The White Gauntlet Part 69

Their surprise was so great, that the drinking cups instantly dropped from their grasp; though for a good while, not one of them was able to recover his reins--which the lubberly attendants had in the most stupid manner hauled over the heads of their horses!

It did not diminish their astonishment to see the escaping prisoner pull up as he approached the bridge; raise his fingers to his lips; and give utterance to a shrill whistle, that came pealing back upon the ears of the crowd.

It did not diminish their astonishment, to hear a horse neighing--as if in reply to that strange signal. On the contrary, it increased it.

Their surprise reached its climax when they saw that, of all their number. Cornet Stubbs was the only one who had the presence of mind-- the courage and command of himself and his horse--to start immediately in pursuit!

That he had done so there could be no mistake. The black charger went sweeping past them like a bolt fired from a culverin--close following upon the heels of the fugitive, with Cornet Stubbs seated in the saddle, apparently urging the pursuit.

Alas! for Cornet Stubbs! He was not long allowed to enjoy an honour, as unexpected as unsought; no longer than while his fiery steed was galloping over the ground towards the spot where the troop horse had been hauled up.

As the two steeds came into contiguity, Stubbs became sensible of a strong hand clutching him by the gorget, and jerking him out of his stirrups. The next moment he felt a shock, as if he had been hurled heavily to the earth. He did, by Ged!

Although all this pa.s.sed confusedly before his mind, the spectators saw every movement with perfect distinctness. They saw the cornet lifted out of his saddle, and pitched into the middle of the road. They saw the cavalier, who had accomplished this feat, change horses with him whom he had unhorsed--without setting foot to the ground; and, amidst the wild huzzas that greeted the achievement, they saw the blade horseman once more firmly seated astride his own steed, and galloping triumphantly away.

The cheer was an utterance of the most enthusiastic joy--in which every individual in the crowd appeared to have had a voice--the discomfited cuira.s.siers excepted. It was the true English "hurrah," springing from the heart of a people--ever ready to applaud an exploit of bold and dangerous daring.

Why was it not protracted: for it was not? It subsided almost on the instant that it had arisen--ere its echoes had ceased reverberating from the walls of the adjacent houses!

It was succeeded by a silence solemn and profound; and then, by a murmuring indicative of some surprise--sudden as that which had called forth the shout, but of a less pleasant nature.

No one asked the cause of that silence; though all were inquiring _the cause of what had caused it_.

The astonishment of the spectators had sprung from the behaviour of the black horseman--which at the crisis appeared singular. Having reached the central point of the bridge, instead of continuing his course, he was seen suddenly to rein up--and with such violence, as to bring his horse back upon his haunches, till his sweeping tail lay scattered over the causeway! The movement was instantly followed by another. The horse, having regained an erect att.i.tude, was seen to head, first in one direction, then into another--as if his rider was still undecided which course he should take.

The spectators at first thought it was some fault of the animal; that he had baulked at some obstacle, and become restive.

In a few seconds they were undeceived; and the true cause of this interruption to the flight of the fugitive became apparent to all--in the waving plumes and glittering helmets that appeared beyond, rising above the cope-stones of the parapet.

Another troop of cuira.s.siers--larger than the first--was coming along the road in the direction of the bridge. It was Scarthe, and his squadron!

Already had the foremost files readied the termination of the parapet walls; and were advancing at a trot towards the centre of the arch. In that direction Holtspur's retreat was cut off--as completely as if he had entered within a _cul de sac_.

He saw it, and had turned to ride back; but by this time the troopers who accompanied Stubbs, stirred to energetic action by the trick played upon them, had recovered their reins, and were making all haste to pursue the prisoner. The corporal who commanded them--for the cornet still lay senseless upon the road--had succeeded in getting them into some sort of a forward movement; and they were now advancing in all haste towards the bridge.

For a moment the black horseman appeared undecided how to act. To gallop in either direction was to rush upon certain death, or certain capture. On each side was a troop of cuira.s.siers with drawn sabres, and carbines ready to be discharged; while the s.p.a.ce between the two squadrons was shut in--partly by the parapet walls of the bridge, and partly by the palings that continued them.

For a man unarmed, however well mounted, to run _the gauntlet_, in either direction, was plainly an impossibility; and would only have been attempted by one reckless of life, and determined to throw it away.

I have said, that for a moment Holtspur appeared irresolute. The spectators beheld his irresolution with hearts throbbing apprehensively.

It was but for a moment; and then, the black steed was seen suddenly to turn head towards the town, and came trotting back over the bridge!

Some believed that his rider had repented of his rashness, and was about to deliver himself up to the guard, from whom he had escaped. Others were under the impression, that he intended to run the gauntlet, and was choosing the weaker party through which to make the attempt.

Neither conjecture was the correct one: as was proved the instant after--when Holtspur suddenly setting his horse transverse to the direction of the causeway, and giving the n.o.ble animal a simultaneous signal by voice, hand, and heel, sprang him over the palings into the meadow below!

The taunting cry shouted back, as he galloped off over the green sward-- a cry that more than once had tortured the ears of pursuing Indians--was heard above the vociferous huzza that greeted his escape from Scarthe and his discomfited followers.

The shots fired after him had no effect. In those days a marksman was a character almost unknown; and the bullet of a carbine was scarce more dreaded, than the shaft of the clumsy cross-bow.

The pursuit continued by the cuira.s.siers along the verdant banks of the Colne, was more for the purpose of saving appearances, than from any hope of overtaking the fugitive. Before his pursuers could clear the obstacle that separated them from the mead, and place themselves upon his track, the "black horseman" appeared like a dark speck--rapidly diminis.h.i.+ng in size, as he glided onward towards the wild heaths of Iver.

Volume Three, Chapter X.

In the days of Charles (the Martyr!) a state prisoner was not such a _rara avis_ as at present. Laud had his list, and Strafford also--that n.o.ble but truculent tool of a tyrant--who ended his life by becoming himself a state prisoner--the most distinguished of all.

A gentleman denounced, and taken to the Tower, was anything but a rare event; and created scarce more sensation than would at the present day the capture of a swell-mobsman.

The arrest of Henry Holtspur pa.s.sed over as a common occurrence. His rescue and escape were of a less common character; though even these served only for a nine days' wonder in the mind of the general public.

There were few who understood exactly how the rescue had been brought about; or how that crowd of "disloyal knaves"--as they were termed by the king's partisans--had come to be so opportunely a.s.sembled in front of the "Rose and Crown."

No one seemed to know whither the fugitive had betaken himself--not even rumour. It was only conjectured that he had sought concealment--and found it--in that grand hiding place, safe as the desert itself: London.

For those attainted with "treasonable proclivities" towards the tyrant king, the great city was, at that time, a safer asylum than any other part of his kingdom.

The cuira.s.sier captain had done all in his power, to hinder the event from obtaining general publicity. He had not reported at head quarters, either the arrest or what followed; and he had been equally remiss of duty, in permitting the circ.u.mstances of Holtspur's rescue to pa.s.s without investigation.

He still clung to the hope of being able to effect his recapture; and to that end he employed--though in a clandestine manner--all the influence he could bring to his aid. He despatched secret agents into different parts of the country; and no communication--not even a letter--could enter the mansion of Sir Marmaduke Wade, without Captain Scarthe knowing the nature of its contents.

During this period, his position in the quarters he occupied, may be regarded as somewhat anomalous. A certain intimacy had become established between him and the family of his host. How far it was friendly, on either side, was a question.

A stranger, or superficial observer, might have fancied it so--on the part of Scarthe even cordial.

Ever since the first day of his residence under the roof of Sir Marmaduke, he had held his troopers in strict subordination: so strict as to have given these worthies no slight offence. But Captain Scarthe was a commander not to be trifled with; and his followers knew it.

For every little incident of trouble or annoyance, occurring to the inmates of the mansion, ample apologies were rendered; and it might have been imagined, that the king's cuira.s.siers had been sent to Bulstrode as a guard of honour to attend upon its owner, rather than a "billet" to live at his expense!

These delicate attentions to Sir Marmaduke, sprang not from any motive of chivalry or kindness; they were simply designed for the securing of his daughter. Scarthe wanted her heart, as well as her hand. The former, because he loved her, with all the fierce pa.s.sion of a soul highly gifted, though ill-guided; the latter, because he coveted her fortune: for Marion Wade, in addition to her transcendant charms, was heiress to a n.o.ble domain. She was endowed second to none in the s.h.i.+re; for a separate property was hers, independent of the estate of Bulstrode. Scarthe knew it; and for this reason desired to have her hand, along with her heart.

Failing to win the latter, he might still hope to obtain the former; which, with the fortune that accompanied it, would go far towards consoling his disappointed vanity.

Whether loving him or not, he was determined Marion Wade should be his wife; and, if fair means should not serve for the execution of his project, he would not scruple to make use of the contrary. He was ready to avail himself of that terrible secret--of which he had become surrept.i.tiously possessed.

The life of Sir Marmaduke Wade lay upon his lips. The knight was, at that moment, as much in his power, as if standing in the presence of the Star Chamber, with a score of witnesses to swear to his treason.

It needed but a word from Scarthe to place him in that dread presence; and the latter knew it. A sign to his followers, and his host might have been transformed into his prisoner!

He had not much fear, that he would ever be called upon to carry matters to such an ill-starred extreme. He had too grand a reliance upon his own irresistibility with the s.e.x. The man, whom he had originally believed to be his rival, now out of Marion's sight, appeared to be also out of her mind; and, during his absence, Scarthe had been every day becoming more convinced--his wish being father to the thought--that the relations.h.i.+p between Marion and Holtspur had not been of an amatory character.

The bestowal of the glove might have been a mere complimentary favour, for some service rendered? Such gifts were not uncommon; and tokens worn in hats or helmets were not always emblematic of the tender pa.s.sion. The short acquaintances.h.i.+p that had existed between them--for Scarthe had taken pains to inform himself on this head--gave some colour to his conjecture; at least, it was pleasant for him to think so.

Women, in those days, were the most potent politicians. It was a woman who had brought on the war with Spain--another who had caused the interference in Flanders--a woman who had led to our artificial alliance with France--a woman who, then as now, ruled England!

Marion Wade was a woman--just such an one as might be supposed to wield the destinies of a nation. Her political sentiments were no secret to the royalist officer. His own creed, and its partisans, were often the victims of her satirical sallies; and he could not doubt of her republican inclinings.

It might be only that sort of sympathy thus existed between her and Holtspur?

Had he been an eye-witness to her behaviour--throughout that eventful day on which the conspirator had made his escape--he might have found it more difficult to reconcile himself to this pleasant belief. Her sad countenance, as, looking from the lattice, she once more beheld her lover in the power of his enemies--once more in vile bonds--might have proved, to the most uninterested observer, the existence of a care which love alone could create. Could he have seen her during the interval which transpired--between the time when the prisoner was borne off towards his perilous prison, and the return of the mounted messenger who told of his escape--he might have been convinced of an anxiety, which love alone can feel.