“Stand back, there,” said a firm voice. “Why, Martin! don’t you remember me?”
And Gabriel laid a kindly hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Oh, Mr. Harford, don’t ye let them hang me,” said the verger, clutching at the young lieutenant.
“No one shall touch a hair of your head,” said Gabriel, “but out with the keys, my friend, for we must lose no time.”
Martin obeyed, trembling like a palsied man, and Gabriel, unlocking the door, rushed at full speed up the crumbling and worn steps, then up a crazy and tottering ladder which led to the trap-door in the leads. Springing through this, he emerged on to the top of the tower and had quickly arranged his musketeers on the side from which they could best harass the men on the walls and at St. Owen’s Gate. The church stood in the centre of the road which passed round it on the north and south sides, and the musketeers not only carried on a very effective warfare from the tower, but drew the attention of the besieged from the main attack which was made by Massey on Widemarsh Gate.
His onslaught proved so vigorous that the terrified citizens ere long sounded a parley, and, Waller consenting to treat, the rest of the day passed in tedious arrangements about hostages, and proposals as to the terms of surrender.
Gabriel had little fear that the citizens of Hereford would have any just cause of complaint, for Sir William Waller was noted for his forbearance and courtesy, and the people had no reason to fear the looting or plundering too often the sequel to a victory. The entry was made quietly enough that evening and two of the articles dictated by Sir William Waller were specially pleasing to Gabriel: All ladies and gentlewomen were to have honourable usage; and the Bishop, the Dean and Chapter, and the collegiates were likewise to be free in their persons from violence and in their goods from plunder.
That so ardent a Royalist as Hilary should be sore and angry at the easy way in which the Parliamentary troops had taken possession of the place was natural enough. She was in her hardest mood the next morning when Durdle came up to the sick-room with a beaming face.
“Mr. Gabriel Harford is below, come to inquire after Mistress Unett’s health,” she exclaimed, her little grey eyes beaming with the pleasure of again seeing the lad she had known so long. “And he craves a word with you, Mistress Hilary. I have shown him into the dining-room.”
Amazed at his temerity in calling, Hilary did not pause to think of the long years of friendship that had preceded their betrothal.
“It is just like his audacity to come here now that his side has conquered, and we are in trouble,” she reflected. “I will show him how little I care for his rebel comrades and their chief.”