_BACK TO TAUNTON._
Had I been free, had I had none else to think of, had I not been bound
in honour to my uncle, nothing would have held me back from openly
espousing the cause of the Duke, and seeking if I might not at least
enrol myself in some capacity amongst his followers. I would have
implored the Viscount to let me serve him in the capacity of groom or
valet, so that I might be with him, and follow the fortunes of war.
But I knew that until I had fulfilled the task intrusted to me I was
not mine own master; and yet I felt the fire burning so hot within me,
as I saw the muster of this goodly array and the martial aspect of the
town, that I felt my only safety lay in flight, and that I must tear
myself away before I took some step which would be disloyal to mine
uncle, and a breach of the trust he had reposed in me.
I thought of all this as I lay in a narrow bed in an attic, counting
myself lucky to have so much as a straw pallet to rest my weary bones
upon--for weary I was with the excitements of the day; and the town
was so full of recruits that numbers of these had to camp in the open
field or in yards and barns. This was no great hardship whilst the dry
warm weather lasted; and all men were so wrought up by the thought
of the coming deliverance from Popery and tyranny, that nothing was
counted a grievance in the good cause.
On Saturday morning I woke betimes, and after turning over all
things in my mind, I resolved that I must not linger longer where
I was, but make my way back that day as far as my aunt's house at
Ilminster--according to promise--and then on to Taunton on Monday. The
Duke, I had heard, would not leave Lyme before Monday, so I should be
at home in good time to give notice of his approach.
But I felt that I could not leave without one more look at the Duke;
and, moreover, I bethought me that my lord the Viscount might desire to
send some letter or message to Mistress Mary: in fine, I had a hundred
good reasons for not hastening away, as it might have been wise to do.
I took as good a breakfast as I could get at such a busy time, and
putting the saddle on Blackbird, sallied forth in the brave sunshine to
find the Viscount, and to pick up as much information as I could as to
the plans and route of the Duke.
Now, although I think that this was not very well resolved on my
part, I have never regretted it; for it enabled me to witness a most
extraordinary and lamentable occurrence, which did much to damp the joy
which was in all our hearts, and to send me on my way a sadder and
a wiser man. But yet, I ween, there is something in our nature which
makes us eager to see all that is to be seen, whether the sight be of
sorrow or terror or joy; and therefore, when I approached the place
where the Duke's standard had been set up, and saw that some sort of
a tumult was going on about and around it, I pressed the more eagerly
forward, and soon made my way (thinking less of my manners than of my
eagerness and curiosity) into the innermost circle.
I have spoken many times of Old Dare, as he is still called in Taunton
Town, where his memory is kept green, and of his forwardness in the
cause of liberty and of the Duke; and how that he was always first
to be on the spot when there was any fighting and any struggle for
freedom. He had spent most of the time since landing in scouring the
country for horses for the Duke, and had come in late the previous
evening with some forty good beasts--the one he had purchased for
himself being a very fine animal.
All this I did not know at the time, but heard it afterwards. What
I did see when I approached was that one of the Duke's captains,
whose name I had been told was Fletcher (I have not spoken of all
the captains, fearing to confuse the reader with so many new names),
was seated upon a fine horse, ready equipped, as it appeared, for a
journey, and that Old Dare stood beside him with his hand upon the
bridle, speaking loud words in a very angry manner.
Now it had been said to me that the Scotchman Fletcher was one of
the few men about the Duke who really understood the art of war, and
that he was the most valuable man we had on our side; so that I was
astonished to hear high words passing between him and Old Dare, and to
observe that the altercation was fast growing into a serious quarrel.
But even then I was little enough prepared for what my eyes witnessed.
Scarce had I come into full sight and hearing of the disputants, before
Dare raised his hand in a threatening manner, as though he would have
struck his adversary with the cane in his hand; whereupon Captain
Fletcher, roused to a great wrath, drew forth his pistol and shot Old
Dare dead as he stood.
I could scarce believe my eyes. A mist seemed to swim before them as
I saw the gallant figure totter and sway, and fall helplessly to the
ground. Instantly all was commotion and alarm. The Scottish gentleman
turned in his saddle and addressed those about him in loud tones,--
"Gentlemen, I call you to witness that the fault is none of mine. No
man of honour could suffer himself to be insulted as that fellow was
insulting me. I appeal to any gentleman who saw and heard all. Could I
have done other than I did?"
A clamour and tumult at once arose of such magnitude that I was glad to
back away out of the forefront of the commotion, and trust to chance to
pick up later the gist of the matter. But whilst the crowd surged round
the body of Old Dare on the ground, and round his slayer, yet mounted
upon the fine charger over which the dispute had appeared to arise,
Captain Thomas Dare came hurrying up at the head of his levies, and all
were crying in loud and angry tones,--
"Vengeance! vengeance! Shall the murderer of Dare go free? Let
him be taken before the Duke! Let justice be done upon him!
Vengeance--vengeance--vengeance!"
The Duke was already upon the scene, a very troubled and anxious look
on his face, as was indeed no wonder, seeing that the day had begun
thus badly. There was a great and increasing tumult around him, and I
could not tear myself away, although I could hear nothing of what was
going on.
After a long time, I saw Captain Fletcher being escorted to the shore
by a body of officers and troops, followed by a storm of execrations
and hootings. He held his head proudly, and looked indifferent and
scornful. I knew not whether he were going to instant death, or what
had been decreed by the Duke; but as I pressed forward to look, and
strove to learn the truth from those who stood by, I chanced upon my
lord the Viscount, who was looking very grave and anxious.
"A bad omen, Dicon," he said as I rode up to him; "a bad beginning
when we turn our arms against one another. Nay, I know not where the
blame most lay. It was Dare's charger, but Fletcher had taken it in
the service of the Duke, the better to perform the duty intrusted to
him. It was not matter enough to cause the spilling of blood. And yet
it has lost us two of our best men. Dare lies weltering in his blood,
and Fletcher has been taken on board the frigate to save him from
the fury of the people. He will be carried to foreign shores by the
sailing-master, and we have lost the best officer we have amongst us."
I was distressed and grieved at the news, yet full of mine own plans
and projects too. I desired (as we do desire such things--I know not
why) to carry the news of this disaster to Taunton myself, albeit it
would be sorrowful tidings there, for Old Dare was greatly beloved and
respected; and my lord encouraged me to leave Lyme and return to my
uncle with the news. He sent messages to Mistress Mary, and trusted
soon to see her; but all through his discourse I felt that there ran
a thread of warning and disquietude. He cautioned me to avoid getting
myself too deeply implicated with the cause of the Duke, reminding me
that those were safest who stood aloof and took no open share in the
quarrel. I could well see that he himself had great doubts about the
triumphant march to London of which our mouths and hearts were full. He
had been driven himself by several goading motives to take up arms in
the Duke's cause, but he was wishful to warn others from following him
too blindly.
I rode away from Lyme thoughtfully enough; yet all I saw that day
tended to raise my spirits. From all parts men were pouring in to join
the Duke. I met them in companies of two or three, up to a dozen or
twenty, all bent upon the same errand, and hungry to gain news from one
who had seen the Duke and knew what was happening at Lyme. Then there
was another sign which gave me food for pleasant speculation: at many
cross-roads the authorities had posted constables to turn back the
people who should be faring forth in the direction of Lyme. But these
worthies were themselves all for the Duke; and though they stopped many
travellers and asked whither they were bound, and so forth, yet, so
soon as they heard, they wished them good journey, and so let them go,
and then laughed between themselves as though it were all an excellent
joke.
I made friends with many of these good fellows as I journeyed, and
heard from them how all the country was for the Duke; and indeed I
could make certain of this myself from the numbers of persons going to
join him, many of them being clad in the gay uniform of the militia.
My heart grew light as I journeyed, and by the time I had reached
Ilminster and my aunt's house there, I had forgotten all my doubts and
fears. She received me joyfully, and that evening and the next day I
was beset by eager men and women all agog to hear my tale, and ready to
dance for joy at hearing that the Duke would pass through their city
shortly, on his way to Taunton.
Already they began to hang their windows with bright stuffs, and the
town took quite a festive aspect before I left on Monday morning.
Children were scouring the fields and woods for green boughs to make
arches, and posies to crown staffs. It seemed to me that the Duke
had nothing but a triumphal march before him, unless indeed, as some
averred, the Duke of Albemarle was on the march eastward from Exeter
to try to intercept him before he reached the heart of the Western
loyalists.
One thing I must not omit to mention regarding my brief stay at my
aunt's house. Of course she had many questions to ask about the
Viscount, who had so won upon her a day or two before; and in speaking
of him, I could not but say that I feared he was not so hopeful as to
the success of the Duke as we were, and that I sometimes fancied he
himself looked forward to a death upon the scaffold. At that my aunt
looked very grave and troubled; yet both she and I saw that were the
Duke to be defeated, it was likely enough examples would be made of
the leaders and men of most mark and young Viscount Vere might be one
chosen to expiate his rebellious act (as it would then be termed) upon
the scaffold.
But such a thought filled us both with great dismay; for I loved the
Viscount with a love I cannot hope to express in words. And suddenly my
aunt rose and took a lighted taper, and said (it was now dark and late
at night, and all her household was abed, we having sat up talking long
after all others had gone),--
"Dicon, come with me. I will show thee a certain thing; and if the
day should come when it can serve thee or thy good lord the young
Viscount, remember--and I will not fail either him or thee!"
As I followed my aunt, in great curiosity as to what this speech could
mean, she led me up and up through the house into a great attic in the
roof, whither walking was difficult because of crossed timber beams and
chests stored with household goods; and suddenly stooping down in one
corner, she made a curious clicking sound--I could not see how--and
then, to my astonishment and momentary fear, seemed to sink into the
floor, for soon only her head was visible to me.
"Come quietly after me, Dicon," she said; and then I saw that she was
pushing herself down through a narrow aperture from which a rickety
ladder led somewhere below. Following her through this trap-door--for
such it must be, though cunningly hidden, as I saw afterwards--I
by-and-by found my hand taken by hers and myself conducted through such
strange narrow places as I had never been in before, till we came out
at last into a small but not incommodious chamber, where stood a bed
and a chair or two and a small table. And then I divined that I was
looking upon one of those secret hidden chambers that were ofttimes to
be found in ancient houses, contrived as places of safety for hunted
priests or monks or Lollards, as the case might be.
My aunt put her lantern on the table, and said in a low voice,--
"I will make provision for an inmate, lest the day go against us; and
if thou, Dicon, or the Viscount should come to trouble and be forced
to fly, fear not to come hither, and I will shelter you. For myself I
have no fears. I am a quiet woman, and take no part in great matters,
and all of my towns-folk think well of me. I shall not be disturbed.
But I will gladly give shelter to some hunted friend of the Duke's if
it be needed. Not a soul in the town knows aught of this chamber. I
trow I could keep any man safe for a month here, and none guess at his
presence."
I was too much resolved to see nothing but triumph for the Duke to
believe that we should ever need such shelter as this; yet I was
interested in the chamber, and thankful to my good aunt for her
kindness in thus promising me help for myself or my lord should it be
needed.
On Monday morning, the fifteenth day of June, I started off with the
first of the light to take to Taunton the news of the approach of the
Duke. A messenger had come in overnight to say that the Duke would be
leaving Lyme that morning, and unless delayed by any encounter with
the forces of the Duke of Albemarle, which were said to be advancing
towards Axminster, might be looked for at Ilminster perhaps by the
evening, or at any rate on Tuesday. So I felt there was no time to be
lost in getting to Taunton; and as Blackbird seemed of the same way of
thinking, and went his best and fleetest, it was only high noon before
we arrived at the outskirts of the town, to see in a moment that the
whole place was in a ferment of excitement.
Had I once allowed myself to be stopped and questioned, had it once
been known that I came from Lyme with tidings direct, I should never
have been suffered to pass on my way, so clamorous were all the people
after news. But as I was sure that this would be so, I kept my mouth
shut, and put Blackbird to a hand-gallop, never drawing rein till I had
him safe within the yard of the Three Cups itself.
At sound of the horse's feet my uncle came hurrying out, and almost
fell on my neck in his transport of joy.
"Ah, Dicon lad, how I have watched and longed for thee! Come in, come
in! I made sure some ill had befallen thee. Now tell me all--tell
me all! The whole place is full of rumours, and never heard I such
contrary tales. Our prisons are full of country yokels and farmers,
caught in the act of going to Lyme to join the forces of the Duke.
They tell us here that he will never reach Taunton; that the Duke of
Albemarle will meet and rout him ere the day be done. Tell me, boy,
what news dost thou bring? for faith I am half afraid to stir hand or
foot, lest I find myself in some horrible trouble."
Well, I told my story as plain as I could, neither making light of such
perils as I had heard of, nor yet failing to report how forward were
all the country folks in the cause of the Duke. My uncle listened, and
his face did not lose its look of perplexity; but after I had told my
tale, I was eager to know, on my side, what had happened at Taunton
during my absence, and my cousin Meg coming in and exclaiming at sight
of me, I quickly got from her the news, whilst my uncle went out to
confer with those of his friends who were still left in the town.
Meg told me that the public feeling was rising higher and higher for
the Duke, and that soon after I had left Sir Edward Phillips and
Colonel Lutterell had come in with several companies of soldiers to
keep the town quiet. But on Saturday the latter had marched away with
the most part of the troops to join the Duke of Albemarle at Chard or
Axminster, and strive to intercept the advance of the Duke, and cut to
pieces his army, thus quelling the rebellion at a blow.
Now this had been very grievous news for the people of Taunton, who
knew not whether their beloved Duke might not be forced to fly or ever
he had come to them as deliverer and saviour. The magistrates now had
charge of the town, and were holding the people in check from any sort
of rising, both by their authority and through the doubts entertained
of the result of the engagement between the forces of the two Dukes.
When I told Meg how many and great were the forces pouring in to the
Duke's standard, and how he was surrounded by so gallant a band of
officers and gentlemen, and how the militia were deserting to him from
every quarter, she took courage and heart again; and others coming
in to hear my news, also thought well of it, and ere nightfall a new
feeling had spread through the town, whilst whispers were abroad that
it would be an easy thing in the absence of the soldiers to make a
general rising, surprise the guard, overawe the magistrates, and seize
and hold Taunton for the Duke.
But as yet it was only a whisper, and no man dared to speak aloud of
such a thing. Order still prevailed, although I felt that the city was
like to the hot crust over the crater of a volcano, and that at any
moment a tongue of flame might spring forth, and the whole aspect be
changed to seething heat and violent eruption.
As I was sitting at table satisfying my hunger after so much talking,
and telling those who stood by of the death of Dare--a thing which
caused much grief and heart-burning in the minds of his townsmen--my
uncle came behind me and said that Lord Lonsdale had come in. After
hearing that I had been to Lyme, he had asked to have speech with me;
and I rose at once, and found him in the small parlour where guests of
the better sort were entertained.
Now although my Lord Lonsdale had not played the part of a good father
(in my humble opinion at least) to his son, and though he was known as
a determined enemy of the Duke, yet to me he had always shown himself
kind and gracious, and I was grieved to see the look of pain and
anxiety upon his handsome face.
"Dicon Snowe," he said, as I appeared, "it has been told me that thou
hast ridden scout for Taunton, and hast been as far as Lyme, and seen
the following of the Duke of Monmouth. Tell me truly, boy, hast thou
seen aught of my son? He has vanished no man knows where since the
first day of the month, and all that I can hear of him is that he was
seen riding south, as though he would make for the coast. I have been
consumed with fear lest the foolish boy has run himself into deadly
peril. Tell me, Dicon, hast thou seen him? and what was he doing?"
What could I say? I am a bad hand at lying even to my foes, and to lie
to one who had ever treated me well would have been a disgrace. I could
but tell my lord the truth--that his son the Viscount, goaded by fears
of being forced to wed a lady for whom he had no love, had broken the
yoke the best way he could, and so he had joined himself to the Duke,
his heart not being truly in the cause; and he was now doing all that
one man may do to drill the raw recruits, and make soldiers out of men
used only to the plough. Having so begun, he would, I was convinced,
see this matter through to the end; nor would any misfortune that
befell the Duke draw him from the standard, so long as that standard
floated over the plains of England.
Whilst I spoke in the finest words I could pick, my lord wrung his
hands together and lamented openly the folly of the "boy," as he called
him, the hot-headed rashness of youth, and the fearful peril into which
he had run himself through his reckless impatience. I was sorry for
the distracted father, who plainly feared his son's head would pay the
penalty; but my sympathies were all the while with the gallant young
Viscount. Nor did I think the cause lost, as the Earl plainly did,
although prudence caused me to be silent on that point, and to express
no opinion. My journey to Lyme was not thought to be an incriminating
thing. Even the Mayor, Mr. Smith, who came to see me and ask questions,
rather praised than blamed me for thus faring forth after news. I
think I sent that worthy away with a flea in his ear. For I spoke of
all the brave sights I had seen, and how joyful the cities were at
thought of the approach of the Duke; and I think he wished himself
anywhere but in charge of Taunton Town, with the citizens all in a
ferment, and the soldiers drawn off elsewhere.
But my day's work was not done until I had seen Mistress Mary and given
her her lover's messages; and so soon as I could shake myself free of
the crowds that kept coming to hear the news afresh, I stood at the
door of Miss Blake's parlour and sued for admittance.
I was welcomed almost with tears when it was known where I had been,
and both Mrs. Musgrave and Mistress Mary were summoned to hear my tale,
which did not grow less through repetition.
Oh how Mistress Mary's eyes did kindle and glow when I spoke to her of
the Viscount, and how he had joined himself to the Duke, and was in
command of a fine company of horse-soldiers under Earl Grey! If she
had never loved him before, I think she would have loved him then on
hearing what he had done, and knowing that for love of herself he had
thus thrown all else to the winds and joined the Duke's standard. As it
was, loving him heart and soul before, her heart could scarce hold all
the joy and gladness that my words aroused; and when I whispered in her
ears the messages with which I was charged, her beautiful eyes kindled
and flashed, and she clasped her hands together as though hardly
knowing how to keep back the words that sprang burning hot to her lips.
In this house there was no fear as to the result.
"God will fight for the right," said Miss Blake solemnly. "He will
succour the oppressed in the time of need, and will not suffer His
cause to be trampled in the dust."
Then she went out of the room for a brief time, and returned bearing
a great burden, which Mistress Mary hastened to help her to undo, and
before my dazzled eyes was then displayed the result of those weeks and
months of patient toil.
Twenty-seven banners, or colours, as it was the fashion to call them,
were spread out before my admiring gaze. The rich materials had been
provided by the secret gifts of many wealthy inhabitants of Taunton,
but the beautiful needlework had been done by Miss Blake's pupils
under her own eyes; and Mistress Mary's banner--the most beautiful and
the boldest of all, as I have said elsewhere--was her own work every
stitch, and she had purchased with her own money all the materials to
boot.
"When the King-Duke comes to his loyal city of Taunton," said Miss
Blake with pardonable pride, as she folded the colours once again and
laid them by in order, "a right royal welcome shall not be lacking him,
shall it, Mary my dear?"
And Mary's eyes kindled and glowed and her cheeks flushed as she
lightly passed her hands over the great raised letters J.R. worked upon
her banner, and looked up to answer,--
"Nay; and if they call Taunton the 'Queen of the West,' it is but right
that the Queen should be ready with royal honours for her King."
Well was it that such words as these were spoken with closed doors! Yet
methinks these women had such courage and devotion that they would have
spoken them aloud for all the world to hear had there been any cause.
After I had said good-night to these ladies, I found myself so tired
out with the labours and excitements of the day, that I must needs find
my way to my bed; and in spite of all the stir and tumult which reached
me from the street below, I slept well and soundly, unconscious of
what was passing, until daybreak on the following morning, when I was
awakened by such a noise and commotion as would have aroused even the
Seven Sleepers.
But the account of that memorable day and the rise of Taunton I must
keep for a fresh chapter.