"And prithee, who is he that reads?"
The voice of my informant dropped into a solemn whisper, as though
'twere something sacred that he spoke of, as he answered:
"That is Doctor Robert Ferguson, chaplain to Monmouth's army, and a
terror to all workers of iniquity."
On hearing this I started round as though the man had struck me, and
barely saved myself from crying out.
"What's that?" I gasped. "Ferguson the Plotter?"
The fellow glowered upon me for a space, looking me up and down with
angry eyes.
"Thy tongue wags over free for one so young," snarled he at last. "Nay,
Ferguson the godly. See how his face lights up with blazing zeal!"
But that was enough for me. Gaining the outskirts of the crowd I
hurried to the "George" to get my horse, pursued by such a hornet's nest
of wild, bewildering thoughts as fairly made my head sing.
On coming near the jail I heard a great commotion going forward, and
there, as I live, was Simon Jackson, the Nonconformist blacksmith,
bare-armed and sledge in hand, raining fierce blows upon the stout,
nail-studded door. He had already burst the town-hall open to make a
storage place for Monmouth's baggage, and was now bent on setting free
his brother Nonconformists, who, as I have said, had lately been
imprisoned by the Mayor.
Even as I looked the door flew open with a crash, and out stepped half a
score of white-faced, startled men, among them old Sampson Larke, the
grey-haired Anabaptist minister.
"There," methought as I turned away, "falls the pride and power of
Master Gregory Alford!"
I found the inn yard humming with excitement. Serving men and maids ran
to and fro distracted; for the news had already reached outlying
villages, and men poured in from every quarter, some armed and eager,
others idly curious, but all of them hot and thirsty, and calling loudly
to be served with ale: while on a top step stood the landlord, surveying
the giddy sight like one bedazed. The name of Monmouth was on every
lip, and each new-comer added to the din.
Shouldering my way through the buzzing, drinking throng I made for my
horse. The stable in which I had left her lay round a dark, far corner
of the yard, and on turning this I noticed that the door was closed and
that a flickering light showed underneath it. This surprised me not a
little, and hurrying up I tried the door. To my great astonishment I
found it fastened on the inner side. I called, but no one answered save
my mare, who gave a joyous whinny. Listening for a moment I made out
voices talking in a whisper, and thus feeling certain that some mischief
was afoot I put my shoulder to the door (an ancient, rickety affair) and
burst it open. Then indeed I started back, as well I might, for there
was my horse already saddled, while beside her stood two burly,
steel-capped fellows, armed with sword and pistol. One of them held a
lantern, the other Kitty's bridle, and both regarded me with guilty,
startled faces, like the thieving dogs they were.
Just then the mare turned round her pretty head to look at me, and
neighed again.
"Is this thy mare?" asked he who held the bridle.
"Well--yes," I answered; "at least, that is, I thought it was; but now
it seems as though I must have been mistaken."
"Thou hast a mocking tongue, young man," whined he who held the lantern.
"Yet that were surely better than a thieving hand," quoth I.
"What mean you?" he asked, taking a step towards me.
"Exactly what I say," I answered slowly. "In other words, you are a
pair of sneaking thieves."
At that each laid a hand upon his sword and eyed me fiercely, while he
with the light came forward in a threatening fashion.
"We are no thieves," he hissed, showing his yellow teeth. "We claim thy
mare for the cause."
"And, prithee, what cause is that?" I asked.
"The cause of liberty and truth," whined he.
"The cause of Monmouth, eh?"
He nodded frowningly.
"Then," said I, "if liberty and truth go hand in hand with thieving, may
God help the Duke! Let go that bridle," I added, striding up to the
fellow who had laid a hand on it again.
He hesitated for a moment, glaring upon me with a pair of angry,
bloodshot eyes; but, though only eighteen years, I topped him by a good
three inches, and doubtless my face told tales besides. Growling
something anent "godless upstarts" he drew back sulkily and joined his
comrade by the door which he had closed. And there they stood muttering
together and casting ugly glances at me.
Turning Kitty round, I took her bridle on my arm and moved towards them.
"Open that door," I said, "and let me pass."
But they were two to one, and odds give courage even unto cowards.
Whipping out their swords they set themselves against the door.
"You leave that horse or go not," said one.
"Aye, verily," quoth the other.
Stopping, I also drew my sword and said:
"Ah! say you so? Listen; do you know that I have but to call, and half
a score good friends will come to teach you honesty? Again, I say, open
that door and let me pass."
"Ah!" jeered the fellow who had closed it. "You come not over us with
that, young man. Know you that we also have some friends without; not
half a score, but three score--well-armed withal, and zealous in the
cause to boot."
There was ugly truth in that. I thought swiftly for a moment. Yes,
'twas my only chance!
"Fools!" I cried. "You do not know what business I am bent on!"
"Nay, how should we know it?" growled the bridle man. "What is it?"
"Why, such as, if you knew it," I replied, "methinks would make you open
that door with right goodwill."
"Prithee then, tell us what such mighty business is," sneered the other.
"Whom doth it concern?"
"One Robert Ferguson," I answered slowly.
At that the fellows started as though my words had been a pistol barrel.
"Ferguson!" quoth one of them uneasily. "Our godly chaplain!"