MY JOURNEY TO ENDELLION.
The next morning I started to ride to the home of the Killigrews. I
could see that Daniel sorely wanted to accompany me, but I decided not
to take him. In nine cases out of ten a man does work better when
unencumbered. Mostly people who pretend to help fail to understand what
is in one's mind, and as a consequence generally bungle things
grievously. I did not want this matter bungled. The more I thought about
it the more was I determined to see the thing through successfully. The
picture of living at Trevanion, practically unharassed by debts, became
more pleasant each hour. Besides as a race we were not given to
bungling, and although I was little in love with the thought of having a
maid for a companion, I gloried in the prospect of measuring wits, and
if needs be swords, with these sturdy Killigrews. I therefore mounted my
favourite horse which I called "Chestnut," on account of his colour; a
horse the like of which was difficult to be matched. He was going five,
stood over sixteen hands high, and was of a build which united strength
with speed to such a degree that half the squires in the county wanted
him. I had been sorely tempted to sell him, but had never yielded to the
temptation. I had always prided myself on riding the best horse in the
county, and Chestnut was certainly second to none. In spite of my
unusual weight he carried me easily, he would run until he dropped, and
possessed tremendous staying power. Added to this, I had seen him
foaled, had fed him with my own hands, and when Jenkins, the famous
horse-breaker, declared to me his inability to "break him in," I had
undertaken the task myself, and had succeeded. I did it by a new method,
too, for I never struck him a blow. I do not attribute this to any
special power I possess over horses generally, for Jenkins would in nine
cases out of ten succeed where I failed. The truth was, Chestnut, when
he was a colt, regarded me as a sort of playfellow and learnt to love
me. Being an intelligent animal, he soon understood me, indeed he had a
curious instinct by which he seemed to divine my thoughts and feelings.
I carefully armed myself, and placed in my saddle-bags as much
ammunition as I could conveniently carry. I did not know whether I
should stand in need of these things, but I thought it well to be
prepared. The county was infested by robbers, and as I carried a large
amount of money I thought it well to test my sword-blade and pistols.
Thus equipped I had no fear. I was a fair shot, and generally held as a
strong swordsman.
"When may I expect 'ee back then, sur, makin' so bold?" asked Daniel as
I mounted.
"I don't know, Daniel; don't expect me until you see me. As you know, I
have given you full particulars, and Mr. Hendy will visit you
constantly."
"You be goin' into danger, Master Roger," said the serving-man
tremulously. "Laive me go weth 'ee, sur."
Daniel was nearly fifty years of age, and had served our family all his
life, so he had been allowed to take liberties.
"Ould Smiler es jist aitin his 'ead off, sur, and I baint no good 'ere
when you be gone. Taake me weth 'ee, sur. You wa'ant be sorry."
As I said, I did not think it best to take him, so I rode away leaving
him disconsolate. On my way to the home of the Killigrews I passed
through Truro, Tresillian, Ladock, and Mitchell, but nothing happened
worthy of note. I did not hurry, rather I rode slowly, for I wanted to
enjoy the quiet of the day. Everywhere new life was appearing.
Everywhere, too, the spirit of rest seemed to reign. In those days I did
not think much about the beauties of early spring, but I could not help
being impressed by the scene around Tresillian. The little arm of the
river enclosed by wooded hills was indeed fair to look upon. I rested my
horse at the gates of Tregothnan, where the Boscawens lived and looked
with somewhat envious eyes on the long line of yew-trees which bordered
the drive, and remembered that I had once loved the maid who was
related to the people who dwelt in the great house in the distance.
I did not get beyond St. Columb that day, and, on arriving there, tried
to find out something about the Killigrews. I had not gone far enough
north, however. The main branch of the family, as all the country knows,
had lived at St. Erme, about five miles north of Truro, also at
Falmouth, but it had died out. Colman Killigrew was the descendant of
one Benet Killigrew, who, although he did not, like some of his
relations, become a courtier, was sufficiently fortunate to marry a
Mistress Scobell Rosecarrick, of Endellion, in which Endellion Castle
was situated. Through her this branch of the Killigrews became possessed
of a pleasant estate, and also became allied to an ancient race. This I
had learnt by reading Carew's survey of Cornwall after I had returned
from Peter Trevisa. Of their present condition, however, I knew nothing,
neither could I discover anything about them at St. Columb.
Arriving at Wadebridge the next day, my attention was attracted by an
inn called "The Molesworth Arms." As the name of the maid I had promised
to take from Endellion to Treviscoe was Molesworth, and as it was
moreover the chief inn in the town, I decided to rest there and partake
of some refreshment. Although it was scarcely noon, I found the common
room of the inn filled with a number of people. Mostly the occupants
were farmers, although I fancied one or two of them belonged to the
gentlefolk of the neighbourhood. I did not pay particular attention to
them, however, because my interest became centred in a hale-looking old
man, who was evidently a travelling story-teller and minstrel. He had
finished his singing, and was now telling a story before taking his
departure. There is no need that I should repeat the tale here; at the
same time I mention the incident because I was impressed by the wondrous
way he had of making us all look at him. One could have heard a pin drop
when he was speaking. I was fascinated by him too, partly, I expect,
because I did not understand him. As all the county knows, a
tale-teller, or a wandering singer, who is usually called "a droll," is
no unusual thing. Many of them had visited Trevanion, and I had always
given them food and a bed. Mostly they came when the house was full of
visitors, and regaled the company with song and story. But they were
mostly of the lower orders of life, and spoke the Cornish dialect.
Indeed their stories usually had but little charm apart from the
dialect, although occasionally tales were told which were interesting
because of their subject-matter. These were generally of a supernatural
order, and described the dead arising or spirits coming back to the
world to bring some message to their friends. I had never seen this man
at Trevanion, however, neither did he belong to the class who had
visited the house. It is true he spoke the Cornish dialect, but at times
he let words drop which showed he knew something of learning. He had an
air of authority with him, too, which suggested that he lived on terms
of equality with men of position. At least this was what I thought.
He paid no attention to me, save to give me one glance, and when he had
finished his story said he must move on.
"Stay till even', Uncle Anthony," said the innkeeper, "do 'ee now. A
passel of people will be comin'."
"No," replied Uncle Anthony, "I have promised to be twelve miles away by
to-night, so I mus' be goin'."
"Tich yer 'arp afore you go, Uncle," pleaded the innkeeper.
"I sha'ant, I tell 'ee," replied Anthony.
A number of coins were thrown to the droll, and then shouldering his
harp he left the inn.
"'Ee's a cure es Uncle Anthony," said the innkeeper, turning to me; "'ee
es for sure, sur."
"Who is he?" I asked. "He does not seem like a common droll."
"He ed'n for sure, sur. I've 'eerd that Uncle do come of a rich family,
but law, you ca'ant git nothin' from un. Everybody es glad to zee un.
He's a clain off zinger, and can play butiful, 'ee can. Which way ded
you cum then, sur, makin' sa bould."
"From southward," I replied.
"Far, sur?"
"From Truro."
"Aw, I thot you wos a bit of a furriner. I cud zee you ded'n belong to
thaise paarts. Goin' fur, sur?"
"Probably to Bodmin town," I replied, for I did not feel like taking
the talkative innkeeper into my confidence.
"Aw, Uncle Anthony es well knawed in thais paarts, 'ee es for sure. And
'ee d' knaw a lot too. Wot Uncle doan knaw ed'n much use to nobody."
I stayed at the inn till late in the afternoon, during which time I
plied the innkeeper with many questions, but I learnt nothing about the
Killigrews more than I had hitherto discovered; then I mounted Chestnut
and rode towards Endellion, in which parish the maid Nancy Molesworth
lived.
I could not help noticing what a pretty spot Wadebridge was as I rode
over the bridge, after which the town was called. The tide was high, and
several good-sized vessels lay at the riverside. But I had naught to do
with them, so stopping only to take a glance at the river as it
broadened out towards Padstow, and again in the other direction as its
waters lapped the banks near the little village of Egloshayle, I rode on
towards St. Minver.
It must be remembered that it was the twenty-sixth day of March, and so
daylight began to fade soon after six o'clock, and as I wanted to reach
the home of the Killigrews before dark, I rode rapidly. I puzzled my
brains sorely to know by what pretext I could enter the house, also
under what name I should present myself. I dared not tell them that I
was a Trevanion, for my people were well known. We were well known to
the Killigrews who had lived at Pendennis Castle, also to those who
possessed a place a few miles from Truro. Moreover, all the Trevanions
were stout Protestants, and as Colman Killigrew and his sons were rank
Papists, I dared not appear to them under this guise. My pride rebelled
against assuming a false name and professing a false religion, but I had
promised Peter Trevisa, and as in those days I was not over-particular
about such matters I vowed to let nothing stand in the way of my seeing
the business through.
My purpose was to stay at Endellion several days, else how could I
accomplish my mission? In order to do this I must in some way establish
some claim upon the owner thereof. There would be no difficulty in
staying one night, or even two, for the laws of Cornish hospitality made
this easy. No house of importance would close its doors to a traveller,
be he rich or poor. I determined, therefore, to pretend that I was a
member of an obscure branch of the Penryn family, who were well known to
be Catholics; that I was the owner of a small Barton, and that I was
anxious to see a Catholic king on the throne of England. That I had
heard rumours of the probability of the grandson of King James coming to
England, and that could a leader be found I might render assistance to
the Catholic cause.
Beyond this I decided upon nothing. If questions were asked me, I must
trust to my wits. I determined to keep a cool head and open eyes. If the
worst came to the worst I could fight with the best, indeed I rather
hoped for difficult work.
Presently I saw the tower of Endellion Church. It was on a little
hillside, while all around the country was bare, as far as trees were
concerned. I rode towards the little village, and seeing a strapping
maid, I stopped and spoke to her.
"Do you know where Squire Killigrew lives, my pretty maid?" I asked.
She laughed in my face, revealing fine white teeth and shining blue
eyes.
"Iss, sur. Endellion."
"This is Endellion, is it not?" I said, pointing to the church.
"This is the Church Town, this is. Endellion es dree miles from we,
right over ginst the say."
"The Killigrews live there, you say? Do you know them?"
"Knaw 'em. Who doan't?"
"I don't, but I want to see them."
The maid stared at me as though she were afraid, then she said almost
fearfully.
"Doan't 'ee knaw 'em?"
"No," I replied.
"Do they knaw you?"
"No."
"Then doan't 'ee go, sur. They'll kill 'ee, sur. They be terble, sur.
They taake no noatice of the passon, nor the bible, sur."
I saw that the maid was in earnest. No one was near, for I had not
entered the village, so I dismounted and stood by her side.
"You seem a good maid," I said, "and I believe you would not tell a lie.
What know you of these Killigrews?"
"I'm feared to tell 'ee, sur. Nearly everybody es feared to go there.
The 'ouse es full ov rubbers. Say rubbers, and land rubbers. People
miles round 'ave bin rubbed, and murdered, and people do zay tes they.
But we ca'ant tell. And everybody es feared to tackle 'em. They be
fighters, terble fighters. Some ov 'em do ride ere zumtimes like maazed
people. Doan't 'ee go 'mong 'em, sur, doan't 'ee now.
"Yes, I must go."
"Then taake care ov yezelf, sur. You be very big and strong, sur; and do
car a sword. But doan't 'ee vex 'em."
"I'll be careful. Is that all you know?"
"That's oall, sur."
"And yonder is the road?" I said, pointing northwards.
"Iss, sur, that's ev et."
I gave the maid a crown piece and a kiss, whereupon she blushed finely,
but curtsied like one well reared, as I believe she was.
"Whan you git to the crossways, sur, turn to the right. The left road do
laid to Rosecarrick. Do 'ee be careful, sur, an' doan't 'ee vex 'em."
I laughed as I mounted my horse. "I'll remember," I said; "what is your
name, my maid?"
"Jennifer Lanteglos, sur," and she curtsied again as I rode away.
"Evidently Jennifer Lanteglos is afraid of the Killigrews," I thought as
I rode away. It was now becoming dusk, but I felt sure I could easily
cover the three miles before dark. I had not gone a mile, when I saw a
man tramping along the lane. I stopped as I overtook him. I saw that he
was the droll I had seen at Molesworth Arms at Wadebridge.
"Uncle Anthony," I said, using the term I had heard the innkeeper use,
for the term "uncle" is one of respect towards elderly people, "go you
my way?"
"What a question," retorted the old man. "How do I know ef you doan't
tell me where you be goin'?"
"I am going to Squire Colman Killigrew's at Endellion," I replied.
"Do 'ee think you'll git in?" laughed Uncle Anthony.
"Yes," I replied, "the Killigrews are of an old Cornish family, they
will give shelter to a traveller."
He eyed me keenly. "A traveller! Ugh! a purty traveller. But doan't 'ee
be sa sure of gittin' into Endellion!"
"Go you there?"
"Iss," he replied.
"Then if you can get shelter, why not I?"
"I--I?" he retorted sharply. "I go everywhere. Nobody'll zay no to ould
Ant'ny. I zing, an' tell taales, an' shaw 'em wizard's tricks, I do."
"Then if we go as fellow-travellers, both will be taken in."
"I zeed 'ee at Wadebridge," he said. "You come from a long way off, you
do. Wa's yer name, young squire?"
"Roger Penryn."
"Penryn, Penryn," he repeated the name slowly, and looked at me again.
"Iss, we'll be fellow-travellers. I'll take 'ee to Endellion."
I did not understand his behaviour, but I determined to make the best
use of him that I could. The innkeeper at Wadebridge had told me that
every house was open to Uncle Anthony, for in country places where
entertainment was scarce he was regarded as a godsend.
"You look tired, Uncle," I said; "get on my horse, and ride the
remaining distance."
He did not speak, but when I had dismounted he prepared to climb on to
Chestnut.
"It's a long time since I was on the back of a 'oss like this," he
remarked when he was seated.
"And you would not remain long on," I replied, "if I was not here to
keep Chestnut in order."
He opened his mouth as if to contradict me sharply, but seeming to think
better of it, simply asked me to hand his harp to him.
"I can carry it," I assured him.
"No one carries that harp but me," he replied sharply; "the devil wud
git into un, if other hands than mine did hould un."
So I handed him the instrument, more and more puzzled at his manner of
speech. I walked slowly by Chestnut's head, who seemed to resent his
change of rider, but a word from me kept him quiet, after which no
conversation took place till I saw a large stone gateway.
"What's yon?" I asked Anthony.
"The gateway to the place where the Killigrews do live," he replied.
I had hardly opened the gate when I heard a tramping of feet and a
hurried sound of voices near. Immediately a rough hand was laid on my
arm, and I saw that we were surrounded by several men. It was now nearly
dark, and I could not well distinguish who had attacked us. Bidding
Chestnut be still I freed myself in a moment, and drew my sword.
"No," cried Uncle Anthony. "Doan't 'ee knaw me, Clement Killigrew;
doan't 'ee knaw Uncle Anthony, Benet, Colman?"
"Down," cried a strong deep voice. "Uncle Anthony on horseback! What
means this?"
"Visitors to Endellion, Benet; a supper and a bed!" replied the droll.
"A supper and bed for thee, and welcome, Uncle Anthony," was the reply,
"but for this jackanapes,--no, we keep no open house for such."
"Jackanapes yourself," I cried hotly, for I could ill brook such words.
"You carry swords, come on then one at a time, and we will see who is a
jackanapes."
But no swords were drawn. Instead they looked at me keenly.
"Is this horse thine?"
"It is."
"Why let old Uncle Anthony ride on him then?"
"That is my affair, not yours."
"Know you to whom you speak?"
"I thought I did at first. I was told that this is the entrance to
Colman Killigrew's house, and I thought you might be Killigrews. But
they be gentlemen, and know decent ways, so I judge you cannot be
they."
A general laugh followed this sally, and then one of them spoke in low
tones to Uncle Anthony.
"We have been mistaken," said one presently. "If you bear the name of
Penryn, come to Endellion, and welcome. We may know your business later
on. But we live a rough life here, and make not friends easily."
"But they be cutthroats, footpads, who attack a man unawares," I
replied.
"And we be Killigrews, Roger Penryn, for such is the name Uncle Anthony
says you have given," was the reply. "We mistook our man, that is all,
and beg to tender our apologies for discourteous treatment. We think all
the better of you for drawing your sword. But put it up, man, we will
conduct you to Endellion. At the same time you must confess that it is
not oft that a gentleman dismounts and lets a wandering tale-teller sit
on his horse."
"The old man was tired, and----" I did not finish the sentence, for I
had become cool again, and I knew I had a difficult game to play, if I
would get the better of these wild fellows.
I could not see their faces, but I saw they were strong, well-built men.
They carried themselves well, too, and did not slouch along as country
squires often do.
Presently I heard the roar of the sea, and soon after saw the dim
outline of a large castellated building. Here and there lights twinkled,
but altogether it was as gloomy a place as one could well conceive.
"We give you a welcome at Endellion," said one of the Killigrews who had
not hitherto spoken. "We be a rough branch of the old family tree, but
the same blood flows through our veins."
Some one gave a shrill whistle and a serving-man appeared.
"Take this horse, and see that it is well curry-combed and foddered,"
was the command.
A minute later, I with the others entered the old house from which, if I
accomplished my purpose, I was to take the maid called Nancy Molesworth.
My blood tingled at the thought of wild adventure; all the same, as I
saw these sturdy men by my side, I very much doubted the outcome of the
business.