my father knew that there was little chance of a surprise, yet he in no wise relaxed his vigilance.
Every available firearm was carefully examined, barrels of powder bought and stored in the capacious cellars, while piles of shot were placed in readiness by the side of the small pieces of ordnance on the leads of the hall. Vast quantities of imperishable provisions were collected, and an additional well was sunk within the inner courtyard, so that our water supply was assured.
Yet our preparations were seemingly in vain. Many months passed, and still no rebel Chaloner appeared to press his claim, while my father, owing to his increasing infirmities, was compelled, much against his will, to remain at home instead of giving his services to His Majesty in the field.
Colonel Firestone, however, had taken part in the affairs of Chalgrove Field and Newbury, and from time to time news came from him concerning the progress of the fearful civil war.
At length, in the month of May, 1644, the colonel himself arrived at Ashley Castle with the news that he was on his way, by Royal command, to take part in the operations in the west against the rebels under the Earl of Essex, and, at the colonel's suggestion, my father consented to let me go with him, greatly to my satisfaction.
Two years had made a great difference in my appearance. Although but very little taller, I had increased in girth, being broad-chested and full-limbed, while few would believe that I was but seventeen years of age. Thanks to clean-living and plenty of exercise in martial and open-air pursuits, I was strong, muscular, and active, yet withal (though I say it) I was of sound judgment, quick to act, and blessed with no small stock of intelligence.
It was a long journey by way of Winchester, Salisbury, and Exeter, but with little adventure we crossed the Tamar at a place called Calstock, and reached the Duchy of Cornwall.
It was nearly night when we reached this village, a collection of stone-built cottages rising in tiers from the west side of the river, which here describes a magnificent curve between lofty banks of tree-clad hills.
Our arrival caused no little stir amongst the villagers, for armed men were comparatively scarce in the neighbourhood, as the troops of either party, who were continually pouring into the Duchy, usually entered by the road betwixt Tavistock and Callington, or else between Plymouth and Saltash.
"Is there a decent and well-conducted inn hereabouts?" asked my companion, addressing a red-haired fellow in a grey smock.
"What do 'ee say?" replied the countryman, scratching his poll in obvious perplexity.
"An inn, dolt! An inn."
"There be one up yonder," said the man in a singsong voice. "'E be called the King's 'Ead, if 'ee be for the King, and the Stamford Arms, if 'ee be for the Parleymun. It be no worry to we, anyway."
"Let's try the King's Head," I remarked. "Though 'tis to be hoped that those who dub it after the Earl of Stamford may be not present."
"So be it," replied my companion, and riding up to the door of the inn, we dismounted and knocked.
From within came the sound of many voices engaged in lively conversation, and, finding that our summons was unanswered, Firestone pushed open the door and entered.
At the end of a stone passage was another door, partly opened, and to our surprise a well-known voice was heard:
"This, gentlemen, fully demonstrates the sovereign virtues possessed by my inimitable powder, of which I am agreeable to sell small portions at the price of one penny—one penny only, I say. Each portion capable of acting on four ounces of lead. 'Tis only in the goodness of my heart that I offer this priceless powder to His Majesty's subjects, and——"
"'Tis the arrogant rogue who bested us at Winchester!" I whispered.
"Ay! I knew it the moment I heard his voice. Listen."
"I ask no man to buy," continued the huckster. "'Tis to be regarded as a gift—no, sir, it must not be used under an hour, being but this evening made up—as a gift, I repeat; but to prevent an injudicious distribution, I am compelled to ask but one penny for this small quantity. I have demonstrated its powers to you, as I have done before princes of the blood, knights and gentlemen in London, York, Lincoln, Norwich, Exeter——"
"And Winchester, you rogue!" exclaimed the colonel, bursting into the room. "Where are our fifty pounds in gold?"
The self-styled merchant of Southampton was terrified at the sight of our sudden appearance. His knees smote together, his jaw dropped, and his lank, raven hair almost stood upright.
Gripping his shoulder, I forced him against the wall, and, thrusting back his sleeve, we discovered a cube of lead similar in shape to the one of silver which still lay on the table. Seeing the deception, the crowd, who had regarded us with little favour, began to cast imprecations on the impostor.
"We'll have this on account," said Colonel Firestone, pocketing the silver. "And now turn out his purse."
Eleven pounds in gold and over a pound in silver and copper were shaken out on the table, the wretched man making no resistance.
"Thirty-eight pounds to the had. What say you, sirrah?" demanded the colonel sternly. "Is it the hangman at Bodmin, where perchance thou'lt be cropped by the ears and branded on the face, and finish by dangling at the end of a stout hempen rope? What say you, I repeat?"
The wretch had sunk on his knees, mumbling incoherently. Suddenly he whipped out a long knife from the folds of his boot and lunged viciously, like a cornered rat, at the colonel. But ere the blow struck home I kicked the weapon from his grasp, sending it spinning to the low, raftered ceiling, where it stuck and vibrated with the force of its ascent.
"Wouldst add attempted murder to the list of your accomplishments?" asked Firestone contemptuously. "'Tis a pity we cannot waste time to see thee spinning round at the end of a halter, but we must needs take the law into our own hands. Canst swim?"
The man shook his head.
"Then up with him and cast him into the river," continued my companion, addressing the surrounding throng.
Eager hands seized the wretched purveyor of quack powders and bore him towards the river, Firestone and I following at the heels of the crowd.
"Shall us tie a stoane round the neck of he?" asked one of the villagers.
"Hither, my friend," replied Firestone, and as the man came nearer he continued in a low voice, inaudible to the miserable rogue: "We do not mean to kill the man, Get ready a rope to throw to him. And canst swim?"
"Ay," replied the villager. "Only the other day they gave I a jar o' small beer for swimmin' from Morwell'm——"
"Then I'll give you another if you have to go in and fetch him out; but don't go in, mind you, unless I give you word."
At the edge of the river was a small stone quay, below which the water flowed gently, only a few feet from the top of the wharf, it being nearly high tide. It was nearly dark, but the other bank was just discernible.
The men who had been cheated out of their hard-earned spending money entered into the punishment of the rascal with a will. Seized by the arms and legs by half a dozen lusty quarrymen, the terrified rogue was swung to and fro for a few seconds, his screams for mercy adding to the zest of his tormentors. Then, to the accompaniment of a loud shout, the men hurled him far into the river, where he disappeared with a heavy splash.
"He must be dead. He sank like a stone," I exclaimed, after what seemed to me a long interval.
"We've overdone it," shouted the colonel excitedly. "Quick, you; after him. Perchance he was winded by the fall," he added to the man who had boasted of his swimming prowess.
But before the man could throw off his heavy boots, the lank black hair of the Southampton merchant—as he termed himself, though falsely, as we knew too well—appeared above the surface, half-way across the stream, and with astonishing swiftness he struck out for the opposite shore.
"Why, the villain has cheated us again," I exclaimed. "See, he swims well."
"Try him with your pistols, sir," said the host of the inn.
"Nay, let him go, for he deserves it by his cunning," replied Firestone, and in silence we saw his dim outline draw itself from the water, and, rat-like, slink to cover in the shelter of the woods.
We returned to the inn, where Colonel Firestone repaid the men who had been duped by the rascal's ingenuity, out of the remaining money, retaining the leather purse as a trophy of the encounter, while our popularity was further assured by our host being ordered to broach a barrel of old ale at our expense, and till late in the night the simple countrymen sat carousing, singing quaint songs in their strange dialect, in blissful disregard of the fact that nearly the whole kingdom was torn asunder by civil war.
Next morning we were up betimes, and amid the cheers of the villagers, who had gathered to wish us good-speed, we resumed our journey westward, intending to reach Tregetty Castle, the Granvilles' home, before sunset.
Barely had we gone a couple of miles when the road, which was little better than a narrow lane, descended abruptly into a deep and dark valley, the pine trees throwing a sombre shade over our path.
Suddenly three horsemen appeared, reining in their horses to bar our path. There was no mistaking their intentions, and by their buff coats, iron caps, and clean-shaven visages we knew them to be Roundheads.
"Straight at them!" exclaimed Firestone, drawing sword and pistol, while I followed his example; but ere we could close, their numbers were increased by nearly a score.
Wheeling our horses, we essayed flight, but at the same moment a swarm of dismounted men leapt from the banks in our rear. We were hopelessly trapped.
Resistance was useless, and in a moment the troopers were upon us. We were deprived of our weapons, and rough hands seized us, binding our arms tightly behind our backs, while with many ribald jests at the hapless malignants they urged our horses in the same direction that we had been going.
But before we emerged from the valley the troopers halted, save a sergeant, who disappeared by a narrow path on the left-hand side of the lane. In a few minutes he returned, accompanied by two of the rebel officers, and with an involuntary exclamation of surprise and dismay I recognised one of them to be the traitor, Captain Chaloner.
Close behind him, his face distorted with a malevolent grin, was another acquaintance, Master Henry Cutler, the Southampton "merchant," whom, but a few hours previously, we had seen swimming across the Tamar.
"You have them securely, I hope, sergeant?" said Chaloner, rubbing his gloved hands in evident enjoyment.
"Safely bound, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"'Tis well. Now, sirrahs, what have you to say for yourselves? Malignants and robbers to boot, ye are arrested in the name of the Parliament of England and charged with robbing with violence this man, Henry Cutler. What have ye to say?"
"My purse! My purse!" exclaimed the huckster, producing his leather bag from the colonel's pocket. "See, sir, this proves my story. My papers are still in it."
"They are guilty beyond doubt," replied Chaloner, "e'en though they speak not a word. Hi! Bring hither the halters!" he shouted to a trooper.
Without delay a noose was placed round each of our necks, while another trooper climbed to the lowermost branch of a pine tree that overgrew the road.
After one or two attempts he caught the ends of the ropes, passed them over the bough, and let the free end fall to the ground. Five or six men grasped each rope and awaited the signal to haul us, kicking and struggling in our death agonies, from the backs of our horses.
In those awful moments my senses were completely numbed. I was dimly conscious only of the noise of the trickling stream and the notes of the feathered songsters overhead. Even this ignominious ending by being hanged did not seem to trouble me, for I understood in a measure the meaning of the words, "The bitterness of death is past." What I could not quite understand was the fact that our executioners delayed their work.
Then, above the babbling of the stream, I heard the sound of horses rapidly approaching, and, the mist clearing before our eyes, I saw a knot of Parliamentary officers gallop up.
"What's this? Who commands this troop?" demanded the senior officer, a tall, thin, yet not unpleasant-looking man, whose clear-cut features were partly hidden by a heavy bristling moustache and a tuft of hair on his chin.
"I, sir, Captain Chaloner," replied that worthy, saluting with his drawn sword.
"Then pray explain the circumstances of this summary act; are these prisoners of war?"
"They are malignants, murderers, and highway robbers to boot," said Chaloner.
"Nay, sir, 'tis false," interjected Colonel Firestone. "We are soldiers of His Majesty, 'tis true, but neither murderers nor highwaymen. I look to you, sir, to protect us from the indignity of being strung up without the chance of a word in our defence."
"I will go further into the matter anon," said the Roundhead officer. "Captain Chaloner, where is the rendezvous of your troop?"
"At the town of Lostwithiel, sir."
"Then take your prisoners thither. I hold you responsible for their safety and custody. Be assured," he added, addressing us, "that you will have a fair and impartial trial. If found guilty of robbery, on my solemn word I'll have you strung up as a warning to others; if not. I must needs keep you as prisoners of war."
Chaloner again saluted as his superior and his officers rode off; then, scowling blankly with ill-concealed hatred, he ordered his troop to fall in, and, with Firestone and I still bound in their midst, the Roundheads set off at a trot towards their headquarters.