Peveril of the Peak Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  _Fang._--A rescue! a rescue! _Mrs. Quickly._--Good people, bring a rescue or two. --Henry IV. _Part I._

  The followers of Peveril were so well accustomed to the sound of "Bootand Saddle," that they were soon mounted and in order; and in all theform, and with some of the dignity of danger, proceeded to escort theCountess of Derby through the hilly and desert tract of country whichconnects the frontier of the shire with the neighbouring county ofCheshire. The cavalcade moved with considerable precaution, whichthey had been taught by the discipline of the Civil Wars. One wary andwell-mounted trooper rode about two hundred yards in advance; followed,at about half that distance, by two more, with their carabines advanced,as if ready for action. About one hundred yards behind the advance, camethe main body; where the Countess of Derby, mounted on Lady Peveril'sambling palfrey (for her own had been exhausted by the journey fromLondon to Martindale Castle), accompanied by one groom, of approvedfidelity, and one waiting-maid, was attended and guarded by the Knightof the Peak, and three files of good and practised horsemen. In the rearcame Whitaker, with Lance Outram, as men of especial trust, to whom thecovering the retreat was confided. They rode, as the Spanish proverbexpresses it, "with the beard on the shoulder," looking around, thatis, from time to time, and using every precaution to have the speediestknowledge of any pursuit which might take place.

  But, however wise in discipline, Peveril and his followers were somewhatremiss in civil policy. The Knight had communicated to Whitaker, thoughwithout any apparent necessity, the precise nature of their presentexpedition; and Whitaker was equally communicative to his comrade Lance,the keeper. "It is strange enough, Master Whitaker," said the latter,when he had heard the case, "and I wish you, being a wise man, wouldexpound it;--why, when we have been wishing for the King--and prayingfor the King--and fighting for the King--and dying for the King, forthese twenty years, the first thing we find to do on his return, is toget into harness to resist his warrant?"

  "Pooh! you silly fellow," said Whitaker, "that is all you know of thetrue bottom of our quarrel! Why, man, we fought for the King's personagainst his warrant, all along from the very beginning; for I rememberthe rogues' proclamations, and so forth, always ran in the name of theKing and Parliament."

  "Ay! was it even so?" replied Lance. "Nay, then, if they begin the oldgame so soon again, and send out warrants in the King's name against hisloyal subjects, well fare our stout Knight, say I, who is ready to takethem down in their stocking-soles. And if Bridgenorth takes the chaseafter us, I shall not be sorry to have a knock at him for one."

  "Why, the man, bating he is a pestilent Roundhead and Puritan," saidWhitaker, "is no bad neighbour. What has he done to thee, man?"

  "He has poached on the manor," answered the keeper.

  "The devil he has!" replied Whitaker. "Thou must be jesting, Lance.Bridgenorth is neither hunter nor hawker; he hath not so much of honestyin him."

  "Ay, but he runs after game you little think of, with his sour,melancholy face, that would scare babes and curdle milk," answeredLance.

  "Thou canst not mean the wenches?" said Whitaker; "why, he hath beenmelancholy mad with moping for the death of his wife. Thou knowest ourlady took the child, for fear he should strangle it for putting him inmind of its mother, in some of his tantrums. Under her favour, and amongfriends, there are many poor Cavaliers' children, that care would bebetter bestowed upon--But to thy tale."

  "Why, thus it runs," said Lance. "I think you may have noticed, MasterWhitaker, that a certain Mistress Deborah hath manifested a certainfavour for a certain person in a certain household."

  "For thyself, to wit," answered Whitaker; "Lance Outram, thou art thevainest coxcomb----"

  "Coxcomb?" said Lance; "why, 'twas but last night the whole family sawher, as one would say, fling herself at my head."

  "I would she had been a brickbat then, to have broken it, for thyimpertinence and conceit," said the steward.

  "Well, but do but hearken. The next morning--that is, this very blessedmorning--I thought of going to lodge a buck in the park, judging a bitof venison might be wanted in the larder, after yesterday's wassail;and, as I passed under the nursery window, I did but just look up to seewhat madam governante was about; and so I saw her, through thecasement, whip on her hood and scarf as soon as she had a glimpse of me.Immediately after I saw the still-room door open, and made sure she wascoming through the garden, and so over the breach and down to the park;and so, thought I, 'Aha, Mistress Deb, if you are so ready to danceafter my pipe and tabor, I will give you a couranto before you shallcome up with me.' And so I went down Ivy-tod Dingle, where the copse istangled, and the ground swampy, and round by Haxley-bottom, thinking allthe while she was following, and laughing in my sleeve at the round Iwas giving her."

  "You deserved to be ducked for it," said Whitaker, "for a weather-headedpuppy; but what is all this Jack-a-lantern story to Bridgenorth?"

  "Why, it was all along of he, man," continued Lance, "that is, ofBridgenorth, that she did not follow me--Gad, I first walked slow, andthen stopped, and then turned back a little, and then began to wonderwhat she had made of herself, and to think I had borne myself somethinglike a jackass in the matter."

  "That I deny," said Whitaker, "never jackass but would have borne himbetter--but go on."

  "Why, turning my face towards the Castle, I went back as if I had mynose bleeding, when just by the Copely thorn, which stands, you know, aflight-short from the postern-gate, I saw Madam Deb in close conferencewith the enemy."

  "What enemy?" said the steward.

  "What enemy! why, who but Bridgenorth? They kept out of sight, and amongthe copse; but, thought I, it is hard if I cannot stalk you, that havestalked so many bucks. If so, I had better give my shafts to be puddingpins. So I cast round the thicket, to watch their waters; and may Inever bend crossbow again, if I did not see him give her gold, andsqueeze her by the hand!"

  "And was that all you saw pass between them?" said the steward.

  "Faith, and it was enough to dismount me from my hobby," said Lance."What! when I thought I had the prettiest girl in the Castle dancingafter my whistle, to find that she gave me the bag to hold, and wassmuggling in a corner with a rich old Puritan!"

  "Credit me, Lance, it is not as thou thinkest," said Whitaker."Bridgenorth cares not for these amorous toys, and thou thinkest ofnothing else. But it is fitting our Knight should know that he has metwith Deborah in secret, and given her gold; for never Puritan gave goldyet, but it was earnest for some devil's work done, or to be done."

  "Nay, but," said Lance, "I would not be such a dog-bolt as to go andbetray the girl to our master. She hath a right to follow her fancy, asthe dame said who kissed her cow--only I do not much approve her choice,that is all. He cannot be six years short of fifty; and a verjuicecountenance, under the penthouse of a slouched beaver, and bag ofmeagre dried bones, swaddled up in a black cloak, is no such temptation,methinks."

  "I tell you once more," said Whitaker, "you are mistaken; and that thereneither is, nor can be, any matter of love between them, but only someintrigue, concerning, perhaps, this same noble Countess of Derby. I tellthee, it behoves my master to know it, and I will presently tell it tohim."

  So saying, and in spite of all the remonstrances which Lance continuedto make on behalf of Mistress Deborah, the steward rode up to themain body of their little party, and mentioned to the Knight, and theCountess of Derby, what he had just heard from the keeper, adding atthe same time his own suspicions, that Master Bridgenorth of MoultrassieHall was desirous to keep up some system of espial in the Castle ofMartindale, either in order to secure his menaced vengeance on theCountess of Derby, as authoress of his brother-in-law's death, or forsome unknown, but probably sinister purpose.

  The Knight of the Peak was filled with high resentment at Whitaker'scommunication. According to his prejudices, those of the oppositefaction were supposed to make up by wit and intrigu
e what they wantedin open force; and he now hastily conceived that his neighbour,whose prudence he always respected, and sometimes even dreaded, wasmaintaining for his private purposes, a clandestine correspondence witha member of his family. If this was for the betrayal of his noble guest,it argued at once treachery and presumption; or, viewing the whole asLance had done, a criminal intrigue with a woman so near the personof Lady Peveril, was in itself, he deemed, a piece of sovereignimpertinence and disrespect on the part of such a person as Bridgenorth,against whom Sir Geoffrey's anger was kindled accordingly.

  Whitaker had scarce regained his post in the rear, when he again quittedit, and galloped to the main body with more speed than before, with theunpleasing tidings that they were pursued by half a score of horseman,and better.

  "Ride on briskly to Hartley-nick," said the Knight, "and there, withGod to help, we will bide the knaves.--Countess of Derby--one word anda short one--Farewell!--you must ride forward with Whitaker and anothercareful fellow, and let me alone to see that no one treads on yourskirts."

  "I will abide with you and stand them," said the Countess; "you know ofold, I fear not to look on man's work."

  "You _must_ ride on, madam," said the Knight, "for the sake of the youngEarl, and the rest of my noble friends' family. There is no manly workwhich can be worth your looking upon; it is but child's play that thesefellows bring with them."

  As she yielded a reluctant consent to continue her flight, they reachedthe bottom of Hartley-nick, a pass very steep and craggy, and where theroad, or rather path, which had hitherto passed over more open ground,became pent up and confined betwixt copsewood on the one side, and, onthe other, the precipitous bank of a mountain stream.

  The Countess of Derby, after an affectionate adieu to Sir Geoffrey,and having requested him to convey her kind commendations to her littlepage-elect and his mother, proceeded up the pass at a round pace, andwith her attendants and escort, was soon out of sight. Immediately aftershe had disappeared, the pursuers came up with Sir Geoffrey Peveril, whohad divided and drawn up his party so as completely to occupy the roadat three different points.

  The opposite party was led, as Sir Geoffrey had expected, by MajorBridgenorth. At his side was a person in black, with a silver greyhoundon his arm; and he was followed by about eight or ten inhabitants of thevillage of Martindale Moultrassie, two or three of whom were officers ofthe peace, and others were personally known to Sir Geoffrey as favourersof the subverted government.

  As the party rode briskly up, Sir Geoffrey called to them to halt; andas they continued advancing, he ordered his own people to present theirpistols and carabines; and after assuming that menacing attitude, herepeated, with a voice of thunder, "Halt, or we fire!"

  The other party halted accordingly, and Major Bridgenorth advanced, asif to parley.

  "Why, how now, neighbour," said Sir Geoffrey, as if he had at thatmoment recognised him for the first time,--"what makes you ride sosharp this morning? Are you not afraid to harm your horse, or spoil yourspurs?"

  "Sir Geoffrey," said the Major, "I have not time for jesting--I'm on theKing's affairs."

  "Are you sure it is not upon Old Noll's, neighbour? You used to hold histhe better errand," said the Knight, with a smile which gave occasion toa horse-laugh among his followers.

  "Show him your warrant," said Bridgenorth to the man in black formerlymentioned, who was a pursuivant. Then taking the warrant from theofficer, he gave it to Sir Geoffrey--"To this, at least, you will payregard."

  "The same regard which you would have paid to it a month back or so,"said the Knight, tearing the warrant to shreds.--"What a plague do youstare at? Do you think you have a monopoly of rebellion, and that wehave not a right to show a trick of disobedience in our turn?"

  "Make way, Sir Geoffrey Peveril," said Bridgenorth, "or you will compelme to do that I may be sorry for. I am in this matter the avenger ofthe blood of one of the Lord's saints, and I will follow the chase whileHeaven grants me an arm to make my way."

  "You shall make no way here but at your peril," said Sir Geoffrey; "thisis my ground--I have been harassed enough for these twenty years bysaints, as you call yourselves. I tell you, master, you shall neitherviolate the security of my house, nor pursue my friends over thegrounds, nor tamper, as you have done, amongst my servants, withimpunity. I have had you in respect for certain kind doings, which Iwill not either forget or deny, and you will find it difficult to makeme draw a sword or bend a pistol against you; but offer any hostilemovement, or presume to advance a foot, and I will make sure of youpresently. And for those rascals, who come hither to annoy a noble ladyon my bounds, unless you draw them off, I will presently send some ofthem to the devil before their time."

  "Make room at your proper peril," said Major Bridgenorth; and he puthis right hand on his holster-pistol. Sir Geoffrey closed with himinstantly, seized him by the collar, and spurred Black Hastings,checking him at the same time, so that the horse made a courbette, andbrought the full weight of his chest against the counter of the other. Aready soldier might, in Bridgenorth's situation, have rid himself of hisadversary with a bullet. But Bridgenorth's courage, notwithstanding hishaving served some time with the Parliament army, was rather of a civilthan a military character; and he was inferior to his adversary, notonly in strength and horsemanship, but also and especially in the daringand decisive resolution which made Sir Geoffrey thrust himself readilyinto personal contest. While, therefore, they tugged and grappledtogether upon terms which bore such little accordance with their longacquaintance and close neighbourhood, it was no wonder that Bridgenorthshould be unhorsed with much violence. While Sir Geoffrey sprung fromthe saddle, the party of Bridgenorth advanced to rescue their leader,and that of the Knight to oppose them. Swords were unsheathed, andpistols presented; but Sir Geoffrey, with the voice of a herald,commanded both parties to stand back, and to keep the peace.

  The pursuivant took the hint, and easily found a reason for notprosecuting a dangerous duty. "The warrant," he said, "was destroyed.They that did it must be answerable to the Council; for his part, hecould proceed no farther without his commission."

  "Well said, and like a peaceable fellow!" said Sir Geoffrey.--"Lethim have refreshment at the Castle--his nag is sorely out ofcondition.--Come, neighbour Bridgenorth, get up, man--I trust you havehad no hurt in this mad affray? I was loath to lay hand on you, man,till you plucked out your petronel."

  As he spoke thus, he aided the Major to rise. The pursuivant, meanwhile,drew aside; and with him the constable and head-borough, who were notwithout some tacit suspicion, that though Peveril was interruptingthe direct course of law in this matter, yet he was likely to have hisoffence considered by favourable judges; and therefore it might be asmuch for their interest and safety to give way as to oppose him. But therest of the party, friends of Bridgenorth, and of his principles, kepttheir ground notwithstanding this defection, and seemed, from theirlooks, sternly determined to rule their conduct by that of their leader,whatever it might be.

  But it was evident that Bridgenorth did not intend to renew thestruggle. He shook himself rather roughly free from the hands of SirGeoffrey Peveril; but it was not to draw his sword. On the contrary, hemounted his horse with a sullen and dejected air; and, making a sign tohis followers, turned back the same road which he had come. Sir Geoffreylooked after him for some minutes. "Now, there goes a man," saidhe, "who would have been a right honest fellow had he not been aPresbyterian. But there is no heartiness about them--they can neverforgive a fair fall upon the sod--they bear malice, and that I hate as Ido a black cloak, or a Geneva skull-cap, and a pair of long ears risingon each side on't, like two chimneys at the gable ends of a thatchedcottage. They are as sly as the devil to boot; and, therefore, LanceOutram, take two with you, and keep after them, that they may not turnour flank, and get on the track of the Countess again after all."

  "I had as soon they should course my lady's white tame doe," answeredLance, in the spirit of his calling. He proceeded to execute hism
aster's orders by dogging Major Bridgenorth at a distance, andobserving his course from such heights as commanded the country. But itwas soon evident that no manoeuvre was intended, and that the Major wastaking the direct road homeward. When this was ascertained, Sir Geoffreydismissed most of his followers; and retaining only his own domestics,rode hastily forward to overtake the Countess.

  It is only necessary to say farther, that he completed his purposeof escorting the Countess of Derby to Vale Royal, without meeting anyfurther hindrance by the way. The lord of the mansion readily undertookto conduct the high-minded lady to Liverpool, and the task of seeing hersafely embarked for her son's hereditary dominions, where there was nodoubt of her remaining in personal safety until the accusation againsther for breach of the Royal Indemnity, by the execution of Christian,could be brought to some compromise.

  For a length of time this was no easy matter. Clarendon, then at thehead of Charles's administration, considered her rash action, thoughdictated by motives which the human breast must, in some respects,sympathise with, as calculated to shake the restored tranquillity ofEngland, by exciting the doubts and jealousies of those who had toapprehend the consequences of what is called, in our own time, a_reaction_. At the same time, the high services of this distinguishedfamily--the merits of the Countess herself--the memory of her gallanthusband--and the very peculiar circumstances of jurisdiction which tookthe case out of all common rules, pleaded strongly in her favour; andthe death of Christian was at length only punished by the imposition ofa heavy fine, amounting, we believe, to many thousand pounds; which waslevied, with great difficulty, out of the shattered estates of the youngEarl of Derby.