The peregrines had killed cushat and partridge, the merlin its
half-score of buntings and turtle-doves, and the ladies having had a
surfeit of sport, were about setting faces homeward. Not that it was
late--still wanting two hours of sunset--but the news from Monmouth had
disquieted them, and they were feeling anxious about their father's
return. He might be back already, and if so, would wonder at their
being away from the house.
Van Dorn had called off the dogs, rehooded the hawks, and made all ready
for the start home, when game, of a sort that day unseen by them, came
unexpectedly in view. A heron on its way across the Forest from the
Severn to the Wye, flying low as it passed over the park.
Hapless heron! A temptation no falconer could resist; and at leave, or
rather command, from the younger of his mistresses, off went hoods
again, leashes were let loose, and once more away flew the noble
falcons, mounting spirally upward.
Just at that moment the gates of the park were thrown open to admit
Prince Rupert and his retinue. With Lunsford still by his side, the two
had already looked through the rails and up the avenue. To see there
what gave them satisfaction; the house with windows no longer shuttered,
smoke ascending from several of the chimneys, in short every sign of
occupation.
"The family here, as anticipated. Your Highness will not be
disappointed this time."
"Ah, _wohl_. I was beginning to think the lady of the golden locks an
_ignis fatuus_--never to be caught."
"There will be an opportunity of catching her now; and keeping her, if
your Highness so desire."
"You would counsel making the _frauleins_ our prisoners then? Is that
what you mean, _mein_ Colonel?"
"Their father at least should be made so. There's every reason and
right for it. He your prisoner, taken back with you to Bristol, 'tis
but natural his daughters should accompany him, and share his captivity.
If they have the true filial affection they'll be but too willing to do
that. Does your Highness comprehend?"
"Quite!" was the laconic response.
The suggestion, cruel and ruffianly, did not jar on Rupert's ears;
rather was it in harmony with his wishes, and half-formed designs. He
was proceeding to ponder upon it, having ridden through the gate, when a
cry, peculiarly intoned, came from a remote corner of the park, quick
followed by a shrill whistle.
The air was still, and sounds could be heard from afar; these being
clearly distinguishable.
"Ho-ho!" exclaimed the Prince, reining his horse to a stand. "Sport
going on here! Somebody out hawking."
The _hooha-ha-ha_ was familiar to him.
"Yes," said Lunsford. "That was a falconer's cry--the cast-off."
"Who might it be, Sir Thomas?"
"Impossible to say, Prince. The party must be behind that spinney of
Scotch firs. But see! yonder the hawks! Peregrines in chase of a
heron."
"By'r Lady, yes! A splendid caste. Trained to perfection. How
handsomely they mount up! Over him now! That stoop and rake, superb.
A fig for your chances, master lance-beak. Hey! One of them bound!
Now the other. Now down, down. _Wunderschon_!"
Absorbed in watching the actual conflict, all eyes directed upward,
Rupert and his following for a time neither saw nor thought of anything
else. No more did they of the hawking party, who, led by the chase, had
pushed on through the spinney of firs to be forward at the kill. Only
when the bound bird was writhing to free itself, in its last struggles
lowering down to earth, did the two parties catch sight of one another.
Not so near yet, a wide stretch of the park being between; but near
enough for a mutual making out of what they were.
"Soldiers!" exclaimed they of the hawking party.
"Wenches!" the word that came from the lips of the Cavaliers.
"We're in luck, Prince," said Lunsford. "You see yonder?"
"Two ladies; yes. Are they the birds we're in search of, think you?"
"Sure of it, your Highness."
"Playing with other birds. Ha-ha! Well; suppose we join them at their
play?"
"As your Highness commands."
"Do you know them, Sir Thomas--I mean personally?"
"I've never been introduced, Prince; but Captain Trevor--"
"Ah! I remember your saying something about his--Trevor!" he called
back to an officer of his suite, "come hither!"
Reginald Trevor it was; who, parting from his place in the line, rode
up, respectfully saluting.
"If I'm not mistaken, sir," said the Prince, "you have acquaintance with
the ladies we see yonder? Presumably the daughters of Master Ambrose
Powell."
"If it be they, your Highness, I once had. But it's been dropped long
ago."
"What! A quarrel?"
"No, Prince," answered the young officer, somewhat hesitatingly. "Not
exactly that."
"Only a little coolness, then. Well, perhaps I may be the means of
restoring, friendly relations. But first I want you to perform the
ceremonial of introduction. I hope you haven't so far offended the
damsels as to render you ineligible?"
Trevor stammered out a negative, at the same time announcing his
readiness to comply with the Prince's wish. He could not help himself,
knowing it was more a command than request.
"Come along, then! Let us on to them. You, Colonel, keep the escort at
halt here, till I ascertain whether we can have a night's lodging at
Hollymead House. That is," he added in a jocular way, "whether we'll be
made welcome to it."
Saying which, he gave his Arab a touch of the spur, and started off at a
canter over the green sward, direct for the hawking party.
Of course Reginald Trevor went along with him; though with a reluctance
which had only yielded to authority not to be gainsaid. Despite her
withering words spoken at their last interview, he still loved Vaga
Powell himself--hoping against hope--still had respect for her; and to
introduce Prince Rupert was like being a party to the accomplishment of
her ruin.
"Humph!" grumbled the ex-Lieutenant of the Tower as he looked after
them, some little chagrined at being left behind; "High Mightiness
thinks he's going to have it his own way with yellow hair. He won't
though; unless he do as I've counselled him. But 'twill come to that--
must, before we go back to Bristol--and I shall carry thither my share
of the sweet spoils."