Legends of Longdendale

by Thomas Middleton

And sighting the weapon, he made ready to fire.

But at that moment came a diversion, and from an unexpected quarter; for in the doorway of the farm, directly behind the irate yeoman, there appeared the figure of a maid. She was the farmer’s daughter, and a maid of uncommon beauty; and the sight of so fair a daughter of Eve, bursting thus suddenly on the soldier’s vision, banished for one brief second the murderous purpose from his mind. He hesitated, let his eyes wander from the farmer to rest upon the figure of the girl. That second’s hesitation was fatal, for the hay-fork driven with force by the yeoman, took him in the shoulder, and tumbled him heavily to the ground. He had a confused sense of having done something very foolish and unsoldierlike, of falling with a thud from his horse, of a sharp pain in the shoulder, and then his senses left him.

When he recovered consciousness, the unfortunate Roundhead found himself lying on a couch inside the farmhouse. He was at first dimly aware that a somewhat heated discussion was going on in one quarter of the room, and that some person with gentle touch bent over him and tended to his hurts. In another moment, his senses having fully returned, he could distinguish the voices of the disputants, and knew that they were talking about himself.

The farmer’s wife, good mistress Cooke, was denouncing her husband’s folly in having wounded the soldier, and thus brought the man nigh to death, and the yeoman, himself, in grave danger of arrest, court martial, and the gallows.

“’Tis thy hot temper, of which I have so often spoken, and which thou never canst control, that has led thee into this mess—and a pretty mess it is, upon my conscience,” said the dame, “What harm had the poor fellow done to thee or thine, that thou must prod him with the fork, as thou dost a truss of hay, and tumble him headlong out of the saddle. A mercy it is he did not break his neck by the fall. As it is, he is not seriously hurt, though the back of his head will carry a lump for many a day, and his shoulder will be stiff enough for weeks. The next thing that will happen, I suppose, will be that thou wilt have the whole band of them—foot and horse—about the house, and they will carry thee away a prisoner, and I and the bairns will een be tumbled out upon the road-side.”

“Stop thy chatter,” growled the farmer, his courage somewhat overawed by the volubility and sting of his wife’s tongue. “Wouldst have me let a Roundhead knave, an enemy to the King, rob and plunder me of the grey mare, and a sheep from the fold, without using the hay-fork when ’tis in my hand. Death and damnation is too good for all such rogues.”

...“Death and damnation,” quoth the dame. “Death and damnation, forsooth. That is like to be thy reward for the business. Out of the room, man, for thy presence drives away my patience. Out thou goest, while I see if I can bring the poor fellow round, and make amends for thy fool’s folly.”

She bundled the farmer out, and at this moment the Roundhead opened his eyes. Then he shut them suddenly, as though some bright light had dazzled him, for there, bending close above him, was the bonny face of the maiden, whose dazzling beauty had been the cause of his undoing. She had been tending to his hurts, and was gazing at him anxiously, wondering the while if he were about to die.

The Roundhead did not long remain with closed eyes, for the vision of the maid was too sweet to lose for want of the effort of raising his lids. He gazed straight into her eyes, and smiled; and the girl, finding him fully alive, and conscious of her presence, blushed crimson, and drew backwards in confusion. Her movement attracted the dame, who by this time had got rid of her husband; and having no special desire to be the recipient of attentions from an old lady—no matter how estimable and kindly disposed she might be—the Roundhead, with an effort sat up. He had not been seriously injured by his fall, which had done nothing more than deprive him of his senses for a short time; and the thrust in the shoulder was nothing more serious than a flesh wound; now that the bleeding had been stopped, he was really little the worse for his misadventure.

“I thank you, madam,” said he to the farmer’s wife, “for your kindness and attention. Doubtless your good offices, and those of the young lady, have saved my life; and I promise you they shall not be forgotten in my report to my commanding officer.”