The night was dark but fine; and innumerable stars spangled the sky,
as four men stood on watch by the side of a large old barn, within
sight of a farm-house. Although a human habitation was there, the
place had a desolate and solitary aspect. There was the farm-stead,
with its ricks and stacks, it is true, showing that industry was at
work; but not another house was to be seen around except that yeoman's
dwelling; not a labourer's cottage even; and the ground immediately
around was uncultivated, and presented no homely and comfortable
hedge-rows, no protection from the bleak winds which swept over the
adjacent downs. Immediately round about the house, the ground, sloping
hither and thither, was covered with short turf upon a sandy soil,
which appeared in many a yellow patch and broken bank; and between two
of the latter ran a good broad road, heavy to travel through with wain
or cart. At the edge of this road, and not more than twenty or thirty
yards from it, was the large, shapeless barn I have mentioned, the
boarding broken off in several places, and the tiling in a very
shattered condition. Between it and the road, upon the bank, which was
not above three feet high, were seated the men, who, as I have stated,
were placed on watch there; and it was evident that they listened from
time to time, for distant sounds, breaking off their low-toned
conversation, and bending an attentive ear at the word 'Hush!'
"They can't have got there yet, William," said one of them. "Remember,
it is more than three miles."
"Ay, but they will go it quick," answered the other.
"That was at the first starting," replied the first. "Their march will
be slower after a while. It is your impatience calculates your time
and not your wit."
"I would rather be at work with them there," said another, "than
lagging here, doing nothing."
"We have a post of more importance, and perhaps of more danger too,"
rejoined the second speaker. "The success of the whole may depend upon
us. Hark! there is a footstep! Perhaps it is the soldiers they talked
of. Now, jump down and stand to your arms, my lads. Remember--you,
William, carry the intelligence at the first sight of them, while we
hold them in parley as long as possible." And as he spoke, he jumped
down into the road, first snatching up a musket that lay by his side.
Whoever or whatever it was they expected, only a single figure
appeared, and as it came up the sandy path towards them, a voice
shouted, "Stand! Give the word!"
"Justice," replied the clear, full voice of Mr. Dudley; and as he
spoke, he continued to advance direct towards the men who barred the
road.
"That's the word, sure enough," said one of them in a low tone; "but
he has got no arms, and does not look like our people."
"I dare say he is one of Sir Arthur's men," replied another; and after
a momentary hesitation, they made way to let him pass. Dudley,
however, paused in the midst of them, inquiring, in a familiar tone,
"Which way have they taken?" and after hearing the reply of "Straight
on; you cannot miss it," he walked forward at the same rapid pace
which had brought him thither.
For a little more than two miles farther, no sound nor sight indicated
that he was approaching the scene of any important event. The road was
varied, sometimes passing over a part of the bare downs, sometimes
gliding in between little copses and hedge-rows, sometimes crossing
over a shoulder of the hill, sometimes skirting its base. At length,
however, a distant roar was heard, as of a multitude of human beings
talking tumultuously; and coming out of the little valley, through
which passed the byeway he was pursuing, a strange and not
unpicturesque scene burst upon his eyes. He was now at the foot of the
steep ascent which led up to the old gates of the small town of
Barhampton; and the decayed walls, with their flanking towers, were
seen crowning the rise, at the distance of somewhat more than a
quarter of a mile. I have said that they were seen, though the night
was very dark, and the moon had not yet risen; but it was by a less
mellow and peaceful light than that of the fair planet that the
crumbling fortifications were displayed. More than a hundred links
were blazing with their red and smoky glare around the gate and
beneath the walls; and a sea of human beings, moving to and fro, some
on horseback and some on foot, was shown by the same fitful flames,
with strange effects of light and shade, varying over them every
moment as the groups themselves changed their forms, or the links were
carried from place to place. At the same time, a dull, murmuring,
subdued roar was heard, strong but not loud, as of many persons
speaking eagerly; and every now and then a voice rose in a shout above
the rest, as if giving directions or commands.
Without pausing even an instant to gaze upon the scene, however
strange and interesting, Dudley hurried on up the ascent, sometimes
running, sometimes walking, till he reached the outskirts of the mob,
where a number of the less zealous and energetic were standing idly
by, some with arms in their hands of various kinds and sorts: muskets,
fowling-pieces, pikes, swords, scythes set upright upon poles; pistols
and daggers, or large knives; some totally unarmed, like himself, or
furnished merely with a bludgeon. In advance was the denser part of
the crowd: agitated, vociferous, swaying hither and thither, and
seeming to attend but little to the commands which were shouted from
time to time by several persons on horseback. The confusion was
indescribable, and little could be seen of what was going on in front,
though the light of the torches caught strong on one or two of the
banners, bearing inscriptions in gilt letters, and upon the figures of
the horsemen, who were raised above the crowd on foot. Towards one of
these Mr. Dudley strove to force his way; but it was with difficulty
that he gained, every moment or two, a step in advance, till at length
he came suddenly, in the midst of the densest mass of the people, upon
a brass six-pounder, of somewhat antique form, with the two horses
which had drawn it up the hill. There seemed to be another a little in
advance; but seeing the space somewhat clear on the other side of the
gun, Dudley leaped over it, and hurried on more freely towards the
figure upon which his eyes had been fixed, and which he recognised at
once, though some attempt had been made to disguise the person. As he
was passing the other field-piece, however, a man of foreign
appearance, with a large pair of mustachios, stopped him rudely,
telling him in French to keep back.
Dudley replied in the same language, "I must pass, sir. I wish to
speak with that gentleman;" and, at the same time, he thrust aside the
other, who was much less powerful than himself, and was approaching
Sir Arthur Adelon, when suddenly a broad blaze broke up just under the
arch of the old gateway, and a loud voice exclaimed, "That will soon
burn them down."
The crowd recoiled a little, and Dudley for a moment caught sight of a
huge pile of dry bushes which had been placed against the old gates,
and lighted by some gunpowder. The next instant he was by Sir Arthur's
side, and then for the first time saw, a little in advance of the
baronet, the lawyer Norries, apparently acting as the leader of the
multitude, and at that moment giving directions for bringing round the
muzzles of the field-pieces to bear upon the gates as soon as they
should be destroyed by the flames.
The tumult and uproar were so great that Sir Arthur neither saw nor
heard Dudley, till the latter had spoken to him three times, and then,
when he turned his eyes upon him, he started, and became very pale.
"Sir Arthur, listen to me for a moment," said Dudley; "bend down your
head, and hear what I have to say."
The baronet, seemingly by an involuntary movement, did as he was
required; and Dudley continued, in a low voice, saying, "Take the
first opportunity of turning your horse and riding away; and be
sure----"
"Impossible, sir, impossible!" answered Sir Arthur, in the same tone.
"And be sure," continued Dudley, without heeding his reply, "that if
you do not, you will have bitter cause to regret it. Listen to me yet
one moment, sir, before you answer."
"There is a part of the gate down!" cried the loud voice of Norries.
"Bring these cannon round quicker. Have you lost your hands and arms?"
"Sir Arthur Adelon," continued Dudley, earnestly, "I was asked a
question by those who sent me, and to it I gave a willing reply. In
accordance with that reply I was directed to say to you, I have heard
that some papers will be given up to me in a few days affecting
questions long past; but I say at once, I wish all those gone-by
affairs to be buried in oblivion, and if you will retire at once from
this scene of treasonable violence, I give you my word that when those
papers are given to me, I will destroy them without looking at them."
"Then he has betrayed me!" murmured Sir Arthur, with a furious look
towards Norries; "he has forced me forward into these deeds, and then
betrayed me. But it is too late," he added, aloud, for the preceding
words, though they were caught by Dudley, had been uttered in a very
low tone. "I know not what you speak of, sir. If you have come here to
put forth enigmas, I am too busy to unriddle them. It matters not to
me whether you look at papers or not. That is all your own affair."
And breaking off abruptly, he again gazed gloomily at Norries, and
muttered something between his teeth, of which Dudley only heard the
word, "Revenge."
There were two holsters at his saddle-bow, such as are commonly used
in some of our volunteer regiments of cavalry; and as he spoke, Sir
Arthur Adelon put his right hand to one of them, while he turned his
horse with the other. But Dudley grasped his bridle rein, saying, "One
word more, Sir Arthur, and then I must go. You are in great danger,"
he added, in a lower voice. "Not only are there troops within the
town, but in five minutes you will have the yeomanry upon you. So much
have I learned this day. Be advised for your own sake, for the sake of
your family. Turn your horse, disentangle yourself from the crowd, and
make the best of your way back to Brandon."
Sir Arthur gazed at him with a look of stupified astonishment; but ere
he could answer, a voice shouted, "The gate's down!--the gate's down!"
And immediately a rush forward took place, beginning with those
behind, who heard the announcement without seeing what was going on in
front.
"Orderly, orderly!" cried Norries; "let the guns advance first." But
as he spoke, there was a loud ringing peal of musketry from the inner
side of the gateway, and then a straggling shot or two. A man amongst
the rioters dropped; another staggered, pressing his hand upon his
side, and fell; and the horse which Norries was riding reared high,
and then came thundering down.
At the same instant there came the sound of a wild "Hurrah!" from the
side of the hill to the left, together with that of galloping horse.
Another volley of shot rang from behind the gateway of the town; and
then, with a cheer, a small but compact body of infantry advanced at
the charge with fixed bayonets from within the walls. Two more of the
rioters had fallen by the second discharge; the cry spread amongst
them that the cavalry were upon them; those at the extreme verge of
the crowd began to run; the centre remained firm for a moment, more
from indecision than courage; but the next instant, panic seized all,
and one general scene of flight and confusion followed.
Dudley caught one more glance of Sir Arthur Adelon, but it was only to
see that he was spurring the fine horse he rode fiercely along the
slope towards the other side from that which now presented the
advancing line of a well-disciplined body of yeomanry cavalry.
It was now time that Dudley should think of his own safety. He was in
the midst of a body of rioters, whose acts amounted to treason, though
a more lenient construction was afterwards put upon them, under the
merciful influence of modern civilisation. With quick step, then, but
not at a run, he turned somewhat in the direction which had been taken
by Sir Arthur Adelon, skirted round the town to the westward, and when
he had got in amongst some houses which had been built beyond the
walls, turned back, as if coming towards the scene of affray.
The great mass of the people had fled down the hill towards the
villages and copses in the interior; and it must be said that the
yeomanry, inexperienced in such proceedings, made but few prisoners,
considering the number of people present at the attack upon the town.
A confused noise, however, reached Dudley's ears, of galloping horse,
and shouts and cries; but, keeping away to the right, he avoided the
spot where the pursuit was going on, and at the same time endeavoured
to regain the road which led towards Brandon. He was some time in
finding it, and even when actually upon it, did not feel sure that he
was right, till he perceived, after having gone on for a quarter of a
mile, a tall finger-post, of a peculiar form, which he had remarked as
he passed before.
The road was quite solitary, although he thought he heard steps
running on fast before him; and no one did Dudley meet with during the
whole weary seven miles he had still to walk before he reached the
gates of Brandon Park. Sad and gloomy were the thoughts which kept him
company by the way from that scene of mad violence. He reflected upon
the fate of the misled men who had fallen or been taken; and with
still more sorrowful feelings he thought of the future condition of
the widow, the orphans, the parents of the dead, and all that were
connected with or dependent upon the prisoners. But it is with his own
fate I have to do, and not with his mere meditations, and therefore I
will conduct him at once past the old barn and lonely farm-house,
which marked about half the distance, and bring him to the gates of
the park. The moon was by this time rising, but the light of a candle
was in the lodge, and the small door leading into the park, at the
side of the greater ones, was open. Dudley passed through, and
advanced up the avenue towards the house; but he had not proceeded two
hundred yards, when two men started out upon him from behind the
trees, and seized him by the shoulder.
"Mr. Edward Dudley," said one, "I apprehend you in the Queen's name.
Here is the warrant."
"Upon what charge?" demanded Dudley, without making any resistance.
"Why, it may be murder; it may be manslaughter," replied the
constable; "that remains to be seen. You must come to the lodge for
to-night, sir; for I am ordered to keep you there in safe custody, in
the little room with the round window at the back."