No Quarter! Part 16

At which the sergeant and a file of troopers, now also in the porch, commenced hammering away with the b.u.t.ts of their dragon-muzzled muskets.

But they might as well have attempted to batter down the walls themselves. Not the slightest impression could they make on the strong oaken panels. They were about to desist, when something besides that caused them suddenly to suspend their strokes, Lunsford himself commanding it. He at the same time sprang down from the porch and back to his saddle, calling on them to do likewise.

Odd as might seem his abrupt abandonment of the door-breaking design, there was no mystery in it. A cry sent up by the crowd of people had given him notice of something new; and that something he now saw in the shape of four hors.e.m.e.n sweeping round from the rear of the house. These were also outside the haw-haw, having crossed it by another causeway at back. A second shout greeted them as they got round to the front, and drew bridle in the midst of the crowd--a cheer in which new voices joined; those of the Ruardean men, just arrived upon the ground.

"Foresters?" cried Sir Richard, as they gathered in a ring around him, "will you allow Ambrose Powell to be plundered--your best friend? And by Sir John Wintour--your worst enemy?"

"No--never! That we won't?" answered a score of voices.

"Well, the soldiers you see there are Sir John's, from Lydney, though wearing the King's uniform?"

"We know 'em--too well!"

"Have seen their ugly faces afore."

"Curse Sir John, an' the King too?" were some of the responses showered back. Then one, delivering himself in less disjointed but equally ungrammatical phrase, took up the part of spokesman, saying,--

"We've niver had a hour o' peace since Sir John Wintour ha' been head man o' the Forest. He've robbed us o' our rights that be old as the Forest itself, keeps on robbin' us; claims the mines, an' the timber, an' the grazin' as all his own. An' the deer, too! Yes, the deer; the wild anymals as should belong to everybody free-born o' the Manor o'

Saint Briavel's. I'm that myself, an' stan' up here afore ye all to make protest agaynst his usurpins."

That the speaker was Rob Wilde might be deduced from allusion to the deer, p.r.o.nounced with special emphasis. And he it was.

"We join you in your protest, Rob; an'll stan' by you!" cried one.

"Yes! All of us!" exclaimed another.

"An' we'll help enforce it," came from a third. "If need be, now on the spot. We only want some 'un as'll show us the way--tell us what to do."

At this all eyes turned on Sir Richard. Though personally a stranger to most of them, all knew him by name, and something more--knew how he had declared for Parliament and people, against King and Court, and that it was no mere private quarrel between him and Sir John Wintour which had caused him to speak as he had done.

"Theer be the gentleman who'll do all that," said Rob, pointing to the knight. "The man to help us in gettin' back our rights an' redressin'

our wrong. If he can't, n.o.body else can. But he can and will. He ha'

told some o' us, as much."

Another huzza hailed this declaration, for they knew Rob spoke with authority. And their excitement rose to a still higher pitch, when the knight, responding, said,--

"My brave Foresters! Thanks for the confidence you give me. I know all your grievances, and am ready to do what I can to help you in righting them. And it had best begin now, on the spot, as some one has just said. Are _you_ ready to back me in teaching these usurpers a lesson?"

"Ready! That we be, every man o' us."

"Try us, an' see!"

"Only let's ha' the word from you, sir, an' well fall on 'em at once!"

"We're Foresters; we an't afeerd o' no soldiers--not sich raws as them, anyhow."

"Enough!" cried the knight, his eyes aglow as with triumph already achieved; for he now felt a.s.sured of it. Over two hundred of the Foresters against less than a sixth of that number of Lunsford's hirelings, he had no fear for the result, if fight they must. So, when he placed himself at their head, with Eustace Trevor by his side, their two armed attendants behind, and rode up to the gate guarded by the two troopers, he made no request for these to open it and let them pa.s.s in, but a demand, with sword unsheathed, and at back a forest of pikes to enforce it.

The guards at once gave way. Had they not, in another instant they would have been hoisted out of their saddles on the blades of weapons with shafts ten feet long. Alive to this danger, they briskly abandoned their post, giving the Foresters free pa.s.sage through the gate.

During all this time the ex-Lieutenant of the Tower had scarce moved an inch from the spot where he remounted his horse. When he saw the four hors.e.m.e.n coming around the house, heard the enthusiastic shout hailing them, at the same time caught sight of the pikes and barbed halberds, whose blades of steel gleamed above the heads of the huzzaing crowd, his heart sank within him. For this brutal monster, "b.l.o.o.d.y Lunsford" as he afterwards came to be called, was craven as cruel. He had swaggered at the front door as inside the Parliament House by the King's command; but there was no King at his back now, and his swaggering forsook him on the instant. He knew something of the character of the Foresters--his raw recruits knew them better--at a glance saw his troop overmatched, and, if it came to fighting, would be overpowered. But there was no fight, either in himself or his following; and all sat in their saddles sullen and scowling, but cowed-like as wolves just taken in a trap.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

"NO QUARTER!"

Straight on to the soldiers rode Sir Richard Eustace Trevor by his side, their mounted servants behind; the men afoot following close after in a surging ma.s.s. These, soon as well through the gate, extended line to right and left, turning the troop until they had it hemmed in on every side. Nor was it altogether the movement of a mob, but evidently under direction, Rob Wilde appearing to guide it more by signs and signals than any spoken words. However managed, the troopers now saw themselves environed by pikes and other pointed things--a very _chevaux de frise_-- held in the hands of men whose faces showed no fear of them. For the country had not yet been cursed by a standing army, and in the eyes of the citizen the soldier was not that formidable thing as since, and now.

Rather was the fear on the side of Lunsford's party, most of whom, Foresters themselves of the inferior sort, knew the men who stood confronting them.

Up to this moment no word had been spoken by their commanding officer, save some muttered speech he exchanged with Reginald Trevor. Nor did he now break the silence, leaving that to the intruders.

"Captain, or, as I understand you are now called, Colonel Lunsford,"

said Sir Richard, drawing up in front of him, "by the way you're behaving you appear to think yourself in the Low Countries, with rights of free forage and plunder. Let me tell you, sir, this is England, where such courses are not yet in vogue; and to be hoped never will be, even though a King authorise, ay, command them. But I command you, in the name of the people, to desist from them, or take the consequence."

Under such smart of words it might be supposed that a professional soldier and King's officer would have dared death itself, or any odds against him. It was of this the muttered speech had been pa.s.sing between him and Reginald Trevor, the latter urging him to risk it and fall on. Whatever else, _he_ was no dastard, and, though he had once given way on that same spot, it was not from cowardice, but ruled by a sentiment very different.

In vain his attempt to inspire his superior officer with courage equalling his own; no more would he have been successful with their followers, as he could see by looking along the line of faces, most of them showing dread of that threatening array of miscellaneous weapons, and a reluctance to engage them.

In fine, the ex-Lieutenant of the Tower made lip his mind to live a little longer, even at the risk of being stigmatised as a poltroon.

But, not instantly declaring himself--too confused and humiliated for speech--Sir Richard went on,--

"No doubt, sir, your delicate sense of humanity will restrain you from a conflict in which your soldiers must be defeated and their blood spilled uselessly--innocent lambs as they appear to be."

The irony elicited laughter from the Foresters; for a more forbidding set of faces than those of the troopers could not well have been seen anywhere.

"But," continued the knight, "if you decline to withdraw without showing how skilfully you can yourself handle a sword, I'm willing to give you the opportunity. You've had it from me before, and refused. But you may be a braver man, and think yourself a better swordsman now; so I offer it again."

The taunt was torture itself to the man in whose teeth it was flung.

All the more from the cheering and jibes of the Foresters, who seemed thoroughly to enjoy seeing Sir John Wintour's bullies thus brought to book. And still more that in the window above were two feminine faces, one of them that he had been so late admiring, the ladies evidently listening.

Notwithstanding all, Lunsford could not screw up courage for a combat he had once before declined, and now the second time shunned it, saying,--

"Sir Richard Walwyn, I am not here for the settlement of private quarrels. When the time fits for it I shall answer the challenge you say is repeated, but which I deny. My business at present is with Mr Ambrose Powell, as Deputy-Commissioner of Array, to collect the King's dues from him. Since he's refused to pay them, and I have no orders, nor wish, to use violence, so far as shedding blood, it but remains for me to take back his answer to my superiors."

It was such a ludicrous breakdown of his late bl.u.s.tering, and withdrawal of demand, that the Foresters hailed it with a loud huzza, mingled with laughter and satirical speech.

When their cheering had ceased, so that he could be heard, Sir Richard rejoined,--

"Yes; that is the best thing you can do. And the sooner you set about it the better for both yourself and your men, as you may be aware without further warning."

It was like giving the last kick to a cur, and as a cur Tom Lunsford took it, literally turning tail--that of his horse--upon Hollymead House.

Out through the haw-haw gate rode he, his troop behind, every man-jack of them looking cowed and crestfallen as himself.

Alone Reginald Trevor held high front, retiring with angry reluctance, as a lion driven from its quarry by hunters too numerous to be resisted.

But he pa.s.sed not away without holding speech with his cousin, on both sides bitterly recriminative.