THE UNTOOTHSOME PLUM.
It was a starry night, with a threatening of moonrise, and Dorothy was
anxious to reach the cottage before it grew lighter. But they must not
get into the high road at any nearer point than the last practicable,
for then they would be more likely to meet soldiers, and Dick's feet to
betray their approach. Over field after field, therefore, they kept on,
as fast as Tom, now and then stopping to peer anxiously over the next
fence or into a boundary ditch, could lead the way. At last they reached
the place by the side of a bridge, where Marquis led Richard off the
road, and there they scrambled up.
'O Lord!' cried Tom, and waked a sentry dozing on the low parapet.
'Who goes there?' he cried, starting up, and catching at his carbine,
which leaned against the wall.
'Oh, master!' began Tom, in a voice of terrified appeal; but Dorothy
interrupted him.
'I am an honest woman of the neighbourhood,' she said. 'An' thou wilt
come home with me, I will afford thee a better bed than thou hast there,
and also a better breakfast, I warrant thee, than thou had a supper.'
'That is, an' thou be one of the godly,' supplemented Tom.
'I thank thee, mistress,' returned the sentinel, 'but not for the
indulgence of carnal appetite will I forsake my post. Who is he goeth
with thee?'
'A fellow whose wit is greater than his courage, and yet he goeth with
many for a born fool. A parlous coward he is, else might he now be
fighting the Amalekites with the sword of the Lord and of Gideon. Yet in
good sooth he serveth me well for the nonce.'
The sentry glanced at Tom, but could see little of him except a long
white oval, and Tom was now collected enough to put in exercise his best
wisdom, which consisted in holding his tongue.
'Answer me then, mistress, how, being a godly woman, as I doubt not from
thy speech thou art, thee rides thus late with none but a fool to keep
thee company? Knowest thou not that the country is full of soldiers,
whereof some, though that they be all true-hearted and right-minded men,
would not mayhap carry themselves so civil to a woman as corporal
Bearbanner? And now, I bethink me, thou comest from the direction of
Raglan!'
Here he drew himself up, summoned a voice from his chest a storey or two
deeper, and asked in magisterial tone:
'Whence comest thou, woman? and on what business gaddest thou so late?'
'I am come from visiting at a friend's house, and am now almost on my
own farm,' answered Dorothy.
The man turned to Tom, and Dorothy began to regret she had brought him:
he was trembling visibly, and his mouth was wide open with terror.
'See,' she said, 'how thy gruff voice terrifieth the innocent! If now he
should fall in a fit thou wert to blame.'
As she spoke she put her hand in her pocket, and taking from it her
untoothsome plum, popped it into Tom's mouth. Instantly he began to make
such strange uncouth noises that the sentinel thought he had indeed
terrified him into a fit.
'I must get him straightway home. Good-night, friend,' said Dorothy, and
giving Dick the rein, she was off like the wind, heedless of the shouts
of the sentinel or the feeble cries of pursuing Tom, who, if he could
not fight, could run. Following his mistress at great speed, he was
instantly lost in the darkness, and the sentinel, who had picketed his
horse in a neighbouring field, sat down again on the parapet of the
bridge, and began to examine all that Dorothy had said with a wondrous
inclination to discover the strong points in it.
Having galloped a little way, Dorothy drew bridle and halted for Tom. As
soon as he came up, she released him, and telling him to lay hold of
Dick's mane and run alongside, kept him at a fast trot all the way to
his mother's house.
The moon had risen before they reached it, and Dorothy was therefore
glad, when she dismounted at the gate, to think she need ride no
further. But while Tom went in to rouse his mother, she let Dick have a
few bites of the grass before taking him into the kitchen--lest the
roundheads should find him. The next moment, however, out came Tom in
terror, saying there was a man in his mother's closet, and he feared the
roundheads were in possession.
'Then take care of thyself, Tom,' said Dorothy; and mounting instantly,
she made Dick scramble up into the fields that lay between the cottage
and her own house, and set off at full speed across the grass in the
moonlight--an ethereal pleasure which not even an anxious secret could
blast.
Through a gap in the hedge she had just popped into the second field,
when she heard the click of a flint-lock, and a voice she thought she
knew ordering her to stand: within a few yards of her was again a
roundhead soldier. If she rode away, he would fire at her; that mode of
escape therefore she would keep for a last chance. The moon by this time
was throwing an unclouded light from more than half a disc upon the
field.
Keeping a sharp eye upon the man's movements, she allowed him to come
within a pace or two, but the moment he would have taken Dick by the
bridle she was three or four yards away.
'Fright not my horse, friend,' she said.--'But how!' she added, suddenly
remembering him, 'is it possible? Master Upstill! Gently, gently, little
Dick! Master Upstill is an old friend. What! hast thou too turned
soldier? Left thy last and lapstone and turned soldier, master Upstill?'
'I have left all and followed him, mistress,' answered Cast-down.
'Art sure he called thee, master Upstill?'
'I heard him with my own ears.'
'Called thee to be a shedder of blood, master Upstill?'
'Called me to be a fisher of men, and thee I catch, mistress--thus,'
returned the man, stepping quickly forward and making another grasp at
Dick's bridle.
It was all Dorothy could do to keep herself from giving him a smart blow
across the face with her whip, and riding off. But she gave Dick the cut
instead, and sent him yards away.
'Poor Dick! poor Dick!' she said, patting his neck; 'be quiet; master
Upstill will do thee no wrong. Be quiet, little man.'
As she thus talked to her genet, Upstill again drew near, now more surly
than at first.
'Say what manner of woman art thou?' he demanded with pompous anger.
'Whence comes thou, and whither does thee go?'
'Home,' answered Dorothy.
'What place calls thee home?'
'Why! dost not know me, master Upstill? When I was a little one, thou
didst make my shoes for me.'
'I trust it will be forgiven me, mistress. Truly I had ne'er made shoe
for thee an' I had foreseen what thee would come to! For I make no
farther doubt thou art a consorter with malignants, harlots, and
papists.'
Again he clutched at her bridle, and this time, whether it was Dorothy
or Dick's fault, with success. Dorothy dropped the bridle, put her hand
in her pocket, struck Dick smartly with her whip, and as he reared in
consequence, drew it across Upstill's eyes, and so found the chance of
administering her bolus.
It was thoroughly effective. The fellow left his hold of the bridle, and
began a series of efforts to remove it, which rapidly grew wilder and
wilder, until at last his gestures were those of a maniac.
'There!' she cried, as she bounded from him, 'take thy first lesson in
good manners. No one can rid thee of that mouthful, which is as thy evil
words returned to choke thee!--Thou hadst better keep me in sight,' she
added, as she gave Dick his head, 'for no one else can free thee.'
Upstill ceased his futile efforts, caught up his carbine, and fired--not
without risk to Dorothy, for he was far too wrathful to take the aim
that would have ensured her safety. But she rode on unhurt, meditating
how to secure Upstill when she got him to Wyfern, whither she doubted
not he would follow her. Her difficulties were not yet past, however,
for just as she reached her own ground, she was once again met by the
order to stand.
This time it came in a voice which, notwithstanding the anxiety it
brought with it, was almost as welcome as well known, and yet made her
tremble for the first time that night: it was the voice of Richard
Heywood. Dick also seemed to know it, for he stood without a hint from
his mistress, while, through the last hedge that parted her from the
little yet remaining of the property of her fathers, came the man she
loved--an enemy between her and her own.
The marquis's request to be allowed to communicate with the king had
been an unfortunate one. It increased suspicion of all kinds, rendered
the various reports of the landing of the Irish army under lord
Glamorgan more credible, roused the resolution to render all
communication impossible, and led to the drawing of a cordon around the
place that not a soul should pass unquestioned. The measure would indeed
have been unavailing had the garrison been as able as formerly to make
sallies; but ever since colonel Morgan received his reinforcement, the
issuing troopers had been invariably met at but a few yards from home,
and immediately driven in again by largely superior numbers. Still the
cordon required a good many more men than the besieging party could well
spare without too much weakening their positions, and they had therefore
sought the aid of all the gentlemen of puritian politics in the
vicinity, and of course that of Mr. Heywood. With the men his father
sent, Richard himself offered his services, in the hope that, at the
coming fall of the stronghold, he might have a chance of being useful to
Dorothy. They had given the cordon a wide extension, in order that an
issuing messenger might not perceive his danger until he was too far
from the castle to regain it, and then by capturing him might acquire
information. Hence it came that posts could be assigned to Richard and
his men within such a distance of Redware as admitted of their being
with their own people when off duty.