Cuthbert stood at the door of the narrow house in Budge Row,
seeking speech of the wise woman.
It was a blustering night--the first night in November. The wind
howled and shrieked round the corners of the streets; the rain
pattered down and splashed the garments of the few pedestrians who
had braved the storm. It was but seven of the clock, yet Budge Row
was dark and quiet as though midnight had settled down upon the
city. Scarce any gleams of light filtered through the cracks in the
shutters, and only the sound of a distant watchman's cry broke the
silence of the night.
Cuthbert had once before sought this house, but had knocked in vain
for admittance. Either the wise woman was from home, or else she
had no intention of receiving visitors. Since then his mind had
been engrossed by other matters, and he had not thought again of
Joanna's charge concerning Esther. But recent mysterious
occurrences had made him desirous not only of telling her his own
tale, but of seeking information from her; and here he stood in the
wind and rain making request for admittance.
Softly and silently the door swung open at last, and he saw before
him the dark passage he had traversed a year before with Cherry,
the dim light from above just guiding his steps as he moved. The
same juggleries were repeated as on that occasion. The outer door
swung back and bolted itself behind him. The invisible light
wavered and flickered and showed him his way. The black cat
appeared ready to dispute his entrance into the room till he had
dropped his coin into the box; and when he entered the dim place
where the wise woman ensconced herself, he saw her as before,
seated behind the lamp which shed its light upon him, but left her
face in deep shadow. All was precisely as it had been upon a former
occasion--all but his reception by the wise woman herself.
That, however, was altogether different; for the moment she saw who
her visitor was, she rose suddenly from her chair and exclaimed in
excited tones:
"Cuthbert Trevlyn, why hast thou not come hither sooner?"
"I did, but could not find thee."
She made an impatient exclamation.
"And thou wert content not to find me, and came not again and yet
again! Foolish boy! Did not Joanna warn thee to seek me out and
tell me all? I know well that she did. She is loyal and true. And
so, boy, the lost treasure is found, and is safe beneath the roof
of that house which shelters the honoured heads of the Wyverns?"
"Yes, it is all there."
The old woman flung up her arms with a gesture of triumph.
"I knew it: I knew it I knew that the prophecy would fulfil itself,
for all Miriam's spite and Long Robin's greed. Boy, thou hast done
well, thou hast done very well. But thou hast been more bold than
secret. Thou art suspected. Miriam has been here. She is raging
like a lioness robbed of her whelps. She loved yon fierce man who
called himself Long Robin, yet was neither husband of hers, still
less her son, with a love more wild and fierce than thou wilt ever
understand. She vows that she will be revenged. She vows that the
Trevlyns shall yet smart. She suspects not thee alone, but all who
bear the name. Boy, boy, why didst thou not seek me earlier?"
Cuthbert made no response. He was looking in amaze at this old
woman, who had now come forth from her nook behind the table, and
was speaking to him without any assumption of prophetic power, but
as one anxious human creature to another. He saw in her a strange
likeness to old Miriam, and to the dark gipsy queen; but he
marvelled at the excitement she evinced, and the eager intensity of
her gaze. It was so different from her aspect when last he had seen
her, so much more natural and full of human concern and anxiety.
"I have looked for thee day by day. I said in my heart, surely thou
wouldst come quickly. And now, in lieu of seeking safety and
counsel, thou hast been running blindly into those very perils of
which I warned thee long ago. As if it were not enough to have
Tyrrel and all his crew, with old Miriam at their back, resolved to
hunt thee down and wrest the treasure from thee!"
Cuthbert started and looked intently at her.
"Miriam! Tyrrel! what can they know?"
"Miriam can piece together facts as well as I," answered Esther in
rapid tones; "and thou oughtest by this to know what power that
gives to those who possess the gift. In brief, I will tell thee
what I myself have learned from her and others. She missed Long
Robin, waited for his return till despair took the place of
expectation. She knew that one of two things had happened--either
that he had made off with the treasure, or that he had been done to
death in the forest by some secret foe. Burning with fear and fury,
she caused search to be made. The grave was found where the body
lay. Rage filled the hearts of all the tribe, for the strange old
man was venerated and feared, albeit he was not greatly beloved;
and as thou knowest, amongst our people an injury done to one is
avenged by all. Thou hadst been seen in the forest, seen moving to
and fro in mysterious fashion. Many had wondered what thy business
was, but none had interfered; for thou wast known to be under the
protection of Joanna, and the word of the queen is sacred. But now
that may serve no longer to protect thee. Miriam has declared aloud
that Robin was the keeper of the long-lost treasure, that he was
hoarding it up in some secret spot, ready to divide it amongst the
whole tribe when the moment should have come. In fervid words she
described the golden hoard--the hoard which I know well that evil
man meant to make all his own when the time came that he might
escape from the jealous watch kept upon him by Miriam. He was but
waiting for her death, which may not be far distant, since she is
subject to strange seizures of the heart which defy all our skill
in curing. Then would he have fled, and taken all the treasure with
him. He would have shared the spoil with none, as Miriam well
knows. But she is using her power and her half knowledge of the
secret for her own ends, and one of those ends is--"
The old woman paused, looking straight at Cuthbert, who regarded
her fixedly, and now asked in a low voice:
"Is what?"
"The destruction of the house of Trevlyn, root and branch."
A gleam of angry defiance shone in his eyes.
"Still that mad hatred? But why should we fear her? Let her do her
worst!"
Esther raised a warning hand.
"Peace, boy!" she said; "be not so full of recklessness and scorn.
Miriam is an adversary not to be despised. Miriam is sworn to the
task of vengeance upon thy house. She will not let this fresh deed
of thine pass without striving might and main to fulfil that
vengeance which thou hast now made void."
"Made void?"
"Ay, by the finding of the treasure. She is assured that this is
what thou hast done. She has persuaded Tyrrel and his band of it,
and all are resolved to find it for themselves. She is acting with
the craftiness of her nature. She has persuaded them that all the
Trevlyns are in the golden secret. Wherefore vengeance is not
directed against thee alone, but against all who bear thy name--Sir
Richard and his son, who are in this city now."
Cuthbert drew his brows together in a frown.
"They know naught of it," he said hastily.
"That may be; but they are Trevlyns, and that is enough for Miriam.
It is not the gold she covets; it is vengeance upon all who bear
that name. She stirs the avarice and cupidity of others, that they
may do the work she wishes done. And she works in other dark ways,
too. She has tools which few suspect, and she uses them for her own
ends without scruple. And thou, foolish boy, blind and self willed
as thou art, unheeding my warnings, hast played into her hands; and
now others as well as thyself may be brought into sore peril
through thine own foolhardy recklessness."
The old woman's eyes were gleaming brightly. They were fixed upon
Cuthbert with keen intensity. He felt himself change colour beneath
their glance, and he answered with some uneasiness:
"What hast thou to chide me with? Wherein have I been guilty of
recklessness that may be hurtful to others?"
"Did I not charge thee to beware the dark-flowing river; to avoid
the black cellar; to have no dealings with strange men; to have the
courage to say nay to what was asked of thee? Hast. thou avoided
these perils? No! thou hast been led on by thy reckless hardihood
and insensate curiosity. Hast thou said no to what has been asked
of thee! No! thou hast ever done the things required of thee,
making excuse to forget warnings and disobey those who have
counselled thee for thy good. And what has come of it? Verily, that
the name of Trevlyn has been whispered amongst the names of
traitors suspected of foul crimes, and that thine own kindred now
stand in dire peril from thine own defiant hardihood."
Cuthbert started and made a step forward.
"Woman, what meanest thou?" he asked with breathless eagerness. "I
understand not the meaning of thy words."
Esther continued to gaze at him with her bright keen eyes.
"Understandest thou not that there be on foot at this very moment a
vile plot for the destruction at one blow of the King, the nobles,
and the whole house of his Peers--a plot to blow them all into the
air at the moment of their assembly upon the fifth day of this
month?"
Cuthbert recoiled in horror. A sudden illumination came upon him.
He put together chance words dropped, expressions used, things he
had seen as well as what he had heard, and his face grew pale with
conflicting emotions and his extreme bewilderment.
"What?" he gasped; "is that what it means? Is that the hideous deed
to be done? Great Heavens protect us from such men, if it has come
to that!
"How knowest thou this thing?" he added, turning almost fiercely
upon the old woman, who was still regarding him steadily. "If it be
as thou sayest, sure such a fearful secret would be held sacred
from all."
Esther smiled her strange smile.
"Secrets known to many have a wondrous fashion of leaking out. And,
moreover, the wise woman has means thou knowest naught of for
learning the things concealed from the world. Cuthbert Trevlyn,
look back, search thy memory, and thou wilt surely know that I have
spoken naught but the truth. If thou art not one of them, thou
knowest their dark secrets; thou canst not deny it!"
Again he recoiled from her.
"I know their secrets! I one of them! Woman, dost thou believe this
vile thing of me?
"No, I believe it not. I know that thou hast but let thyself be led
into dire peril through that foolish, generous weakness of youth
and thy Trevlyn blood, against which I have warned thee--and warned
thee in vain. But dost thou think thou canst despise the warnings
of the wise woman and escape deadly peril? Cuthbert Trevlyn, listen
to me and heed me well. This thing is known--is known in high
places. The King and his counsellors have had intelligence thereof.
The deed of darkness will be frustrated, and heads will fall
beneath the axe of the executioner. Already whispers are going
abroad--already the guilty ones are watched and spied upon; and
with the guilty there are those suspected who know naught of this
vile deed. Shall I say more, or can thine own quick wits supply the
rest?"
Cuthbert had turned a little pale. His eyes were fixed upon this
woman's face.
"Tell me all," he said hoarsely. "What dost thou mean by these dark
sayings?"
"I mean," she answered, in clear low tones, "that there is peril
for Trevlyn in this thing. Thine own rashness, Miriam's spite and
quickness of wit to avail herself of every trifling matter that
passes, the presence in London of Sir Richard and his son at this
time, the old tradition surrounding the name of Trevlyn--all are
helping on the work; all are pointing in one direction. Rash boy,
thou hast been seen with Father Urban in the streets--a Jesuit, a
seminary priest, a man suspected of many plots and many daring acts
of courage and cunning. Thou art suspected to have been concerned
in his escape one dark and foggy night, when thou wert on the river
in thy wherry; and he must have been taken on board some such
craft. Thou hast been seen with others who are suspected of being
mixed up in this business. Thou hast appeared within the city walls
when they appeared; when they were absent thou wast absent
likewise. Thou wouldst not heed warnings when yet there was time;
thou must now take double heed to thy steps--"
"Thou spokest of Sir Richard and his son but now," cried Cuthbert,
interrupting hastily. "For myself, I must take the consequences of
my rashness. The fault is mine, and if harm comes to me I can bear
it; but if others have been imperilled through me, I should never
forgive myself. Tell me plainly if this has been so; keep me not in
suspense! How can one word be breathed against the loyalty of a man
faithful and true as Sir Richard, and a stanch Protestant to boot?"
The old woman shook her head meaningly.
"A man's character and reputation and life may too easily be
whispered away in these evil times. But listen to me, Cuthbert
Trevlyn, and all may yet be well. Thou hast been noted, spied upon,
observed. There be those who have seen thee in strange places and
strange company, and it behoves thee to look well to thyself. But
for thy kinsmen, methinks that no whisper regarding them has as yet
reached high quarters. As thou sayest, Sir Richard's loyalty is
known, and men will not easily believe such ill of him. Yet he were
best to be gone. Miriam is at work. Miriam has tools that even I
wot not of, and she hates the head of Trevlyn's house with a bitter
and undying hatred. Let but this thing be known--as known it will
be to all the world in a few more days--and she will leave no stone
unturned to overwhelm him in the ruin that must then fall upon so
many. Vengeance such as that would be dear to her heart. She would
weave her web right skilfully to entrap his unsuspecting steps.
Wherefore let him begone--let all who bear the name of Trevlyn
begone, and that right speedily. Flight will not be thought flight
now; for this thing is as yet a profound secret, and thou must not
breathe a word that I have spoken to thee abroad, else thou mayest
do harm of which thou little reckest. Let him go speedily; and go
thou likewise, and do not tarry. If thou wouldst undo the harm thy
rashness has well-nigh brought to thy kinsfolk, carry them this
warning, and make them listen."
"That will I do right speedily," answered Cuthbert, whose heart was
beating high with excitement and agitation. "Did harm befall them
through deed of mine, I should never forgive myself."
"Go then," answered Esther; "go, and be thou cautious and wary.
Remember thou hast many foes, and that the hour of peril darkens
over this land. Strange things will be heard and seen ere many days
have passed. Take heed that thou be far away from hence ere the day
of reckoning comes. Take heed that Miriam's vow of vengeance be not
accomplished, and that the house of Trevlyn be drawn into the
vortex!"
Cuthbert descended the stairs with uncertain steps, his mind in a
whirl of conflicting feelings. He believed that Esther was sincere
in her desire for the welfare of the house of Trevlyn. He trusted
her, and he saw that she had in some way or another become
possessed of information concerning himself of a very particular
and intimate kind. This being so, it was easy to believe that she
had discovered other matters of hidden import; and he was quite
disposed to give her credit for dealings in magic and charms which
should show her the things that were to be.
The horror of the knowledge of this plot was upon him as he went
forth into the streets and felt the keen air and the cold rain
dashing in his face. He could not doubt the truth of Esther's
words. All he had seen and heard tallied too well with it to leave
in his mind any room for doubt. A plot of some sort he had always
suspected--he would have been foolish indeed to have come to any
other conclusion; but a plot of such malignity and such diabolical
scope would never have presented itself to his mind. He found it
hard to believe that such a terrible thing could be menaced against
the King and the nobles of the land, many amongst whom must surely
be of the same faith as those conspirators who were plotting in the
dark.
And then the peril that menaced the Trevlyns--what of that?
Cuthbert remembered the looks bent upon him a few days back by the
men-at-arms in the Parliament House. He remembered the light of the
sentry flashing in his face as he turned away from the door in at
which the tall man they called Guido Fawkes had vanished but a few
moments before. He knew that he had been observed more than once
with some attention as he had stepped on board his wherry, or had
brought it up to the mooring place. Could it be that he was really
watched and suspected? It seemed like it, indeed. And what was more
serious still, his kinsmen were like to fall under suspicion
through his rash disregard of warnings.
For himself Cuthbert cared comparatively little--perhaps rather too
little--for he possessed a strong dash of his father's stubbornness
of disposition; and in him the Trevlyn courage was intermingled
with a good deal of absolute rashness and hardihood; but the
thought that Sir Richard and his family should suffer for his sake
was intolerable. That must at all cost be prevented. Surely he
could warn them and avert the danger.
As the youth walked rapidly westward through the miry streets, he
was revolving the situation rapidly in his mind, and at last he
reached a conclusion which he muttered aloud as he went.
"That will be the best: I will to mine uncle and Philip and tell
them that. It will make them hasten away at once; but I will not go
with them. If I am suspected I must not be seen with them, nor seem
to have dealings with them. If they leave town and I remain, none
will suspect that I have warned them and sent them forth. To fly
with them would at once raise such thoughts. Here must I remain,
and let myself be seen abroad, so will they the better escape
Miriam's evil intent. Sir Richard has friends at Court. Lord
Andover and others will speak for him if need be. I doubt me much,
he being quietly gone, whether any will dare to strive to bring his
name into disgrace. There be those to find who are the guilty ones.
Sure they may let the innocent go free. As for me, I will not flee.
I would fain see the end of this matter. And perchance I might even
warn Master Robert Catesby of the peril that hangs over his head.
Strange how so gentle and courteous a gentleman can sell himself to
a work of such devilish wickedness!"
Divided betwixt horror of the deed and pity for the conspirators
who had been practically discovered and frustrated in their evil
work, and who had doubtless persuaded themselves and been persuaded
by their ghostly advisers that it was an act of virtue and justice
and right, Cuthbert walked on, wondering more and more at the
strange vagaries of human conscience, and at the extraordinary self
delusion possible to the sons of the Romish faction.
It was long since he had decided definitely and of resolute
conviction to cast in his lot with those who held the Reformed
faith; but had he ever had any secret doubts and leanings towards
the faith in which he had been reared, the revelations of that
night would have proved enough for him. He knew--none better--that
this diabolic deed was planned and executed with the full consent,
approbation, and blessing of the Romanist priests, and might even
be known to the Pope himself. Sorrowful and indignant as Cuthbert
had often been for the persecuted Romanists, and keenly as his
sympathies would have been stirred had they risen in man-like
fashion to claim liberty of conscience and fight boldly for the
cause in which their hearts were bound up, he could regard a plot
like this with nothing but loathing and horror. He wondered that
men could be found willing to sell themselves to such iniquity. Yet
he knew, from what he had himself seen, that these were no mere
hirelings bought over with money to do this thing, but that they
were gentlemen, most of them of noble birth and large means, all of
them actuated by motives of devotion and religious enthusiasm; and
that they did not prize their own lives or regard them as in any
way precious, but would gladly offer them up so that this thing
might be accomplished.
Well, it was a mystery, and one that he could not fathom. He could
only feel thankful that no compulsion lay upon him to make known
what he had seen and heard. His word had been pledged to Catesby
and Father Urban, and how to have broken it he knew not. But there
was no call for him even to think of this. It was not he who had
discovered this strange plot. The knowledge of it was already with
the King and his ministers. The conspirators themselves were half
aware of this; Cuthbert well remembered the words of fear
concerning some letter spoken in the lonely garden at Lambeth but a
couple of days back.
How dared they, knowing so much, pursue their dark scheme? The
youth shuddered as he marvelled at them. Did they believe
themselves yet secure? What a fearful thing security such as that
might become! Cuthbert longed to warn them, yet feared to
intermeddle further in such a matter. And at least his first
business lay in the warning he must instantly convey to Sir
Richard, and that without revealing more of the truth than was
absolutely necessary. Cuthbert was worldly wise enough to be well
aware that the greatest protection his kinsmen could have against
suspicion was absolute ignorance of the matter of which they stood
suspected.
Sir Richard was absent when Cuthbert asked for him, but his son was
at home, and the visitor was ushered into a room where Philip and
Culverhouse were sitting together conversing by the glow of a
bright fire of sea coal.
He was made very welcome by his cousin, and quickly plunged into
the matter in hand.
"Philip," he said, "I have come to ask whether the business that
has brought you to town is yet accomplished."
"Yes, verily," answered Philip, surprised. "We came to talk of
Kate's rash marriage with Culverhouse there, and if it was such as
might safely be ignored. My Lord and Lady of Andover, however, had
adjudged that their son is too far pledged to draw back, and that
for the sake of the lady's honour and happiness they must be held
to be solemnly betrothed. Their punishment will be the long waiting
ere they may truly wed; but Culverhouse means to tell all his tale
in the ears of the Prince of Wales, and he holds that the kindly
youth will doubtless give him some post about his royal person that
may be a stepping stone to further wealth and advancement."
"My Lord Culverhouse need scarce do that," said Cuthbert, speaking
in short, abrupt sentences. "Let me tell my news in a few words.
The lost treasure of Trevlyn is found. It is hidden in the Cross
Way House, where Mistress Kate and my sister Petronella are at this
moment sheltering. It was thought the safest spot, for that the
gipsies and the robbers of the road alike think kindly of the
ladies of the Wyvern family, and hold their abode sacred--"
Cuthbert was at this moment arrested by a storm of questions and
eager exclamations, which he had some small trouble in answering or
setting aside. When he had so far satisfied his eager listeners as
to be able to take up the thread of what he was saying, he went on
in the same quick, abrupt fashion as before.
"I thought the treasure safe when I hid it there; but I have had a
warning this night from one who knows well the temper of the gipsy
folk. I hear that suspicion has been aroused in the tribe--that
there is a resolve abroad to win it back. There is a man called
Tyrrel, a notable highway robber, who has vowed to regain it for
himself and his men. If this be so, I fear me that even the
sanctuary of the Wyvern House will not suffice. In that house there
are but women and a few old men--servants, little able to withstand
a concerted attack. I have heard this news but tonight, and I have
come straight on to tell thee, Philip. If your business in London
be done, why shouldst not thou and thy father return forthwith
home, and abide awhile at the Cross Way House, to see what fares
there, and to protect the household should Tyrrel and his men
attack? Methinks that they may stand in need of the presence of
kinsmen at such a time as that. I hear that ill is meant by these
fierce men to all who bear the name of Trevlyn. Two of the women
within those doors bear that name; wherefore--"
But Cuthbert had no need to complete his sentence; both young men
had started at once to their feet.
"Kate in peril!" cried Culverhouse, between his shut teeth; "then
verily her husband must find his way to her side."
"Petronella at the Cross Way House, exposed to alarm and attack!"
cried Philip; "then must I be there to shelter and protect her."
"We will forth this very night!" cried Culverhouse. "I will to the
house and get ready my servants to accompany me."
"I will make all preparation here!" echoed Philip, "and only await
my father's return.
"Cuthbert, thinkest thou that they are in peril this very night?
Speak; tell us all!"
"I trow not," answered Cuthbert with some decision, knowing that
his object was well accomplished and that the Trevlyns would make
all speed to leave London, yet scarcely himself wishing them to
hurry off in the night like fugitives in fear for themselves. "I am
certain sure that no immediate peril hangs over them, or I should
have been more urgently warned. I would not have you hasten thus. I
trow it would more alarm the ladies to be aroused by you in the
middle of the night than to see you come riding thither later in
the day on the morrow. Surely it would be better to wait for day.
The night is black and tempestuous; it will be hard to find the
road. Tomorrow with the first of the sunlight you may well ride
forth."
Culverhouse and Philip both saw the soundness and reasonableness of
this counsel, and knew that their respective fathers would both
concur in this opinion, though their own impatience chafed at the
delay.
"And thou--what wilt thou do thyself, Cuthbert?" asked Philip;
"come with us to Cross Way House?"
Cuthbert hesitated a few moments, debating within himself what were
best. He had been warned on the one hand to flee the forest, on the
other to flee the city. If his mysterious gipsy friends were right,
for him there was peril in both places. But it certainly seemed to
him that his own presence and company would add to the perils of
his kinsmen; and his decision was speedily taken.
"I hope to join you there anon," he said; "but I have something set
my heart upon seeing this grand pageant when his Majesty shall open
his Parliament on the fifth. Methinks I will stay for that, and
then perchance I will forth to the Cross Way House."
He looked keenly at both his companions as he spoke, but neither
face wore the least look of any secret intelligence. He was certain
that no whisper of the plot had reached their ears.
"Ay, do so, and come and tell us all," said Culverhouse gaily. "I
had thought to be there myself, but I must to my Kate's side.
"Philip, thy father will be something loath to leave London ere
that day. Thinkest thou that thou canst persuade him?"
"I trow I can," answered Philip; and then they both turned on
Cuthbert, asking him for a more detailed account of his search
after and his discovery of the lost treasure, hanging with eager
interest on his words.
It was late ere he left their lodgings, and the family at the
bridge house had retired to rest. He found his way to his room; but
little sleep visited his eyes that night, and the fitful dreams
which came to him betwixt waking and sleeping seemed charged with
ominous warnings.
Sir Richard Trevlyn heard his son's story in great surprise, but he
hesitated not a moment as to the course of action they must pursue.
"I would it had been brought to Trevlyn Chase. We have a household
of men there, and could well defy these rogues of the road. But
Cross Way House has no such defences, and it is tenanted mainly by
helpless women, and we must lose no time in going to their
assistance. I have heard long since of this man--Tyrrel. He is a
notable outlaw, and there is a price upon his head. The forest will
be well freed of him if we can overthrow him. He has owed his
safety again and again to his reckless riding and the alliance and
good fellowship he has with the forest gipsies. It is time the
whole brood were smoked out from their hiding places. They want
destroying, root and branch!"
Sir Richard found it easier to remember that the treasure had been
stolen and hidden by the gipsy people than that it had been
restored partly through the assistance of the woman Joanna, the
queen. However, there was little time for further talk. The night
was already advanced, and on the morrow they were to make as early
a start as was practicable.
Sir Richard had not many servants of his own, but Culverhouse could
bring a good dozen men with him. Unluckily the storm raged all
through the earlier hours of the following day, and it was not till
noon that a start could be made. However, the seventeen miles' ride
could be easily made before dark, although the roads were deep in
mud, and travelling in the open country was both tedious and bad.
The last of the scattered hamlets had been passed. The sun glowed
red before them in an angry, lowering sky. Sir Richard and his son
and Lord Culverhouse paused on the brow of the ridge to look both
before and behind. They had in their impatience outridden their
servants, who, less well mounted, found some difficulty in spurring
along the deep mire of the ill-made roads. They could but just see
them on the horizon of the last ridge, coming onwards at an even
jog trot, which seemed the swiftest pace they aspired to.
Before lay the long waste of forest--trees and heather intermixed
in long stretches alternating one with the other. A good seven
miles lay between them and their destination, and the sun was
already nearing the horizon, and would soon dip behind it.
"We must push on something faster," said Culverhouse impatiently,
"if we are to reach Cross Way House before dark."
"We have already far outridden our men," said Sir Richard, frowning
slightly as he turned his head to look over his shoulder; "and this
is the worst part of the road before us."
"But we are well mounted and well armed," urged Culverhouse, "and
if we wait for the men we shall lose the rest of the daylight.
Surely if there be any footpads about, the fact that we are
followed by so goodly a train will serve to scare them away. And we
have no valuables upon our persons. They will get cold steel and
hot lead for their pains, an they venture to molest us, instead of
silver or gold."
"Very true," said Philip, who was as eager as his cousin and endued
with full share of Trevlyn courage and impetuosity; "we can never
wait till those sluggards have come up. The fault is not theirs:
they are not so well mounted as ourselves. We shall never keep our
horses to their pace, try we never so hard."
"Forward then, and let us ride as fast as our steeds can carry us!"
said Sir Richard with a smile; "for if we wait not for our men, the
daylight is our best friend. We are all familiar with the road, and
our horses likewise. Forward! and all eyes keep a sharp lookout to
left and right. At least we will not be set upon unawares."
Putting spurs to their horses very gladly, the younger men placed
themselves one on each side of Sir Richard, and the good horses
settled themselves to a steady hand gallop, which was the best and
surest pace for getting over those rough muddy roads.
Three miles had been safely traversed. Absolute solitude and
silence seemed to reign throughout the woodland tracks. But the
darkest of the forest still lay ahead of them, and the red ball of
the sun had just dipped behind the ridge in front.
"It will be dark beneath the trees," said Sir Richard; "have a
care, lads, how you ride.
"Philip, thine eyes are better than mine. Dost thou see aught there
to the right of the road, just beneath that great oak?"
Philip had seen already, and his answer was quickly spoken.
"They be horsemen," he said--"horsemen drawn up and, as it were,
awaiting us. I fear me we shall not pass without molestation. But
my counsel is not to pause, rather to gallop still on steadily, as
though we saw them not. But let us be ready; and if they dare to
molest us, let us with one accord discharge our pieces in their
faces. That will disconcert them for a moment, and we may perchance
outride them. We are but three miles and a half from Cross Way
House. I trow we can make shift to reach its friendly shelter; and
once there we shall be safe."
"It is useless to pause now," answered Sir Richard, who was always
cool and self possessed in moments of real peril. "Our men are a
mile behind, and to hesitate would be to lose all. A bold front is
our greatest safeguard. We are all well skilled in the use of arms.
Be watchful and vigilant, and make you sure that every shot and
every stroke will tell. We have need of all our strength, if we are
attacked. But they may let us pass unmolested; they may guess that
our followers are behind."
Culverhouse said nothing, but he set his teeth hard and his eyes
flashed ominously. He had never tasted real warfare before, and it
seemed to fire the blood in his veins and send it tingling through
his body. Each rider so shifted his carbine that it could be
readily used at a moment's notice.
And now they had reached the forest aisle. Their good horses, still
galloping freely and easily, bore them rapidly onwards. They had
almost reached that silent, motionless band awaiting them with
sinister quietude. In another moment they would have passed them,
when, on a sudden, a voice rang out clear and sharp through the
still air:
"Halt! stand! Stand, or we fire!"
"Ride on and fire!" said Sir Richard in calm tones; and the next
moment the echoes were awakened by three sharp reports of firearms
and by a yell--three yells--of human rage and pain. A roar of
execration and menace arose from twenty throats, and twenty blades
gleamed brightly in the gathering dusk. But already the riders had
passed the little band, sweeping by before they were well aware of
it. And as they did so, they heard a voice exclaim, sharpened by
rage and pain:
"It is they--it is our foes! I knew it--I knew it! Those are the
Trevlyn brood that we were warned would pass--the false sire and
his son and nephew. After them, my men! Let them not escape your
vengeance! Take them, or slay them, but let them not escape! They
have the treasure. We will have them. The vengeance of the gipsy
tribe shall be consummated! They shall not make it void. They shall
give life for life--blood for blood!"
"They shall! they shall! They shall not escape us. We will be
avenged, and the red gold shall be our reward!"
Sir Richard set his teeth as he heard these words, and dug his
spurs into the sides of his horse, causing the noble animal, who
seemed to share his master's knowledge of the deadly peril they
were in, to spring forward with redoubled speed.
"We must save ourselves by flight; they are six to one!" he said in
low tones to his companions, who kept pace for pace at his side.
"It will be a race for life; and if we are beaten, all we can do is
to sell our lives as dearly as may be. It is not robbery alone, it
is vengeance, the old grudge against the Trevlyns. But if we can
but make Cross Way House ere we are outridden, we may save
ourselves yet."