About a month after the day on which Rupert had taken Mademoiselle
Adele Dessin out hawking, the colonel and Mistress Dorothy went to
dine at the house of a county family some miles away. The family
coach, which was only used on grand occasions, was had out, and in
this Mistress Dorothy, hooped and powdered in accordance with the
fashion of the day, took her seat with Colonel Holliday. Rupert had
been invited, as the eldest son was a lad of his own age.
It was a memorable occasion for him, as he was for the first time
to dress in the full costume of the period--with powdered hair,
ruffles, a blue satin coat and knee breeches of the same material,
with silk stockings. His greatest pleasure, however, was that he
was now to wear a sword, the emblem of a gentleman, for the first
time. He was to ride on horseback, for madam completely filled the
coach with her hoops and brocaded dress, and there was scarcely
room for Colonel Holliday, who sat beside her almost lost in her
ample skirts.
The weather was cold, and Rupert wore a riding cloak over his
finery, and high boots, which were upon his arrival to be exchanged
for silver-buckled shoes. They started at twelve, for the dinner
hour was two, and there were eight miles to drive--a distance
which, over the roads of those days, could not be accomplished much
under two hours. The coachman and two lackeys took their places on
the box of the lumbering carriage, the two latter being armed with
pistols, as it would be dark before they returned, and travelling
after dark in the days of King William was a danger not to be
lightly undertaken. Nothing could be more stately, or to Rupert's
mind more tedious, than that entertainment. Several other guests of
distinction were present, and the dinner was elaborate.
The conversation turned chiefly on county business, with an
occasional allusion to the war with France. Politics were entirely
eschewed, for party feeling ran too high for so dangerous a subject
to be broached at a gathering at which both whigs and tories were
present.
Rupert sat near one end of the table, with the eldest son of the
host. As a matter of course they kept absolute silence in an
assembly of their elders, only answering shortly and respectfully
when spoken to. When dinner was over, however, and the ladies rose,
they slipped away to a quiet room, and made up for their long
silence by chatting without cessation of their dogs, and hawks, and
sports, until at six o'clock the coach came round to the door, and
Rupert, again donning his cloak and riding boots, mounted his
horse, and rode slowly off after the carriage.
Slow as the progress had been in the daytime, it was slower now.
The heavy coach jolted over great lumps of rough stone, and bumped
into deep ruts, with a violence which would shake a modern vehicle
to pieces. Sometimes, where the road was peculiarly bad, the
lackeys would get down, light torches at the lanterns that hung
below the box, and show the way until the road improved.
They had ridden about six miles, when some distance ahead the sound
of pistol shots, followed by loud shouts, came sharply on the ear.
Rupert happened to be in front, and with the love of adventure
natural to his age, he set spurs to his horse and dashed forward,
not hearing, or at any rate not heeding, the shouts of his
grandfather. Colonel Holliday, finding that Rupert was fairly off,
bade the lackeys get down, and follow him at a run with their
pistols, and urged the coachman to drive on with all possible
speed. Rupert was not long in reaching the scene of action; and
hurried the more that he could hear the clinking of sword blades,
and knew that the resistance of those assailed had not ceased.
On arriving at the spot he saw, as he expected, a carriage standing
by the road. One or two figures lay stretched on the ground; the
driver lay back, a huddled mass, on his seat; a man held high a
torch with one hand, while with the other he was striving to
recharge a pistol. Four other men with swords were attacking a
gentleman who, with his back to the coach, was defending himself
calmly and valiantly.
As he rode up Rupert unbuttoned his riding cloak, and threw it off
as he reined up his horse and dismounted. An execration broke from
the assailants at seeing this new arrival, but perceiving that he
was alone, one of the four men advanced to attack him.
Just as Rupert leapt from his horse, the man holding the torch
completed the loading of his pistol, and levelling it at him,
fired. The ball knocked off his hat just as he touched the ground,
and the man shouted:
"Kill him, Gervais. Spit him like a lark; he is only a boy."
Rupert drew his sword as the highwayman advanced upon him, and was
in a moment hotly engaged. Never before had he fenced with pointed
rapiers; but the swords had scarcely crossed when he felt, with the
instinct of a good fencer, how different were the clumsy thrusts of
his opponent to the delicate and skillful play of his grandfather
and Monsieur Dessin. There was no time to lose in feints and
flourishes; the man with the torch had drawn his sword, and was
coming up; and Rupert parried a thrust of his assailant's, and with
a rapid lunge in tierce ran him right through the body. Then with a
bound he dashed through the men attacking the traveller, and took
his stand beside him, while the torchbearer, leaving his torch
against a stump of a tree, also joined the combat.
Beyond a calm "I thank you, sir; your arrival is most opportune,"
from the traveller, not a word passed as the swords clashed and
ground against each other.
"Dash in, and finish him," shouted the man who appeared the leader
of the assailants, and three of them rushed together at the
traveller. The leader fell back cursing, with a sword thrust
through his shoulder, just at the moment when Rupert sent the sword
of the man who was attacking him flying through the air, and
turning at once, engaged one of the two remaining assailants of the
traveller. But these had had enough of it; and as the lackeys came
running up, they turned, and rushed away into the darkness. The
lackeys at Rupert's order discharged their pistols after them; but
a moment later the sound of four horses making off at full gallop,
showed that they had escaped.
"By my faith," the traveller said, turning to Rupert, and holding
out his hand, "no knight errant ever arrived more opportunely. You
are a gallant gentleman, sir; permit me to ask to whom I am so
indebted?"
"My name is Rupert Holliday, sir," the lad said, as the stranger
shook his hand warmly, and who, as the lackey approached with the
torch, exclaimed:
"Why, by the king's head, you are but a stripling, and you have run
one of these fellows through the body, and disarmed the other, as
neatly as I ever saw it done in the schools. Why, young sir, if you
go on like this you will be a very Paladin."
"I have had good masters, sir," Rupert said, modestly; "and having
been taught to use my sword, there is little merit in trouncing
such rascals as these."
"By my faith, but there is though," the stranger said. "It is one
thing to fence in a school with buttoned foils, another to bear
oneself as calmly and as well as you did. But here are your
friends, or I mistake not."
The coach came lumbering up, at a speed which for coaches in those
days was wonderful, and as it stopped Colonel Holliday leapt out,
sword in hand.
"Is it all over?" he exclaimed. "Is Rupert hurt?"
"It is all over, sir; and I have not so much as a scratch," Rupert
said.
"Sir," the stranger said, uncovering, and making a courtly bow to
the old cavalier, and to Mistress Dorothy, who was looking from the
open door, "your son--"
"My grandson," the colonel, who had also uncovered, corrected.
"Your grandson arrived in time to save me from grievous peril. My
coachman and lackey were shot at the first fire, and I fancy one of
the horses. I disposed of one of the rascals, but four others
pressed me hard, while a fifth held a light to them. Your grandson
ran one through in fair fight, and disarmed another; I disabled a
third, and they ran. I have to thank him for my life; and, if you
will permit me to say so--and I have been many frays--no man ever
bore himself more coolly, or used his sword more skilfully, than
did this young gentleman."
"I am very proud indeed to hear that the lad bore himself so well;
although I own that he caused some anxiety to his mother and
myself; by rushing forward alone to join in a fray of whose extent
he knew nothing. However, all is well that ends well.
"And now, sir, as your servants are killed, and but one horse
remains to your carriage, will you permit me to offer you for the
night the hospitality of Windthorpe Chace? I am Colonel Holliday,
sir, an old servant of King Charles the First--"
"I accept your offer, sir, as frankly as it is made. I have often
heard your name. I, sir, am George Churchill."
"The Earl of Marlborough!" exclaimed Colonel Holliday.
"The same," the earl said, with a smile. "I am not greatly loved,
sir; but my name will, I am sure, do me no ill service with one of
the men of Naseby."
"No, indeed!" Colonel Holliday said, warmly; "it is at once a
pleasure and an honour to me to entertain so great a general at the
Chace."
"And now," the earl said, "a truce to compliments. Pray resume your
seat in the coach, sir. I will cut loose the horse from the coach,
and will follow you in company with your grandson."
Colonel Holliday in vain tried to persuade the earl to take his
place in the carriage.
The latter, however, firmly declined, and the colonel took his
place in the coach, and drove off at once, to make preparation for
the reception of his guest. The earl had even declined the offer to
leave one or both of the lackeys behind. And when the carriage had
driven off, he said to Rupert, who had stood looking with
respectful admiration at the greatest general of the age:
"Now, young sir, let us have a look at this carrion; maybe their
faces will throw some light upon this affair."
So saying, he took the torch which had been left burning, and
turned over the body of the man he had slain before Rupert arrived
on the scene.
"I do not know him," he said, looking steadily at the dead man's
face.
"I know him," Rupert exclaimed in surprise. "He is a saddler of
Derby--a fierce nonconformist and whig, and a preacher at
conventicles. And to think of his being a highwayman!"
"An assassin is a better term," the earl said contemptuously. "I
guessed from their number it was my life, and not my money, that
they sought.
"Now let us look at the fellow you sent to his account."
Rupert hung back as they approached the man he had killed. In those
days of rebellions, executions, and duels, human life was regarded
but lightly. Still, to a lad of little over fifteen the thought
that he had killed a man, even if in fair fight, was very painful.
"Ah, I thought so," the earl said. "This is a creature of a
political enemy. I have seen him in his antechamber. So the order
came from London, and the tools were found here. That will do. Now
let us get this horse out of the traces. It is some years since I
have ridden barebacked.
"No, I thank you," in answer to Rupert's offer of his own horse; "a
saddle matters not one way or the other. There, now for the Chace;
and I shall not be sorry to fall to on the supper which, I doubt
not, the good gentleman your grandfather will have prepared."
So saying, he vaulted on his horse, and with Rupert rode quietly
along the road to the Chace. The great door opened as they
approached, and four lackeys with torches came out. Colonel
Holliday himself came down the steps and assisted the earl to
alight, and led the way into the house.
They now entered the drawing room, where Mistress Dorothy was
seated. She arose and made a deep courtesy, in answer to the even
deeper bow with which the earl greeted her.
"My lord," she said, "welcome to Windthorpe Chace."
"Madam," the earl said, bowing over the hand she extended, until
his lips almost touched her fingers, "I am indeed indebted to the
fellows who thought to do me harm, in that they have been the means
of my making the acquaintance of a lady whose charms turned all
heads in London, and who left the court in gloom when she retired
to the country."
Nowadays, such a speech as this would be thought to savour of
mockery, but gentlemen two hundred years since ordinarily addressed
women in the language of high-flown compliment.
Mistress Holliday, despite her thirty-seven years, was still very
comely, and she smiled as she replied:
"My lord, ten years' absence from court has rendered me unused to
compliments, and I will not venture to engage in a war, even of
words, with so great a general."
Supper was now announced, and the earl offered his hand to lead
Mistress Dorothy to the dining hall.
The meal passed off quietly, the conversation turning entirely upon
country matters. The earl did full justice to the fare, which
consisted of a stuffed carp, fresh from the well-stocked ponds of
the Chace, a boar's head, and larded capon, the two latter dishes
being cold. With these were served tankards of Burgundy and of
sherries. Rupert, as was the custom of the younger members of
families, waited upon the honoured guest.
The meal over, Mistress Holliday rose. The earl offered her his
hand and led her to the door, where, with an exchange of
ceremonious salutes, she bade him goodnight.
Then the earl accompanied Colonel Holliday to the latter's room,
hung with rapiers, swords, and other arms. There ceremony was laid
aside, and the old cavalier and the brilliant general entered into
familiar talk, the former lighting a long pipe, of the kind known
at present as a "churchwarden."
The earl told Colonel Holliday of the discovery that had been made,
that the attack was no mere affair with highwaymen, but an attempt
at assassination by a political rival.
"I had been down," he said, "at Lord Hadleigh's, where there was a
gathering of many gentlemen of our way of thinking. I left London
quietly, and thought that none knew of my absence; but it is clear
that through some spy in my household my enemies learned both my
journey and destination. I came down on horseback, having sent
forward relays. When I arrived last night at Hadleigh my horse was
dead lame. I misdoubt now 'twas lamed in the stable by one of the
men who dogged me. Lord Hadleigh offered me his coach, to take me
back the first stage--to the inn where I had left my servants and
had intended to sleep. I accepted--for in truth I sat up and talked
all last night, and thought to doze the journey away. Your
Derbyshire roads are, however, too rough, and I was wide awake when
the first shot was fired!"
"Do you think of taking steps to punish the authors of this
outrage?" Colonel Holliday asked.
"By no means," the earl answered. "I would ask you to send over a
man, with the horse I rode on and another, at daybreak. Let him put
them into the coach and drive back to Hadleigh, taking with him the
bodies of the lackey and coachman. With him I will send a note to
my lord, asking that no stir be made in the matter. We need not set
the world talking as to my visit to his house; but lest any
magistrate stir in the matter, I will leave a letter for him,
saying that the coach in which I travelled was attacked by
highwaymen, and that two of them, as well as the two servants, were
killed, and that no further inquisition need be made into the
matter. You may be sure that the other side will say naught, and
they will likely enough go back and carry off their dead tonight,
and bury them quietly."
"Very well, sir," Colonel Holliday said. "My grandson will ride
over with you in the morning to Ashby-de-la-Zouche. Two well-armed
lackeys shall accompany you."
"Oh, there is no fear of another attempt," the earl said, smiling.
"Besides, your grandson and I could fight a whole troop of
cutthroats by daylight. What a swordsman that boy is! And as cool
as a veteran! He is your pupil with the sword, I presume?"
"Only partly; he owes most of his skill to a French emigre, who
calls himself Monsieur Dessin, but who had, I suspect, a far higher
title across the water. He is a magnificent swordsman; and as I was
able to teach the lad a few thrusts which in their time did me good
service, and the boy has a clear eye, a cool head, and a firm
wrist, he can, young as he is, hold his own, go where he will."
"What do you mean to do with him? You ought to make a soldier of
him. It is the career of a gentleman, and we shall have a stirring
campaign on the Rhine next spring. He will have plenty of
opportunities to distinguish himself, and I need not say he will
have my best favour and protection!"
"I thank you heartily," the colonel said, "and doubt not that one
day the lad may claim the fulfilment of your promise. At present
his mother dreams of his being a Parliament man, and shining at
court. But you might as well expect to teach a falcon to dance.
Besides, the lad is a soldier heart and soul, and has, saving your
presence, little of the whig in him; and his mother will find ere
long, that if he goes to Parliament it will not be to vote as she
wishes.
"Besides," he said, moodily, "I foresee changes here which he,
young as he is, will not brook. If then at present I decline your
kind offer in his name, I think that the time is not far off when
he may remind you of it."
"Let him do so," the earl said, "and a commission in horse, foot,
or artillery is at his service. And now, with your permission, I
will to bed, for my eyelids are consumedly heavy."
Colonel Holliday rang a hand bell, and a lackey appeared with
lighted candles. Preceded by him the old cavalier accompanied his
guest to the door of his apartment, and seeing that a posset cup of
spiced cordial was steaming on the table, and that everything else
was properly prepared, left him to repose.