I FALL INTO OTHO KILLIGREW'S HANDS.
How long we remained oblivious to everything save our new-found love I
know not, for truly I had entered upon a new life. My dear love had
revealed herself to me in a way which made the dark night seem like day.
I had known her as one fair beyond words, it is true, and more faithful
and courageous than I had believed a woman could be, but distant and
often cold and repellant. Even when she had braved many things for my
welfare she treated me with distant formality, such as had chilled my
heart and made me despair of ever winning her love. But this night she
had shown me her heart, and now I knew her not only as noble and pure,
but as tender and winsome and loving. Many and many a time did she raise
her dear face to mine and bid me tell her again and again that my wound
was not dangerous and that I suffered no pain. And because I loved her
so, I am afraid I told her what was not true, for the wound ached
sorely, although I minded it not one whit. In very truth, one look from
her eyes dispelled the thought of pain, and I felt the strength of many
men surge within me. To say that I was content would be to play with
words, for sitting there with my love nought but joy filled my life.
Presently, however, she bade me tell her of my experiences, and this I
did briefly, for I wanted to know what had happened to her, and why Otho
Killigrew had visited her and what he had said to her. Besides, it had
come to me that I must take her away from Restormel, although for the
moment I knew not where. In my happiness, too, I had almost forgotten
the promise I had made to Hugh Boscawen, and that it was my duty to make
my way to Veryan Bay that night.
"What did Otho tell you, my love?" I asked.
"That you have been taken prisoner by his people, and that you were to
be put to death to-night, unless----"
"But that was nothing," I answered. "What was his purpose in coming to
you?"
"He had discovered, I know not how, that you were here last night. He
had also found out the signal by which I was to admit you."
"How?"
"I know not. He had also divined--oh, Roger! I must be very foolish,
but he had divined that--that----"
"What, my dear maid?"
"That I love you," and she hid her face on my shoulder again, as though
she were ashamed to show her face.
"How think you so?"
"He told me so, and--and I could not deny it."
"No," said I with a glad laugh, "and then?"
"He tried to trade upon my love. He said you were in his power, and that
unless I promised him something you should die this very night."
"What was that?"
"To marry him."
"And you?"
"I was sorely frightened; but I told him that I would rather die than do
this. I could not, you know, Roger, even though I did not know you cared
aught for me."
"But you must have known I loved you, my dear."
"Sometimes I thought I did, and at others I could only--that is--even
were I sure you did, I knew you would rather die than that I should wed
him."
"Well, let us hear the rest of this," I said. "Surely Otho must have
been attending the performances of some travelling showman, for such
plots smack of a fourth-rate playhouse."
"He sorely frightened me, for he threatened to torture you; and you know
what a cruel face he has."
"Well, and what was the end of it?" By this time my heart began to grow
bitter towards Otho Killigrew, and had he been there at that moment it
would have gone hard with him.
"He told me that you had been taken to a place of safety, and then asked
me if I would allow him to take me there. He said it was the only
condition on which he would show you any mercy."
"And you?"
"I refused him again. And yet I fancy my looks must have consented, for,
Roger," and she nestled closer to me again, "I hoped that I might be
able to help you."
Now this matter required thought, for I felt sure Otho had some
deep-laid purpose in it all.
"He said he would return as soon as his duties allowed him," she added
presently.
"Here?"
"Yes."
"You will refuse to admit him?"
"Oh, there will be no need now--you will be here;--that's--no--no--you
must not. He seems to have discovered all about the house, and even old
Adam Coad obeys him. If he finds you here he will find means to kill
you."
"You need not fear," I said; "to-night all the Killigrews will be
prisoners, and before long they will be hanged," and I told her what was
being done.
"Then he cannot come back here to-night?"
"No, he will not be here. All the same, let every door be bolted. But I
must away."
She looked at me piteously. She was so changed, this maid Nancy, during
the last hour. All her reserve, all her coldness had gone.
"But I will be back before morning," I said, "and then----" I stopped,
for my heart grew cold. In very truth, I seemed helpless. She seemed to
divine my thoughts, for she concluded the sentence.
"I shall have no care. And yet," and this she said sadly, "O Roger, I
cared naught about this--this story of Trevisa's till to-night. If it is
true, I shall be dowerless--nameless. I shall take every thing and give
you nothing--that is--nothing but--myself."
The last words came coyly, and yet with a sob, and for the moment I
cared nothing, even the loss of my old home weighed no more than
thistledown. But only for a moment; my destitution rested heavily on me
a minute later.
"It is all well," I cried in a tone of confidence I was far from
feeling. "Even although Trevisa's story be true, I shall have--but there
is not time to tell you now. Wait for me, my love. No harm can come to
you to-night--and I will soon be back. I will not knock this time; you
may know me by this cry," and I imitated the hoot of a night bird.
Soon after I rode away with a light heart in spite of my cares, and my
many doubts. I knew nothing of Otho's plans, and for aught I could tell
he might have spies all around the house; but no one molested me. Indeed
although I listened carefully all was silent as death, and I concluded
that the Killigrews had mustered all their forces in order to be ready
when Charles Stuart landed.
When I reached Veryan Bay all was silent. It was perhaps ten o'clock,
only two or three hours before the Pretender was supposed to land, but
not a soul was visible. I rode across country in order to avoid coming
into contact with any of the friends of the Stuarts: for I knew that
were I caught it would mean instant death. Every footstep was, I was
sure, beset with danger; for while Hugh Boscawen had given me a passport
whereby I should be safe among his followers, I knew not where the enemy
might be lurking.
Presently I reached the woods just above Veryan Bay, and with as little
noise as possible crept along under the trees. A few seconds later I was
surrounded by armed men. They had been lying quietly amidst the
brushwood until orders for action came. No sooner was my passport seen
than I was conducted to Hugh Boscawen.
"Saw you that old man?" I asked.
"Yes, but not until I had first received your letter."
"Well, what did he say?"
"He seemed weighted with important news at first, but presently he
talked of the most senseless matters."
"Ah," I said, and instantly I surmised what it meant. Uncle Anthony had
guessed that I had penetrated his disguise, and had sent a message.
"Did you see him immediately on his arrival?"
"No, I had many things to occupy me, and I kept him waiting some time.
Your letter prepared me for the foolish things he had to say."
"All your arrangements have been carried out then?"
"Yes; one thousand men lie in this wood and a thousand more on the other
side of the valley. It was all I could raise on such short notice. But
they are enough. The Pretender's friends have got wind of my prompt
action. They have abandoned the idea of coming here. I am sorry, but it
does not matter; the craft containing Charles is on its way, and he will
be here in a few hours."
He tried to speak coolly, but I could see that he was excited beyond
measure. His voice shook, and was fairly husky.
"How do you know that they have abandoned the idea of bringing their
forces here?"
"My spies discovered it," he said shortly. "Oh, I have not been idle,
young man; my men have had eyes and ears everywhere."
I realized then as I felt when at Tregothnan that he seemed to resent my
questions, and I knew that his abilities did not equal his zeal. I could
quite believe that the Killigrews had abandoned the idea of meeting the
forces which Hugh Boscawen had gathered, but I did not believe that they
would submit so meekly as this man seemed to think. As far as I could
judge, matters were ill-arranged, and although every one was on the
tiptoe of expectation, there seemed to be little definite idea as to the
serious issue at stake.
"You see," he went on, "such a number of men could not be got together
so secretly as I had hoped. The Pretender's friends found this out, and
not a man of theirs is to be found within two miles. Of that I am sure."
"And do you think, my lord, that they will give up so easily?" I asked.
"They cannot help themselves. I tell you the coast is guarded two miles
in each direction."
"No more than two miles?"
"Is not that enough, Trevanion! I tell you I saw through the whole
business ten minutes after you brought the news. You shall not be
forgotten, Trevanion, I can assure you that."
"I suppose neither Sir Richard nor John Rosecorroch are here?"
"No, there was no time to get advisers; besides it would have confused
matters. One general is enough."
I felt impatient with the man, loyal and well-meaning as he was. I
remembered that he had paid but little heed to me at Tregothnan.
Doubtless during the hours I had been lying asleep through the day he
had given his orders, and in his own way had made ready. But he did not
know the resources of Colman Killigrew or Uncle Anthony, to say nothing
of Otho.
"Have you considered, my lord, that they may still signal to Charles
Stuart farther up the coast?"
"What mean you, Trevanion?"
"Doubtless the Pretender set sail from the north of France, and is
sailing down the Channel. Think you the Killigrews have not prepared for
the present state of things? They have been too long plotting not to
realize their danger, and they will not allow Charles to walk blindfold
into your hands, especially now they know what hath been done. They will
either have moved their forces farther up the coast, or if that be
impossible they will have warned him not to land."
"I tell you their forces have been disturbed. They have heard of what
has happened, and they have lost heart. As for the other, it is a dark
murky night, and no signal could be seen from afar."
"But there is danger, my lord," I persisted; "and you would not like
Charles to escape you?"
"No, by heaven, no! but what would you suggest?" and here the man
revealed the fact that he should have taken counsel in the affair.
"I would suggest this, my lord. Give me a few men. I know the coast
well; I will go northward, and if they are seeking to signal, either I
will send you word, or, if I am able, take these Killigrews prisoners."
"The plan sounds well, Trevanion. It can do no harm, and it shall be
done. Do you ride northward as you suggest."
Now all along I had been a free lance in the business. Lord Falmouth, of
whom I have spoken as Hugh Boscawen, because our county people preferred
this honoured old name to the title which had first been given to his
father--Lord Falmouth, I say, had insisted that I was not in a fit
condition to render him active service because of my wound. In truth, as
I have before intimated, he urged that I should stay for some time at
Tregothnan, and although I had managed to persuade him as to my fitness
to travel and to meet him at Veryan Bay, I knew practically nothing of
what he had done. That he should have been able to secure such a large
number of men at such a short notice was indicative of his influence in
the county. As far as that matter goes, there was no man better known or
more respected, while the name of Boscawen was held in reverence from
Land's End to the banks of the Tamar, and even beyond it. At one time he
was believed to have much influence in Parliament, and no small amount
of power over King George himself. But I, who am not a politician,
cannot speak with authority on such matters. Of his kinsman, the great
Admiral Boscawen, and his prowess, all the world knows. But Hugh did not
possess the admiral's genius as a commander, and I could not help
seeing, ignorant as I was in all matters pertaining to warfare, that the
matter seemed sorely bungled, because of a failure to understand how
wily Uncle Anthony and the Killigrews were.
However, I rode off with a few men, and found my way with all diligence
along the coast. As Boscawen had said, it was a dark, murky night, and
it would be difficult to see a signal from afar. I dared not ride very
near the coast, as many parts of it were dangerous; indeed it was with
difficulty that we made the journey at all. The country was thickly
wooded, and pathways were few.
I had gone perhaps four miles beyond the spot where Boscawen's men lay,
keeping a sharp lookout on the coast all the way, when I stopped the
horses and listened. We had been riding through fields and by the side
of hedges, so as to make as little noise as possible, and I had
commanded a halt because I thought I saw two or three dark forms not far
away. For some minutes we listened in vain, but presently I heard the
sound of footsteps coming along a lane near by. Creeping silently to the
hedgeside, I could detect the noise of three men coming from a northward
direction.
"It's all up," I heard one say.
"Yes, we'd better get as far from these parts as possible."
"I suppose a big fire has been lit up by Chapel Point!"
"Yes, that was the signal agreed on in case of danger."
"Do you think they'll see it? It's a beastly night."
"If they can keep it up long enough."
"Ah, yes; if they can do that the vessel will turn back."
"I suppose so."
The men passed on, and I heard them discussing the situation as they
trudged in the direction of St. Austell; but this was all that came to
me distinctly. I had heard enough, however, to confirm my suspicions. My
plan now was to send two men back with the news, and then to ride on to
Chapel Point, a spot some distance farther north.
Half an hour later I was near enough to Chapel Point to see the ruddy
glow of a beacon light, and I became sadly afraid lest Hugh Boscawen
would not be able to send men in time to extinguish the fire before it
was seen by the Pretender. Indeed, so much did my fears possess me that
I could not remain inactive, and so, foolishly, I crept nearer and
nearer the danger signal. I was drawn on by a kind of fatal fascination,
and so excited did I become that I recked nothing of the danger by which
I was surrounded.
It soon became plain to me that the spot was well chosen. A huge fire
was lit on the slope of a hill, and thus the blaze, while hidden from
the neighbourhood of Veryan Bay, could be plainly seen by any who sailed
down the Channel. In the ruddy glow, too, I could see many forms; and as
I thought how much depended on extinguishing the blaze before it could
be seen by the rebels, I had difficulty in restraining myself from
rushing thitherward single-handed. Indeed I did, in order to watch their
actions more closely, leave the men who accompanied me, and this, as
events will show, almost led to my undoing.
I had not been away from my companions more than a few minutes when I
was roughly seized, and even before I had time to cry out I was dragged
away into the darkness. How far I was hurried on I scarcely know; but
presently when I was allowed to stop, I found myself surrounded by a
dozen or more men, amongst whom I detected Otho Killigrew and Uncle
Anthony. I could plainly see them, for the light from the fire threw a
ruddy glare upon us. We stood in a hollow, however, and were partially
sheltered.
"Ah, Roger Trevanion," said Otho Killigrew, and his voice was husky
with savage joy. "I did not think we should meet again so soon."
"No," I replied as coolly as I was able, "and you would not care to meet
me now if you were not surrounded by a dozen of your followers."
"I always like playing a safe game," he replied slowly as was his wont.
"Even although you have to be a coward; this morning you ran away from
me like a whipped schoolboy."
"I had matters of more importance to perform than to kill a ruffian," he
replied.
"Apparently," I said, with a laugh I little felt, "but you miserably
bungled your matters."
My words evidently stung him.
"Have a care, Roger Trevanion," he said. "This morning we both used a
well-worn proverb--'he who laughs last laughs best.' I think that
applies to me, for in a few minutes you will have gone to that place
where there will be little laughter, and where you will be in company
with the personage who describes himself as travelling to and fro in the
earth, and walking up and down in it."
"Scarcely," I replied. "You could never be happy without your constant
friend and master."
I heard Uncle Anthony chuckle in his quiet way, but Otho went on still
in cold, cruel tones:
"I have not yet decided what death you shall die. I think, however, that
I shall increase the brilliancy of the light yonder by using you as
fuel. It will be excellent preparation for you too."
"That would be just like you," I said; "you are too great a coward to
try and kill me in open fight. However, let's have done with it as
quickly as possible."
I said this, I must confess, with difficulty; my throat was dry, and
even then I could almost feel the fire burning my flesh. At the same
time I knew that such words would make him desire to prolong my agony,
and, in truth, his devilish desire to taunt me and make me suffer saved
my life.
"All in good time, Roger Trevanion," he said coolly. "There is no hurry
for a few minutes, and the devil can wait. I have a few things to tell
you, too. I have had some slight training for the priesthood, and I wish
to give you a few comforting messages before you depart, just as a
priest should."
"Go on," I said grimly, but indeed I was sore afraid.