CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.
A HOUSE ON FIRE.
The moon had risen, but only to be seen at intervals. Heavy cumulidrifting sluggishly athwart the sky, now and then drew curtain-like overher disk, making the earth dark as Erebus. Between these recurrentcloud eclipses, however, her light was of the clearest; for theatmosphere otherwise was without haze or mist.
She was shining in full effulgence, as a body of horsemen commencedbreasting the pitch which winds up from Mitcheldean to the Wilderness.Their distinctive standard was sheathed--not needing display in thenight; but the green uniforms, and the cocks'-tail feathers plumingtheir hats, told them to be Walwyn's Horse--the Foresters.
They were still wet with the flood-water through which they had wadedafter clearing the gates of Gloucester. Their horses too; the coats ofthese further darkened by sweat, save where the flakes of white froth,tossed back on their necks and counters, gave them a piebald appearance.All betokened a terrible pace, and such had they kept up, scarceslowing for an instant from the flood's edge till they entered the townof Mitcheldean.
Then it was but a momentary halt in the street, and without leaving thesaddle; just long enough to inquire whether Master Ambrose Powell hadthat day passed through the place. He had; late in the afternoon. Onhorseback, without any attendant, and apparently in great haste.
"Prisoner or not, they have him at Hollymead now," observed Sir Richardto Eustace Trevor, as they trotted on through the town to the foot ofthe hill where the road runs up to the Wilderness.
To gallop horses already blown against that steep acclivity would havebeen to kill them. But the leader of the party, familiar with it, didnot put them to the test; instead, commanded a walk. And while ridingside by side, he and his troop captain held something of a lengthenedconversation, up to that time only a few hurried words having beenexchanged between them.
"I wish the letter had been a little more explicit as to their numbers,"said Sir Richard. "About two hundred may mean three, or only one. Awoman's estimate is not the most reliable in such matters."
"What did the cadgeress say of it, Colonel? You questioned her, Isuppose?"
"Minutely; but to no purpose. She only came to the house after they hadscattered all around it, and, of course, had no definite idea of theirnumber. So we shan't know how many we'll have to cross swords with,till we get upon the ground."
"If we have the chance to cross swords with any. I only wish we weresure of that."
"The deuce! They may be gone away, you think?"
"Rather fear it, Sir Richard. Powell must have reached Hollymead beforenightfall; and if they intended making him a prisoner 'twould be done atonce; with no object for their staying afterwards."
"Unless they have done a long day's march, and meant to quarter therefor the night. If they went thither direct from Bristol, which is likeenough, that's just what they'd do; stay the night, and start back forBristol in the morning."
"I have fears, Colonel, we won't find it so. More likely the Prince wasat Monmouth on account of what's happened there; and will return to it--has returned already."
"If so, Trevor, 'twill be a black night for you and me; a bitterdisappointment, and something worse. If he's gone from Hollymead, sowill they--father, daughters, all. Rupert's not the sort to leave suchbehind, with an abettor like Tom Lunsford. As for your cousin, rememberhow you crossed him. It's but natural he should feel spiteful, and showit in that quarter."
"If he do, I'll cross him worse when we come to crossing swords. AndI'll find the chance. We've made mutual promise to give no quarter--almost sworn it. If ill befall Vaga Powell through him, I'll keep thatpromise faithfully as any oath."
"But right you should. And for settling scores you may soon have theopportunity; I trust within the hour."
"Then, Colonel, _you_ think they'll still be at Hollymead."
"I hope it rather; grounding my hope on another habit of this GermanPrince. One he has late been indulging to excess, 'tis said."
"Drink?"
"Just so. In the which Lunsford, with head hard as his heart, willstand by him cup for cup."
"But can that affect their staying at Hollymead?"
"Certainly it can; probably will."
"How, Sir Richard?"
"By their getting inebriated there; or, at all events, enough so to makethem careless about moving off before the morning. The more, as theycan't be expecting any surprise from this side. You remember there wasa fair stock of wine in the cellars when we were there, best sorts too.Let loose at that, they're likely to stay by it as long as the tapruns."
"God grant it may run till morning then?" was the prayer of the youngofficer, fervently spoken. In his ways of thought and speech two years'campaigning had made much change, deepening the gravity of one naturallyof serious turn.
"No matter about morning," rejoined Sir Richard. "If it but hold outfor another hour, and we find them there, something else will then berunning red as the wine. Ah, Master Lunsford! One more meeting withyou, that's what I want now. If I'm lucky enough to have it this night,this night will be the last of your life."
The apostrophe, which was but a mental reflection, had reference tosomething Sabrina had been telling him, vividly recalled by the words inher latest letter, "that horrid man."
At the same instant, and in similar strain, was Eustace Trevorreflecting about his Cousin Reginald; making mental vow that, if Vagasuffered shame by him, neither would his life be of long endurance.
By this they had surmounted the pitch, and arrived at a spot both hadgood reason to remember. It was the piece of level turf where oncebaring blades they had come so near sending one or other out of theworld. Their horses remembered it too--they were still riding thesame--and with a recollection which had a result quaintly comical. Soonas on the ground, without check of rein or word said, they came to asudden halt, turned head to head, snorting and angry-like, as ifexpecting a renewal of the combat!
All the more strange this behaviour on the part of the animals, that,since their hostile encounter, for now over two years they had beentogether in amiable association!
A circumstance so odd, so ludicrous, could not fail to excite therisibility of their riders; and laugh both did, despite their seriousmood at the moment. To their following it but caused surprise; twoalone comprehending, so far as to see the fun of it. These Hubert, thetrumpeter, and the "light varlit" then so near coming to blows with him,who through thick and thin, had ever since stuck to theex-gentleman-usher, his master.
No doubt the little interlude would have led to some speech about it,between the chief actors in the more serious encounter it recalled, butfor something at that moment seen by them, turning their thoughts into anew channel. Away westward, beyond Drybrook, beyond Ruardean Ridge, thesky showed a clearness that had nought to do with the moon's light;instead was ruddier, and shone brighter, as this became obscured by athick cloud drifting over her disk. A glowing, gleaming light, unusualin a way; but natural enough regarded as the glare of a conflagration--which in reality it was.
"House on fire over yonder?" cried one of the soldiers.
"May be only a haystack," suggested a second.
"More like a town, judgin' by the big blaze," reasoned a third.
"There's no town in that direction; only Ruardean, where's we be goin'."
"Why maunt it be Ruardean, then?" queried the first speaker; "or thechurch?"
"An' a good thing if't be the church," put in one of strong Puritanproclivities. "It want burnin' down, as every other, wi' their altarsan' images. They be a curse to the country; the parsons too. They'vetaken sides wi' the stinkin' Cavaliers, agaynst Parliament and people,all along."
"That's true," endorsed another of like iconoclastic sentiments; "an' ifit a'nt the church as be givin' up that light, let's luminate it when weget there. I go for that."
A proposal which called forth a chorus of assenting responses.
While this play of words was
in progress along the line of rank and filerearwards, the Colonel and Captain Trevor, at its head, were engaged ina dialogue of conjectures about the same--a brief one.
"What think you it is?" asked Sir Richard, as they sat halted in theirsaddles regarding the garish light. "It looks to be over Ruardean, ornear it."
"A fire of some kind, Colonel. No common one either."
"A farmer's rick?"
"I fear not; would we were sure of its being only that!"
"Ha! A house you think?"
"I do, Sir Richard."
"And--?"
"The one we're making for!"
"By Heavens! I believe it is. It bears that way to a point.Ruardean's more to the right. Yes, it must be Hollymead!"
Both talked excitedly, but no more words passed between them there andthen. The next heard was the command--"March--double quick!" and downthe hill to Drybrook went they at a gallop over the tiny stream, and upthe long winding slope round the shoulder of Ruardean Hill--without haltor draw on bridle. There only poising for an instant, as they camewithin view of the village and saw the conflagration was not in, butwide away from it; the glare and sparks ascending over the spot whereHollymead House should be, but was no more.
As, continuing their gallop, they rode in through the park gates, it wasto see a vast blazing pile, like a bonfire built by Titans--the fagots'great beams heaped together confusedly--from which issued a hissing andcrackling, with at intervals loud explosions, as from an ordnancemagazine on fire.