"He bargained with two ruffians strong,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take these children young,
And slay them in a wood.
"Away then went these pretty babes,
Rejoycing at that tide,
Rejoycing with a merry minde,
They should on cock-horse ride."
--_The Children in the Wood_.
Situated amid the wild and high moorlands, at whose feet hath stood for
ages the royal and ducal capital of the county palatine of Lancaster,
once rose a strong border defence called Raven Castle. Its site only
remains. This noble and castellated fortress now lies an almost
undistinguishable heap on the barren moor; the sheep browse above it,
and the herdsman makes his pillow where warriors and dames once met in
chivalric pomp, and the chieftain held his feudal and barbaric court.
The point on which it stood is nearly on the line of separation between
the counties of York and Lancaster. From the southern declivity of the
hill on the Yorkshire side springs one of the rills which fall into the
Hodder, a well-known stream, held in great respect by those ambulatory
gentlemen whose love of society and amusing recreations leads them to
lay in a stock of patience for life in the pursuit of piscatory
delights.
This mountainous tract forms part of the forest of Bowland, once ranged
by numerous herds of deer, and is still under the jurisdiction of a
master-forester, or bow-bearer, called _Parker_, which office has been
held for centuries by a family of that name.
It was in the broad and still moonlight of a spring morning, in the year
16--, that two horsemen were ascending by a steep and difficult pass
through the Trough of Bolland, along the hills and almost pathless wilds
of the forest. They were apparently of that dubious class called
"Knights of the Post,"--highway-men, deer-stealers, or cattle-harriers;
all and every of which occupations they occasionally followed.
As they passed by the edge of a steep ravine, from which hung a few
stunted oaks projecting over the gulf, the foremost rider--for the path
admitted them not abreast--turned sharply round on his saddle.
"Again!--Didst thou not see it, Michael?" inquired he, in great alarm.
"Nothing, Anthony, as I do follow thee in this honest trade;--nothing, I
tell thee, save thine ugly face in this clear moonshine. Prythee, make
more speed, and thou wilt have the fewer wry mouths to answer for. Thou
art fool enough to make a man forswear honesty, and rid him of his
conscience for life. Beshrew me! thou hast got a troublesome tenant;
either less roguery, or fewer qualms; depend on 't, thou canst not keep
friends with both."
"I'll go no farther. Old Hildebrand finds some foul business on his
hands, that he would fain thrust into our fingers. A bad business quits
best at the beginning; if once we get to the middle, we might as well go
on, or we may be like old Dick, who swam half-way through the mill-pond,
and then, being faint-hearted, swam back again."
"Look thee now, thou art a precious ass:--thou wouldst be a wit without
brains, and a rogue, ay, a very wicked and unconditional rogue, without
courage. Tut, that same cowardly rogue, of all unparalleled villains, is
verily the worst. Your liquorish cat, skulking and scared with a
windle-straw, is always the biggest thief, and has the cruellest paws,
for all her demure looks and her plausible condescensions."
"I don't care for thy jeers, Michael."
"What!--hast brought thy purpose to an anchor already? 'Tis well. I
shall on to Raven Castle with all speed, if it were only to inform one
Hildebrand Wentworth of this sudden qualm. Likewise I may, peradventure,
remember to tell him of another little qualm thou wast taken with, once
upon a time, at the sight of a score of his fat beeves; a little bit of
choice roguery played off upon him by honest Anthony of the tender
conscience! Look to it, comrade, he shall know of this before thou canst
convey thy cowardly carcase out of his clutches. An' it be thou goest
forward--mum!--backward! Ha! have I caught thee, my pretty bird?"
At the conclusion of this speech, with the malice of a fiend urging on
his hesitating victim to the commission of some loathed act of folly and
of crime, the speaker lashed on his companion's beast, and they were
soon past the steepest part of the ascent, on their way to Raven Castle.
Its present occupier, whom, it appears, they had befriended beforetime,
in the way of their several callings, had sent for them in haste,
requiring their aid, it might seem, in some business relative to their
profession.
For an hour or two they travelled on as fast as the nature of their
track would permit. Day was just brightening in the east, when, emerging
from a more than usually intricate path, they pushed through a thick
archway of boughs. Suddenly a bare knoll presented itself, sloping
towards a narrow rivulet; beyond, a dark and well-fortified mansion
stood before them,--here and there, a turret-shaped chamber, lifting its
mural crown above the rest, rose clear and erect against a glowing sky,
now rapidly displacing the grey hues of the morning. The narrow
battlements rose up, sharp and distinct, but black as their own grim
recesses, in solemn contrast with the bright and rolling masses from
behind, breaking into all the gorgeous tints that betoken a heavy and
lurid atmosphere.
They crossed a narrow bridge, and the clattering of their horses' hoofs
were soon heard in the courtyard of the castle.
"So, masters, if it had not pleased your betters to have built hostels
and roosting-places on the road, I might have been snug in my blanket
some hours ago may be."
The personage who thus accosted them was dressed in a plain leathern cap
and doublet, with a pair of stout hose that would not have disgraced a
burgher of the first magnitude; his short and frizzled beard was
curiously twirled and pointed, we may suppose after the fashion of those
regions; and his manner and appearance was that of some confidential
menial belonging to the establishment. His whole demeanour had in it an
air of impertinent authority; his little sharp eyes twinkled in all the
plenitude of power, and peered in the faces of the travellers as they
alighted to render him an unwilling salutation.
"We have made the best of our road, Master Geoffery, since we left our
quarters in Netherdale. But, in troth, it's a weary way, and a drouthy
one into the bargain: I have not wet even the tip of this poor beast's
nose since we started."
"Go to; an' the beasts be cared for, thine own muzzle may take its
chance of a swill. Willy, see to the horses. Now for business. Master
has been waiting for you these three hours: make what excuse you may.
Heigh-ho! my old skull will leak out my brains soon with these
upsittings."
Taking a small lamp from a recess, he commanded the strangers to follow.
A wide staircase led to the gallery, from whence a number of low doors
communicated with the chambers or dormitories. Entering a passage from
an obscure corner, they ascended a winding stair. The huge and terrific
spars of the intruders struck with a shrill clank on the narrow steps,
mingled with the grumblings of Master Geoffery Hardpiece; a continual
muttering was heard from the latter, by way of running accompaniment to
the directions which, ever and anon, he found it needful to set forth.
"There--an ass, a very ass!--keep thy face from the wall, I tell thee,
and lift up thy great leathern hoofs."
Then came another series of murmurings, mingled with confused and
rambling sentences.
"This stair is like old Giles's horn, it's long a-winding. Now,--thy
spurs, is it? Aroynt thee, knave, thou art like to frighten the children
with their clattering. They are up, and ready for their trip. Alice will
stitch a pillow to your pummels, and they'll ride bravely, the pretty
dears. Stop there, I tell ye; I'll just say that you wait his pleasure,
and return."
Old Hardpiece tapped gently at a small door; it was opened hastily; and
a few moments only elapsed ere Master Geoffery's cunning face was
cautiously extended out of the narrow opening. He beckoned to his
companions, and at once ushered them into a low chamber. A lamp, half
extinguished, stood on the floor; the walls were nearly bare, and
streaked in various colours by the moisture filtering from the roof; a
curiously-carved oak-table, and two or three stone benches comprised the
furniture of the apartment; a few rusty swords, with two large pistols
nearly falling from their holsters, hung from the wall. In one corner,
reposing in decayed dignity, were seen some halberds, with several
unmatched pairs of mildewed boots; near to the window, or rather
loop-hole, heaped up in dust and disorder, lay a score or two of rusty
helmets, their grim appurtenances mostly broken and disjointed.
Pacing to and fro in this audience-chamber appeared a figure of about
the middle size, attired in a loose open garment. His head was nearly
bald; a few thin locks only hung from the lower part of his poll; and
yet his age was not so far advanced as the scanty covering of his
forehead might seem to intimate. He paused not as they entered; but
during the greater part of the succeeding interview persevered in the
same restless and abrupt gait, as though repose were anguish, and it was
only by a continued change of position that he could soothe the rising
perturbation of his spirit.
"Is this your haste, when my commands are most urgent?"
He turned sharply upon them as he spoke: his eyes grew wild and keen;
but at times a heaviness and languor, as if from long watching, seemed
to oppress them.
"We could not"--Michael was stammering out an apology, when thus
interrupted:--
"Enough! I know what thou wouldst say. Let thy comrade remain below.
Geoffery, conduct him to the refectory; Michael abides here. Haste, and
let refreshments be prepared."
What was the purport of the conversation that ensued may be surmised
from the following history.
Old Hardpiece, grumbling the greater part of the way, led his companion
through a labyrinth of stairs and passages to a small room, where a huge
flagon of ale, with cold beef and other substantial articles for
breakfast, were about being displayed. Anthony, nothing loth, threw
aside his cap, and unbraced his girdle, for the more capacious disposal
of such savoury and delicious viands. A heavy pull at the tankard again
brought out Master Geoffery's deep-mouthed oratory. Anthony's tongue
grew more nimble as his appetite waxed less vigorous; he asked many
questions about the business which required their presence at Raven
Castle in such haste.
"The orphan children of Sir Henry Fairfax are to be conveyed to some
place of concealment for a short period. Master says he has had
intimation of a design on the part of the late Sir Henry's friends to
seize them perforce. Which act of violence Hildebrand Wentworth, being
left as their sole guardian, will make all haste to prevent."
"The children of the late Sir Harry Fairfax who was killed in the wars?"
inquired Anthony.
"Ay, ay. Poor things! since their mother drowned herself"----
Old Hardpiece here looked round, as though fearing some intrusion. He
continued in an undertone--
"Goody Shelton says she walks in the forest; and that her wraith so
frightened Humphrey's horse that it would not budge a straw's breadth,
just beside the great oak in the Broad Holm, before you get into the
forest on the other side towards Slaidburn."
Anthony was, at this precise moment, cramming the last visible remains
of a goose-pie into the same place where he had before deposited half
the good things on the table, anointing his beard with their savoury
outskirts,--when suddenly his chin dropped, his face assumed a sort of
neutral tinge, and his whole form appeared to grow stiff with terror. He
made several efforts to speak; but the following words only could be
distinguished:--
"I was sure it would be a ghost!"
"What!--a ghost!--Where!" anxiously inquired Geoffery.
"Just by the great oak in the Broad Holm, on the other side of the
forest."
"What was it like?"
"I cannot tell; and Michael pretended he did not see it!"
"Thou canst surely show the appearance it put on."
"Something, as it might be, like unto a woman, crossed our path twice,
and within a stone's throw. O Master Geoffery, we be dead men!"
Another groan here interrupted their discourse. Master Hardpiece
muttered some unintelligible prayers, putting on a face of great
solemnity. Several minutes elapsed, while the following exclamations
rapidly succeeded each other:--
"A ghost!--save us!--a very ghost! I'll not to Slaidburn again without
help. Another draught, Anthony; a stiffener to thy courage, mayhap. It's
now daylight, though," said he, looking through the casement, "and most
of us fear only what may be felt, in the day-time at any rate."
Anthony took the cup, and, apparently without being aware, drank off the
contents. He was much invigorated by the draught which seemed to invest
him with new courage; partly from the recollection that a long daylight
would intervene between the beginning and the end of his journey, and
partly because of the sudden rush of spirits to his brain. He arose, and
assuming a posture more erect, planted his cap in a becoming attitude,
whilst Geoffery was putting aside the empty vessels into a sort of
large wooden chalice, for the purpose of a more convenient removal.
Light footsteps were now heard bounding along the passage, and the door
was suddenly burst open by two rosy-cheeked children; the elder a boy of
some four or five years' growth, and his sister scarcely a twelvemonth
younger.
"Master Geoffery, Master Geoffery," lisped one laughing urchin, "hide
me; there is Alice--she'll not let me go. We are to ride on two great
horses; and I shall have a sword, and sister Julia a coach."
Here nurse Alice made her appearance. She had been weeping: tears and
entreaties were vain. She asked permission to accompany them; but with a
frown Hildebrand Wentworth had chidden her from his presence. Since the
loss of her mother, and almost from the time that news had arrived of
their father's death, which happened a little while before the birth of
Julia, she had borne a mother's part to her little charge; and had it
been allowed her, she would gladly have served them without reward.
Fearful of leaving them, she had followed hastily into the room. With a
searching glance she eyed the stranger for a while; then suddenly
turning to the children, she addressed them with great seriousness and
affection.
"Harry, you have not repeated your prayer this morning. Do you think God
will take care of you to-day, if you ask Him not?"
Here the rebuked boy grew silent; and with a suffused face, ran to his
nurse. Whilst in her lap, he poured out his morning orison. It was a
simple but affecting request. Julia knelt also; and Alice, laying a hand
on each, blessed the children.
"God of their fathers, I commit them to Thy care!"
She could say no more; loud sobs checked her utterance; but leaning over
these little ones, she convulsively clasped them in her embrace.
Old Hardpiece grew unusually busy about matters of no importance, and
the hard-featured trooper was seen to brush his brows, as though some
unpleasant suspicions had crossed his brain. He raised his arm as he
gazed on the children, muttering as he clenched his hand--
"If he dare!"--He then carelessly examined his sword, returning it
quickly into its sheath, as the weeping Alice drew away the children to
her own apartment. Old Geoffery now grew more talkative. Leaning his
chin upon his hand, and his elbow on the table, he thus proceeded:--
"It's four long years come St Barnabas since Sir Harry's death; and my
lady, rest her soul! went melancholy soon after. Everything was
bequeathed in trust to my master, Hildebrand Wentworth, a great friend
of Sir Harry's, and his secretary or purse-bearer, I forget which--no
matter--all the property, I say, was left in trust for Sir Harry's wife
and children. Hildebrand brought a will from Sir Harry to this effect,
and poor Lady Fairfax never looked up afterwards. She moped about, and
would see nobody, and then it was they said she was out of her wits. It
was not long before her head-gear and mantle were found by the
river-side just below the old bridge you crossed--but her body never."
Here the entrance of Michael cut short the old man's discourse.
"Belike thou hast not lacked a cup of warm sack, and a whey-posset with
my master in the west turret," scoffingly cried Master Geoffery. Michael
looked surly as he replied--
"Old Gabergeon, let us have a draught of thy best, a stirrup-cup.
Breakfast I have settled with above stairs."
"Marry take your swill, Mr Saucypate," tartly replied Geoffery. "And so,
because you have eaten and drunk with my master, it is 'old Gabergeon;'
else had it been good Master Hardpiece, or 'if you will, Master
Geoffery!' Out upon such carrion, say I, that think themselves live meat
when they are but fly-blown."
"Old Geoffery," said Michael, coolly, "we'll settle our rank at a more
convenient opportunity. Just now I'll thank thee for the flagon."
"It's in the cupboard," growled Hardpiece. "Verily these arms would
tingle. But I am old, and that same Michael but a sorry brute--no
beating would mend him. An ass of most vicious propensities; he will
bite forwards and kick backwards. Friends get the benefit of his teeth,
and foes the favour of his heels."
Thus did the old man console himself for the rudeness he could not
restrain. It was not long ere a summons hurried them to the courtyard.
They found their beasts equipped and ready to depart; Harry and Julia
looking joyously on, vastly diverted with the horses' accoutrements.
Hildebrand stood by the gateway, looking moody and anxious for their
departure; Alice, full of sorrow, attended with some refreshments which
were stowed into the wallet. The journey was but short, and an hour's
ride that fine morning, Michael said, would bring them to their
destination. Hildebrand forbade him to mention the place where he wished
to conceal the children, lest it should be known to their iniquitous
relatives. Each horseman, with a child mounted before him, slowly passed
the outer court, at the entrance of which Alice disappeared. The iron
tramp of the steeds rang shrilly from underneath the arched gateway;
Hildebrand stood by the platform; he bade them good speed. Anthony
passed first; Michael checked his horse for a moment, when Hildebrand
took the hand of the boy, and pressed it; but one portentous look, as at
the recognition of some sinister purpose, passed between Michael and the
old man, unobserved by his colleague. Hildebrand raised his hand above
his mouth, and slowly whispered--
"Remember!--the gulf underneath the waterfall."
The horsemen departed. Passing the bridge they were just rising over the
green slope when the children recognised Alice upon her mistress's
palfrey. They screamed out loudly to her; but she was riding in a
contrary direction, and soon passed out of their sight.
The narrow glades of the forest suddenly encompassed them. The morning
was pretty far advanced; the merry birds twittered in their dun covert,
brushing the dewdrops from the boughs with their restless wings. The
thrush and blackbird poured forth a more melancholy note; whilst the
timid rabbit, scared from his morning's meal, rushed by and sought his
burrow. The wood grew thicker, and the sunbeams that shot previously in
broad slopes across their path soon became as lines of intensely-chequered
light piercing the grim shadows beneath. The trees, too, put on a more
sombre character; and the sward appeared choked with rank and noxious
weeds. It seemed a path rarely trod, and only to be recognised by
occasional openings through the underwood.
They travelled for some hours. Michael had taken the lead, and Anthony
with his prattling charge rode carelessly on. Looking round, the latter
suddenly checked his horse. A momentary alarm overspread his features as
he cried--
"Michael, you have surely mistaken the path: an hour's ride should have
brought us to the end of our journey, and our beasts have been footing
it on since morning."
"Heed not, comrade; thou wilt soon find we have the right track before
us. We shall be through the wood presently."
"Why, this is the road to Ingleton, if I mistake not; I hear the roar of
the Greta."
"Right--we shall be on our road to the old castle shortly."
They travelled on more silently than before, until the brawling of the
torrent they had heard for some time increased with rapid intensity. The
road now widening, Anthony spurred on his beast by the side of his
companion, who slackened his pace to afford an opportunity for further
parley.
"Whither are we bound?" inquired Anthony.
"Where the children will be well cared for."
A dubious expression of countenance, which Anthony but too well
understood, accompanied these words; and villain was expressed by
indications too unequivocal to be easily mistaken through every change
and inflection of his visage. Anthony, though not of the most unsullied
reputation, and probably habituated to crimes at which humanity might
shudder, pressed the little victim closer to his breast. The prattle of
the babe had won his heart: and the morning scene with Alice had
softened his spirit so that he could have wept when he thought of the
remorseless nature of his comrade, to whose care the children were
entrusted.
The roar of the torrent grew louder. Suddenly they entered upon a sort
of irregular amphitheatre--woods rising above each other to the very
summit of the hills by which they were surrounded. A swollen waterfall
was visible, below which a bare and flattened trunk, whose boughs had
apparently been but just lopped, was thrown across the torrent. A ruined
keep or donjon was seen above a line of dark firs, crowning the summit
of a steep crag that rose abruptly from the river.
"This is our halfway-house," said Michael, pointing to the grim
fortress: "the children are tired, and have need of refreshment. Tarry
here with the horses whilst I carry them over the bridge."
"We have refreshments in the wallet--what need we to loiter yonder?"
replied Anthony, eyeing the other with an expression of distrust.
"The children want rest," said Michael, "and we shall there find
shelter from the heat."
"If rest be needful," was the reply, "surely this dry sward and these
overhanging leaves will afford both rest and shelter."
"The children are in my keeping," said Michael, fiercely, "and I am not
to account with thee for my proceedings. Alight, and give me the child."
"I will not!--Michael, I have watched thee, and I know that thou art a
villain. Ay, draw, I have weapons too, comrade."
Fast and furious grew the combat, during which the terrified children
made the woods echo with their shrieks. The result was not long
doubtful. Michael soon proved himself the better swordsman; and his
antagonist, stumbling from fatigue, broke his own weapon in the fall.
Defenceless and exposed, the uplifted sword of his adversary was raised
for his destruction, when suddenly the arm of the ruffian was arrested,
the weapon snatched from his grasp, and a female figure habited in a
dark and coarse vestment stood between the combatants. Her brow was
bare, and her dark full eye beamed on them with a look of pity and of
anger. Her naturally pale cheek was flushed; but it betrayed not the
agitation she endured. Erect and unbending she stood before them, and
the quailing miscreant crouched at her feet.
"Away to thy master!--thy blood, too worthless even for thine own
steel"----
She hurled away the weapon as she spoke.
Burning with revenge at his late defeat, Anthony flew after the falling
brand: seizing it, he renewed the attack. Michael fled towards the
bridge. With the bound of a bereaved tiger Anthony sprung upon his prey.
Just where the root of the trunk rested on the bank they closed, after a
desperate lunge parried by the unprotected arm of Michael. It was
disabled--but he still clung to his enemy. Anthony strove to disengage
himself; but the other, aware that life or death depended on the issue
of that struggle, hung on him with a convulsive tightness that rendered
the advantage he had gained of no avail. The sword was useless. Anthony
threw it into the boiling gulf at his feet. Both hands being now free,
whilst one arm of his opponent hung powerless and bleeding at his side,
he had greatly the advantage. He wrenched the other arm of Michael from
its hold, lifted him from his narrow footing-place, and with a malignant
shout of triumph shook him over the abyss. One startling plunge, and the
wretch sank in the rolling waters. An agonising yell, and but one,
escaped him, as he hung quivering over that yawning portal to eternity;
the next cry was choked by the seethe of the boiling foam. The waves
whirled him round for a moment like some huge leviathan tossing its
prey. He sank into its gorge, and the insatiate gulf swallowed him up
for ever. Anthony drew back. He turned from the horrid scene, with some
yet lingering tokens of compunction, in the expectation of rejoining his
companions; but in vain--the babes and his deliverer had disappeared!
Hildebrand Wentworth had passed the remainder of that day in his own
chamber. It was a dark lone room, leading out of the turret we have
before described. Often had he ascended the narrow stair communicating
with the parapet, and often had he watched the dark woods beneath the
distant mountain. It was the road taken by his guilty emissaries; and,
whether on the look-out for signals or for their return, he repeated his
visits until the blue mists were gathering on the horizon, and
day--another day!--had passed into the bosom of eternity. It was an hour
of holiness and peace, but heavy and disturbed was the current of his
thoughts. He sat near a projecting angle of the turret, his head bent
over the parapet. A female voice was heard beneath, chanting
monotonously a low and melancholy psalm. Soon the following words were
distinguished:--
"Dark as the bounding waters
When storm clouds o'er them roll,
The face of Zion's daughters
Reveals the troubled soul."
Hildebrand drew his breath, as if labouring under some violent emotion.
His whole frame was agitated. His lip grew pale as she went on with a
voice of exultation--
"But joy is sown in sadness,
And hope with anxious fears;
Yon clouds shall break in gladness.
And doubts dissolve in tears."
Fiends increase their torments at the sight of heaven! Hildebrand threw
back his cloak,--with one clenched hand he struck his forehead, and with
a loud groan he rushed from the spot. He sought rest in the gloom and
solitude of his chamber; but hours passed on, during which the
conscience-stricken culprit endured the horrors of accumulated guilt.
Sometimes he opened the casement, gazing on the dark heavens, until he
thought they were peopled, and he held converse with unseen and terrible
things. Inarticulate murmurs broke from his lips. A few words might
occasionally be distinguished--"Murder!--An old man too--The
children--they are at rest!" A gleam of pleasure passed over his haggard
features.
"I am now"--looking round--"now master of all."
"All?" breathed a low voice in the chamber.
The cringing wretch was speechless. Sense almost forsook him: horror
fastened on his spirit, while he turned his eyes, as if by some
resistless constraint, towards the place from whence the voice had
issued. Near his couch was a curiously-wrought cabinet inlaid with ivory
and gems of the most costly workmanship. An heir-loom of the house, it
was highly valued, and tradition reports that it was one of those spoils
on which our forefathers cast a longing glance in the wars of the Holy
Sepulchre. Be this as it may, every document of value connected with the
family was here deposited. By virtue of the power given to him from the
dying Sir Henry, though ostensibly for the benefit of his lady and her
infant offspring, Hildebrand guarded the trust with a jealous eye. No
one had access to it but himself, nor did he permit any other person
than old Geoffery, the house-steward, to visit his chamber.
Before this cabinet stood a figure enveloped in a dark robe. Pale,
deadly pale, were the features, though scarcely discernible in their
form and outline. The lamp burnt dimly; but with the quickened
apprehension of guilt he recognised the wan resemblance of Lady Fairfax!
A cry of exhausted anguish escaped him, and he fell senseless on the
floor.
Morning had risen, casting its bright and cheerful rays into the
chamber, ere Hildebrand Wentworth awoke. Consciousness but slowly
returned, and the events of the preceding hours came like shadows upon
his soul. He stamped thrice, and immediately the vapid countenance of
Geoffery Hardpiece was before him.
"Come hither, Hardpiece. I am wondrous heavy and ill at ease."
"Why, master, your bed has not been disturbed these two nights.--How
should there be anything but an aching head, and complaining bones,
when"----
Hildebrand cast a hasty and confused glance towards the couch as he
replied--
"I have matters of moment just now that weigh heavily on my spirit. I
cannot"----