"Of horrid stabs in groves forlorn,
And murders done in caves."--_Hood._
From the time he heard the first shot up to the moment he saw his son
pierced by the brigand's weapon, Mr. Lennox had sat as if he was an
effigy and not a man, the father of him who had nobly died for him, and
the senseless girl who had sunk against him in a swoon. Whether it was
abject fear, or whether he was stunned by the horrid murder of his son
and the fainting state of Caroline, or whether both preyed on the old
man's mind we know not, but certain it is he sat as if powerless,
insensible, crushed.
"To work, comrades," cried the captain of the band; "you, my Pedro, have
ably spun yon fiery coxcomb, but more remains to be done. Pedro, lay a
hand on the jewels, you know where they lie. I myself will see what the
old dotard is about."
Whilst Pedro hastened to the trunk where the jewels were hidden, Luigi
dismounted; followed by Adrian and several others, he approached the
carriage-door. Roused for an instant from his fearful lethargy, Mr.
Lennox aimed the pistol he held in his hand at the first intruder's
head, and fired, narrowly missing Luigi, who little expected such a
welcome. As it was, the smoke so clouded him, suffocating him with its
sulphurous vapour, that for an instant he was as it were knocked back.
"The old devil! who would have thought of that? Iddio! I had a narrow
escape: the rascal! he shall suffer for it!" exclaimed the irate
chieftain, as he rushed forward at the old gentleman, who had after this
sudden outburst again relapsed into dastardly inaction. "You old viper!
I've got you now, and by Heaven I'll teach you to fire at me that way!
here, Adrian, help us to drag the venomous old toad from his hole."
Without waiting for the assistance he asked, Luigi, seizing the old man
by the shoulder, dragged him forth notwithstanding his cries for mercy.
"Pity my grey hairs! pity a father you have left sonless! spare me, oh!
gentlemen, for God's sake! mercy! misericordia! for the sake of God--for
the Virgin!"
"Cease whining in your villainous Italian, and ask for mercy in good
English, you drivelling old poltroon," cried Luigi, in that tongue, for
he had hitherto spoken in Italian.
He still held his prostrate foe by the arm with an iron grip, menacing
death with his naked dagger. Had it not been for the dire reality and
fatal signs of murder around, there was something almost ludicrous in
the scene. Lying on his back, with his grey hair tangled and torn by his
rough usage, his hands clasped together in beseeching agony, tears of
terror streaming down his face, his countenance betraying awful fright,
Mr. Lennox presented a remarkable contrast to the stern brigand, who,
kneeling with one knee on his fallen captive, played with a shining
dagger in one hand, whilst with the other he held his prisoner firm. The
robber's countenance showed mingled contempt for his antagonist, if a
resistless prisoner may so be called, and joy at having thus a foe in
his power. But the scene was too terribly bloody for a smile; the
father's foot rested against the body of his dead son, a little further
off lay the corpse of the postilion with his limbs drawn together in the
agony of his dying struggle, whilst fierce men on all sides cursed and
swore as they dragged forth the baggage from the carriage, rudely
breaking the lids, and scattering the articles on the road in their
search for gold or precious things. Some of the band stood mute admirers
of the scene of carnage and rapine, others were passionless lookers on,
whilst one appeared to regard with horror the whole outrage. This
solitary instance amongst a band infamous for its butcheries was Adrian
Vardarelli. Leaning against his horse from which he had dismounted, he
regarded the various incidents with a look approaching to disgust,--once
when he saw the face of Mr. Lennox as he was torn from his carriage,
this look changed to one of intense surprise; but again he reposed into
his former state of indolent disapproval. When Mr. Lennox heard his
native tongue spoken where he least expected it, and by one he least
imagined to know it, a sudden feeling of joy thrilled through him.
An Englishman, then, the captain of the band was, he knew it by his
accent; he knew that some of the fiercest brigands had been his
countrymen, but he felt a conviction, bad as he was, brutal as was his
conduct, there was yet an appeal to his mercy as a fellow countryman,
and he would try if there was not in his black heart a chord that
responded.
"Capitano," he cried, "I am an Englishman, so are you. Oh! for the sake
of our mutual land--for the love of God and man--for the sake of
England, your native home,--spare me, spare my daughter; take my money,
take all, but save my life."
"Look at me, you cowardly old rascal, look at me; do you not know me?
then ask yourself if you have cause to expect mercy; no, by G-- I told
you a reckoning time would come, it has come, and d--n me if I let it
slip."
It is not in the power of language to tell the surprise of Mr. Lennox,
as he gazed on the speaker, and in Luigi Vardarelli, the terror of the
Capitanata, the scourge of the Abruzzi and all the south of Italy,
beheld his old acquaintance Captain John de Vere.
"Ha! Lennox, old boy," continued the robber, "you little thought Luigi
Vardarelli was your old friend the Captain. Egad I little thought, when
Pedro brought me the news to-day an old gentleman, his son and daughter,
with rich jewels, passed this way, that it was my old friend Lennox. I
told you a dozen years ago you might live to repent your words to me
that night; you have lived to do so, and by the Almighty you shall
repent it,--your life alone shall satisfy me."
Poor Mr. Lennox, who had been comforting himself with the hopes that old
friendship would at least save his life, saw all his visions vanish like
smoke with the last dreadful words; yet he determined he would not lose
his life for want of asking. During their converse the Captain had let
his unfortunate prisoner loose from the iron grip with which he had till
then detained him, and now stood calmly scrutinizing his suppliant.
"Oh, Captain de Vere, noble Captain de Vere, for the sake of old
friendship, spare me, for the sake of the Earl, your departed sister,
have pity on me, an aged, helpless man. Why should you take my life? I
have done you no harm; leave me to finish my life in peace; spare me to
my daughter. Oh! you have had your revenge in slaying my son, the hope
of my age. Oh! stay your sword."
"Name not your son in the same breath with your abject supplications; he
died a man, he had some pluck in him, but sirrah! you are a disgrace to
your name--a disgrace to Britain, and all your entreaties will not move
me. I will hang you on the next tree and rid the world of such a
poltroon."
"Then if you have no mercy in your black heart--if you have no natural
pity in your reptile blood--hear me as an Englishman. I tell you a heavy
retribution will fall on you if you shed my blood. I am a Briton, and
His Majesty's liege subject. I am his special servant; dread him, bold
robber, he will send his armies and root such accursed bloodthirsty
wolves from this country."
"Ha, you speak very fine, my brave fellow, but I scorn your threats as
much as your entreaties. I have long renounced my allegiance to your
besotted king; here his armies and navies are alike useless: besides, my
bravo, who will tell his most sacred Majesty that his servant hangs like
a felon on a nut-tree? But egad, we waste time arguing with a cowardly
old miscreant like this. Pedro, swing him up on yon tree."
"You dare not--oh heavens! you dare not--the Earl--the King--oh, no,
no," embracing the very hessians of the bandit. "Captain de Vere, for
auld lang syne, pardon me, I know not what I say, hang me not like a
dog."
"As you are one, that were no great fault; but perhaps you wish a little
torture first. Pedro, Antonio, twist the rope round his forehead first,
till his eyes start a little."
"Good God! you surely joke, you would not, you could not do so,"
exclaimed the unfortunate man, as he saw these desperados approach to
fulfil their master's order.
"I joke not," replied the Captain; "you think I am a woman, and turn
pale at the sight of blood. I have not been pirate and bandit a dozen
years for nothing, by G--. I have not roamed torrid and temperate zone,
or pitched shiploads of niggers into the sea to grow sick at a little
bloodshed, or merciful because an old coward asks for mercy. I have seen
a dozen better men than thee, old dotard, tortured and beheaded, and
think you I joke; ye gods, you will find me another man than you think.
Did you hear me, sirrahs? do my bidding, or Iddio! I'll serve you the
same. And hark you, if he chatters for mercy any more, tear his vile
tongue out by the roots."
These awful commands would doubtless have been carried out to the letter
had not Adrian, or, as our readers must have already guessed, Edward
L'Estrange, then stepped forward, and pleaded for an old friend.
"Nay, Luigi, hurt not the poor old imbecile, he is not worth your
interest. Hands off, villains!" (to the two ruffians who were about to
begin their work of butchery). "Heed them not, old man, I will not let
them harm you, for the sake of old and better days."
"God bless you, Edward L'Estrange, you had ever a feeling heart! God
bless you for befriending an old, and friendless man, who has fallen
among thieves! God be merciful to you for saving a poor fellow
creature's life!" exclaimed the poor man when his tormentors departed.
The Captain bit his lips. "You were ever a soft-hearted fool, and would
be better occupied in wooing your lady-love, or in writing sonnets to
another's bride, than aiding in any manly exploit; but, hark you, I will
spare only his tortures--not his life. He fired at me, and by heaven he
dies for it! I am captain here, no one shall countermand my orders."
"Edward L'Estrange, for the love of God, say something for me."
"I can do no more; he is captain. God knows if I was, your blood should
not stain my hand; be thankful I have saved you from torture."
Poor Lennox thought he had small cause for thankfulness.
"Are we to loiter here all day? By heavens, my comrades! heard you ever
such a noise about an old fool's life before? Egad, one would think
there were two captains here. Every command is reversed! Which will you
have as a leader--Adrian or me? Which will do most for you--he or I?
Whom will you obey? By G--, it's time there was some understanding."
"You, you, you shall be our chief, _al diavolo_ with Adrian, the
faint-hearted fool!" exclaimed Pedro; all the rest assented.
"Then obey me only," said the Captain; "we shall have the sbirri here in
half an hour more, unless we come to quarters. Here, hang, shoot,
strangle, or behead yon rascally dotard--which will you have, Lennox?
there's store of deaths, choose away and be sharp! You are dumb, are
you? Then I'll choose for you. Antonio cut his head off, and stick it on
a pole; he ever soared high, he shall be higher after death than before
it. Toss that carrion into the ravine," pointing to the postilion, "and
whip off that lad's head, too, and stick it on a pole opposite his
father's; and now for the girl."
We turn our backs on the scene that followed, and shut our ears to the
heart-rending cries for mercy. Enough to say in less time than we have
taken to write this, the heads of the unhappy father and son were cut
off, and whilst the bleeding trunks were left as they lay, the ghastly
heads were stuck on two poles, and elevated on either side of the road.
Turning a deaf ear and merciless eye to the butchery, the Captain
approached the carriage, on the floor of which the hapless Caroline lay
in a dead faint.
"Ha! not ill-looking by any means. Come, my girl, cheer up," applying
some brandy to her nose, whilst another robber flung some water on the
senseless girl's face. These restoratives had the desired effect, and
the poor girl opened her eyes; at the same time crying out, "My poor
father, is he alive? Oh! spare him, noble sirs!"
"He is well--that is the old man--and will remain so if his daughter
will be Luigi's bride," said the hard-hearted Captain.
"Oh, God be thanked--but my brother?"
"Heed not him, come away; here Pedro, Adrian, you were ever a lady's
man, give this girl a swing on my horse, and take her down to the cave;
she will do to drive away my hours of ennui."
L'Estrange stooped down and lifted her in his arms: taking her out of
the carriage, he let her slowly fall down from his arms till her feet
touched the ground; he turned her head away from the poles with their
ghastly heads. His face betrayed convulsive emotions, as if he was
planning something within.
"Why burden yourself with her, Capitano?" said Pedro, "there are fairer
girls than she in Avellino; she will be a burden, and ever moping and
crying, like your last Inglese girl."
"You speak sooth, d--n me if you don't. What do I want with the pigeon?
Wring her neck, and let's be off with our booty."
"Luigi," said L'Estrange, for by that name he had long learned to
address him, "you have had your way with the old man--you have dipped
your hands already in innocent blood--leave this girl to me, let her be
my prize."
As he spoke these words poor Caroline had detected the cruel reality,
and, giving a wild scream as she glanced towards the fatal poles and
their dreadful burdens, again swooned and sunk down on the ground at her
protector's feet.
"You chicken-hearted fool, you were ever a blockhead when women fell in
your way, but this girl is my prize, and I'll do what I please with her.
See, the silly dove has gone and swooned again. Egad, you make a nice
pair. Come, Adrian, away with such folly; run your dagger through her
heart, and let's away, or we shall bring the whole country buzzing about
our ears."
"Protect me, sir; oh, protect me," cried Caroline, awakening again from
her swoon, and as if by instinct seeing in him a deliverer.
"I will--fear not, maiden."
"Can you?" roared the Captain. "Are you able? Ye powers! he dares me,
his captain!"
"You are not my captain, I renounce my allegiance. I have long been
sickened by your brutalities. I wanted but an excuse to shake off an
accursed yoke. I am free; henceforth I forsake your band. I will protect
this girl. Thank God, black as my heart is--dark as my crimes have
been--I have something human left still; let me see who will touch her!"
Whilst he spoke these words a dark light beamed on his face, his eyes
seemed to flash fire; beneath him knelt the poor girl, who had flown to
him for protection, around him scowled the brigands, struck dumb at this
sudden rebellion.
The Captain's very aspect darkened, as with a stern voice he again
asked, "Comrades, who is to be captain?--whose is the girl?"
"Thou art--she is yours," exclaimed twenty voices.
"Then renounce your booty, give up your prize, obey your chief!
miscreant, fool, rebel, accursed and d----d, yield thee!" he shouted
rather than spoke these words, and, as he spoke, he advanced to where
L'Estrange stood.
Never did fierce tiger guard its prey as L'Estrange did his suppliant;
his whole frame trembled with passion, his mouth quivered, his eyes
rolled fire.
"Back on your life; tempt me not," he cried, in a voice shuddering from
wrath; "she is mine, I will guard her to death--I will save her, I will;
fear not, maiden."
As the dove trembles when the hawk approaches--as the chicken hides
beneath its mother's wing when the kite poises above--so trembled
Caroline, so did she crouch beneath her protector, as the fierce Captain
stepped forward.
The rest of the brigands stood still in a circle round, they were men,
and they loved to see manly resistance; it would be hard to tell which
of the two had most well-wishers. They saw L'Estrange was no coward, no
faint heart, although merciful. They knew the Captain's character, and
in silence watched. There was not one there who would give unwarrantable
assistance to either,--the two must fight it out--they only looked on.
"Save _yourself_, Adrian, save yourself, L'Estrange; see yonder come the
troops," pointing down the vale, up which came a large detachment of
mounted sbirri; "yet," laying his hand on Caroline's shoulder, whilst
she shrunk from his touch, "never shall it be said mortal man bearded me
living. I am captain, I will have my lawful captive, and," lifting his
bright dagger, "now yield thee, give her up. I will be chief--nothing
but death shall make me yield my authority."
"Then die!" cried L'Estrange, striking a back-blow at his enemy with his
stiletto. It sunk beneath the blade of the Captain's right shoulder.
"Oh, God! you have killed me, villain! oh, God! I am done for!"
ejaculated the unhappy man, as he sunk backwards. At the same instant a
dozen gunshots rent the air, and the robbers were surrounded on every
side by enemies.
"What have I done?" exclaimed L'Estrange, gazing at the ghastly face of
the Captain. "I have killed him! God forgive me!"
Then, throwing Caroline across the saddle-bow of his horse which stood
beside him, he himself mounted in an instant, and, casting a hurried
glance at the new foe and his late comrades, struck his spurs into his
courser's flanks, and dashed through the sbirri, managing his horse with
his knees; holding Caroline with one hand, whilst with the other he
whirled his sabre over his head, cutting his way right and left through
the sbirri. A dozen pistol-balls followed his flight from both
friends--at least former ones,--and enemies; but he seemed charmed,--no
bullet struck him, and he was soon beyond range both of ball and vision.
The fight and its awful end had so engaged the bandits, they did not
mark the new enemy approach, and gradually surround them: when, however,
the first shot was fired, and one of their band fell mortally wounded,
they were soon up and doing.
The two conflicts went on together for a few moments; then the Captain
fell, and the sbirri, seeing the champion sink, rushed again on their
foes with renewed energy.
The robbers were not men to be taken by surprise, as the sbirri found to
their cost. They were all mounted in an instant; and the most of them,
well acquainted with the ground, which their antagonists were not,
disappeared in the woods, and from behind the trees kept up a telling
fire. Man after man dropped before the unseen shots, and the few
remaining soon began to lose spirit. When their Captain fell, and Adrian
galloped off with his prize, a yell of vengeance arose from the
brigands; and one of joy from the sbirri. The former--at least half a
dozen who still remained--rushed to protect him from the latter, who
strove to gain possession of the prize. A terrible hand-to-hand conflict
was fought over the wounded man, who laughed as he saw them so grimly
engage; for though mortally, he was only wounded as yet, and might live
many hours.
Several bullets were, as we have already said, fired after the
retreating L'Estrange. The battle still went on over the Captain; the
sbirri wavered,--they yielded, and then fled. But they did not escape;
every man was shot or cut down, and not even one escaped alive to tell
the tale! The successful belligerents then took up their wounded
captain, as well as the plunder, and diving into the woods, sought their
cave, leaving five dead, and carrying home four more wounded besides
their chief Luigi.
About half an hour after the conflict had ceased, and the brigands were
gone, a solitary figure emerged from the woods, crossed himself when he
saw the numerous corpses, and the poles with their bleeding trophies,
and whistled, faintly at first, as if afraid of the reappearance of the
enemy, then louder. His whistle was answered by plaintive neighs, and in
less than ten minutes two of the four horses trotted up to the
postilion; by-and-by a third also appeared; after some time he succeeded
in harnessing his horses to the despoiled carriage, and set off alone
for Foggia.
He had not proceeded far, however, ere the temporary fastenings he had
made gave way, and the carriage once more came to a stand-still. The
postilion alighted, and then, giving the other horses their freedom,
mounted one, on which he galloped to the Earl's villa, bearing with him
a scarf dyed with blood which had belonged to Caroline, as a dread token
of the truth of his tale.