The Yeoman Adventurer Page 5

  CHAPTER V

  THE ANCIENT HIGH HOUSE

  I had found Mistress Tonks in her little back room, where shemanufactured marry-me-quick by day and slept by night. Her cottagecontained only one other room, serving as shop and living room, andfronting on a narrow lane which turned abruptly from the main street atthe bridge-end to follow the curve of the walls. By the time I returnedwith Mistress Waynflete she had shuttered the window of the shop, snuffedthe candles, and stirred the fire into a blaze.

  Marry-me-quick was an ancient, wizened, little woman, so small that shehardly escaped being a dwarf, humpbacked, and inexpressibly ugly. In timesnot so long gone by she would assuredly have burned as a witch, and manysupposed her to be in league with the evil one. But in actual fact she wasa cheery, voluble, and warm-hearted little body, and one on whom I couldrely to serve us in this pinch.

  "Mistress Tonks," I said, "I want you to shelter this lady for the night."

  "To be sure," chirped the little woman. "Luckily I've kept the sojersoff. Every house in the town is full of 'em, and the Mayor's at his wits'end to know how to stuff 'em all in. I should think a score of 'em havecome here, in ones, and twos, and threes; and when I stood bold up to themand said, 'Do you want any marry-me-quick?' they were off like scaredrabbits. A great, sweet lady like you wouldn't think it, of course, butit's a godsend at times for a lone woman when she's ugly enough to turncream sour, and somedeal crooked o' the body into the bargain."

  "I shall certainly desire some marry-me-quick," said Mistress Waynflete,deftly evading the awkward conclusion of this speech, "for Master Wheatmanhas described it in terms that make my mouth water. And though you do notwant to billet soldiers, you will, I know, befriend a soldier's daughter."

  "I should befriend the devil's dam, asking your ladyship's pardon, ifMaster Wheatman brought her here. I'm a little, lone, ugly woman, butMaster Noll always stood by me. The lads, drat 'em, were for ever pinchingMaster Dobson's bull's-eyes and gingerbread, and him mayor of the town,though he's got lots grander than that since, but they never pinched anymarry-me-quick, not in Master Noll's time. But he's gone now, and I'm notas nimble as I used to be. Jesus help me, how he had used to fight! Heused to put my heart in my mouth, coming in here all blood and muck towash himself afore he went home. But take your things off and makeyourself at home."

  "I'm afraid you'll hear a too full and too true account of me, madam,while I am away," said I. "Soldiers are likely to call, but you can leaveMistress Tonks to deal with them. Still, please discard your own jacketand hat, and wear mother's domino. It's homely and country-like, and youmust pull the hood over your head, since, if your hair has been described,and any soldier who calls has heard of it, he will have to be blind not tonotice it."

  "Yes, it's dreadful stuff," she said, with amusing meekness.

  "So dreadful, madam," said I soberly, "that all England cannot match it.Therefore you must hide it, lest it should shock some poor soldier whocomes seeking a billet and finds it."

  She took off her hat, preparing to do what I asked, and the wondrousyellow hair, coils upon coils of it, was revealed. "Jesus help me," saidlittle Marry-me-quick in a hushed voice, "the back of her head looks likea harvest moon. If the same God that made her ladyship made me, we shallbegin life in heaven with a row, that's all I've got to say."

  I smiled at the quaint conceit of the little woman, which lost itsirreverence towards God in its reverence for His handiwork. "Now motherTonks," said I, "I leave this lady in your charge for a time while I gointo the town to see Master Dobson. I may be away some time, and you'llget us some supper. Anything you have will do."

  "Anything I have?" she echoed scornfully. "I've got one of them rabbitsyou sent me last market day by that lozzicking Joe Braggs, but he's a goodgorby is Joe"--here her voice softened, and madam smiled agreement--"andthis frost has kept it as sweet as a nut. If you're not too hungry towait, I'll make you some rabbit-stew."

  "Rabbit-stew? I'll wait for that, and I'm sure Mistress Waynflete will,"said I.

  "I'll live on marry-me-quick in the meantime," she replied, laughing.

  "I leave you then in good hands, and hope to come back with cheerfulnews," I said, bowing low, and stepped forth on my errand.

  I turned to the left and fifty paces brought me into the main street. Agun and a train of wagons were rumbling over the bridge, convoyed by ahandful of dragoons and a riff-raff of noisy lads and lasses. Late andcold as it was, the main street was thronged as on a fair day at noon.Most of the shops, especially those that dealt in provisions, were openand full of vociferous customers, while every alehouse was a pandemonium.The street was choked with townspeople and soldiery; lanterns flickeredand torches flamed; oath and jest, bravado and buffoonery, filled the air.

  I pushed my way to the market-place. Here about a dozen guns were parked,and at least a hundred horses tethered. At each corner a huge fire crackedand roared. The town hall was a blaze of light, and I heard from passersbythat the mayor and council had been in session since noon. The currentrumour was that the Stuart, with fifty thousand Highlanders, savages whodisembowelled women for sport and roasted children for food, had sackedManchester and was now marching south, with hell in his heart anddesolation in his train. If one-hundredth of it were true, the worthymayor had his work cut out, for the town was so ill-found that it wouldhave fallen to a bombardment of turnips.

  I took my stand on the town-hall steps to scan the scene and collect mythoughts. And here I had the best of luck, for who should come clankingdown the steps but Jack Dobson. I had no need to envy him now, havingbetter work on hand than his, but even if the mood of the midday had beenprevailing, it would have disappeared before his hearty greeting.

  "Noll, by gad, Noll," he cried, wringing my hand joyously. "I am glad tosee you, bully-boy; I thought you were sulking in your tent like--like,you know his name, the fellow old Bloggs was always yarning about."

  "Iphigenia," said I.

  "Was that the chap?" he said cheerily. "And now I've got you, come alongto the house. I've more to tell you than there is in all your silly oldVirgil, and it's alive, man, alive, alive. That's why it suits me. Comealong, Noll. Lord Brocton's supping and staying with dad, so's Sneyd, anda lot more, and you'll hear all the news. Brocton's a beast, and I'm gladI'm an officer, if it's only a cornet in his rotten dragoons. There'll beone beast less in the world, I'm thinking, before long."

  "What's he done to upset you?"

  "I say, Noll," was his reply, "Kate did look sweet this afternoon. I wasglad to have her come and see me off to the wars. I only had a fewsnatches of talk with her. Brocton was for ever finding me something todo, rot him, but she did look sweet."

  "All right, if she did. Never mind our Kate."

  "Never mind your Kate, you barbarian, you one-eyed anthropathingamy! Oh,Noll, old friend"--there was a catch in his voice as he dragged me intothe entry at the side of old Comfit's shop,--"she's your Kate now, but ifI come back, I want her to be my Kate. Don't breathe a word to her, Noll,unless I never come back,--war has its risks, Noll, and I'm going to take'em all,--but if I never come back, Noll, just tell Kate that I loved her."

  A plump of townspeople yelled their way past the entry, and their torcheslit up his fresh, boyish face, all alight with the enthusiasms of war andlove. I clasped his hand, and we looked into each other's eyes.

  "I'm glad to tell you, Noll."

  "I'm glad to hear it, Jack. Come back, for Kate's sake."

  The good fellow bubbled with joy at the meaning in my words, and wecontinued our way up the entry, intending a detour where we could talk inquiet, but before we had got out of the glare of the torches, he stoppedme, looked searchingly at me and said, "Old Noll, there's more in yourhead now than Virgil." This confirmed my suspicion that Master Jack Dobsonwas learning in his way more than I had learned in mine.

  "Farming," said I. "Tell me why Brocton is a beast."

  "He thinks every pretty woman a butterfly for his filthy fingers to crushthe beauty out of. B
ut if he rolls his beast's tongue round one name,either he or I will want that ferryman chap. What's his name?"

  "Charon," said I, forgetting to tease him.

  "That's him, Charon, I'm sure you're right this time. I wasn't sure aboutthe sulky old boy in the tent. I always thought Iphi-something was the onethat got his throat--Abram and Isaac sort of tale without any ram andthicket at the end of it--but of course you'll be right."

  "And what sort of dragoons are you cornet of?" I asked.

  "They give me the bats, Noll. There's about two hundred town-sweepings,not worth powder and shot, who want tying on their horses, and hardly knowbutt from bayonet, and there's another two hundred better men, gottogether coming along, or in the country around Lichfield. Sneyd, arattling good fellow, and I have tossed for stations, and when it comes toa battle he's to lead the yokels and I'm to follow behind, kicking thescum of London into the firing-line. Damn 'em. But I'll kick 'em rightenough. Then there's Major Tixall--major, by gad--a slinking cut-throat,with a face the colour of pigs' liver. What he's majoring it for, Broctonand the devil alone know. The only good thing is we've got a first-ratedrill sergeant. He's Brocton's toady, and for that I don't like him, buthe does know his business, I must say that for him."

  "Big-headed man, with a mouth slit up to his left ear?" said I, seizingthe welcome opportunity.

  "How the deuce do you know?" asked Jack, astonished.

  "He came searching the Hanyards this afternoon for a Jacobite spy, awoman. But he didn't find her. She slipped through his fingers somehow. Iunderstood from big-mouth that you'd caught her father. What have you donewith him? Is he crow's meat yet?"

  "No, for some reason or other, which is a mystery to me, Brocton sent himon with the van."

  "Here?"

  "No, farther on. Their orders are to push into Stone to-day, andNewcastle to-morrow. They ought to be in touch with the enemy there. Ofcourse it's not certain which way they'll come, and if they come this way,Noll, mark you, we've made a mistake. We ought to have waited for 'em atMilford. We could have blown 'em to bits from the top of the hills, longbefore they could have got at us."

  Our talk had brought us to an alley containing a side entrance to MasterDobson's fine, old, timbered house, the pride of the town and known thereas the "Ancient High House." It stood on the main street of the town,which led from the bridge to the market-place. For a moment I wasundecided, since I had obtained the news that mattered most, but I hadonly been out a short time, the rabbit-stew would not be ready, MistressWaynflete was safe and comfortable, and might prefer to be alone, it waspossible that I might learn something further--and on these grounds Idecided that it would be well worth while to accept Jack's invitation. Itherefore followed him into the withdrawing-room. Here I paid duecourtesies to buxom Mistress Dobson and Mistress Priscilla Dobson, Jack'soldest sister, a wasp-waisted bundle of formalities, for ever curtsyingand coquetting, after the London mode as she fondly imagined. My backfairly ached with answering bobs and bows before we had drunk our part ofa dish of tea, which Mistress Dobson had brewed wherewith to refreshherself after the toils of hospitality, but at last I jerked my way out atJack's heels, and we climbed to the stately barrel-roofed room where thegreat ones were assembled.

  Horseshoe-wise round a mighty fire of logs, with a small table coveredwith decanters and glasses between each pair, some dozen men sat at theirwine. There was, of course, Master Dobson, his meagre body all a twitterwith importance, sitting in the centre of the bend, opposite the fire,whence he could survey all his guests at once, and urge them on with theircarousing.

  "My son returneth, my lord," he said, "with news from the worshipful theMayor, and he hath brought with him a worthy yeoman, one Master Wheatman,who--"

  "Of the Hanyards, Esquire," said I in a testy whisper.

  "Ha, yes," he corrected and compromised, "Master Wheatman of theHanyards, a loyal subject of His Gracious Majesty."

  "The best friend and hardest hitter in broad Staffordshire," added Jackheartily.

  I stepped into the horseshoe and made a bow general to the company, and alower one for the benefit of my Lord Brocton, who sat next to the hearthin pride of place and comfort. Some years older than I, but not yetthirty, handsome as a god carved by Phidias, but with drink and devilmentalready marking him out for a damned soul, he sat there, the idol of thatlord-worshipping company. The only vacant chair was on his left. It wasJack's place, earned by his father's guineas, which had remained vacantduring his absence. The good lad, I record it with pride, notwithstandinga forbidding glance from his father, motioned me towards it, and fetched aglass and poured out wine for me. As I was stepping forward his lordshipwas good enough to address me.

  "Ha, Master Wheatman of the Hanyards,"--there was a sneer in his voice,--"itis well I see thee on the right side, or, by gad and His GraciousMajesty, we'd have that other five hundred acres of yours." He tossed offa bumper of wine and added, "Or a solatium, Master Wheatman, a solatium."

  I caught Jack's eye as I stepped right into the middle of the group. Tomy astonishment it was glowing with anger. Did he not think I could takecare of myself? Really Jack was becoming mysterious, but I supposed thatas I was Kate's brother he was feeling unusually interested in my welfare.For my own part I was quite comfortable, and I replied easily, "As amatter of fact, my lord, I have chosen my side expressly on account of thewell-known propensities of your lordship's family."

  For a full minute nothing was heard in the room but the cracking andsputtering of the fire. This was not because of what I had said, though noone present, and he least of all, could be fool enough to misunderstandit, but because of its effect on him. Then, as now, blood flowed likewater on far lighter occasions than this, and Brocton, with all hisfaults, was a ready fighter. For once, however, his fingers did not seekhis sword hilt, but fumbled with his empty glass, and his face went whiteas the ashes at his feet. At length he recovered himself somewhat.

  "The loyal propensities of my family are well known to all men," he said.

  "And its determination to profit by them," I retorted coldly, and plumpedme down at his side.

  Right opposite me was the rector, a gross, sack-faced, ignorantjolt-head, jowled like a pig and dew-lapped like an ox. Nature had meanthim for a butcher, but, being a by-blow of a great house, a discerningpatron had diverted him bishopward. In a voice husky with feeling andwine, he said, "Surely it is the part of a gracious king to reward suchfaithful service as that of the noble Earl of Ridgeley and my LordBrocton."

  "Decidedly, your reverence," I answered briskly, "and of others too, andif, as seems likely, the Highlanders have left a vacant deanery or twobehind them, I hope your loyal services and pastoral life will be suitablyrewarded with one."

  Here Jack drew up another chair and I moved to make more room, so that hecould sit next to Brocton, to whom he was soon detailing in eager whispersthe result of his visit to the town hall. The others took up the brokenlinks of talk, and this gave me an opportunity of inspecting the company.

  There could be no doubt about the man on my left. His vicious, pimplyface manifested him Major Tixall, and Mistress Margaret's shudder waseasily accounted for. He turned his shoulder to me and talked to anotherofficer, who, so far, was only in his apprenticeship at the same game.Beyond were two other officers of a wholly different stamp, and the onewho smiled at me with his eyes I took to be Sir Ralph Sneyd, a youngStaffordshire baronet of high repute. Then came Master Dobson, separatingthe military sheep from the civilian goats. There was the Friday-facedclothier and mercer, Master Allwood, strange company here since he was theelder of a dissenting congregation in the town, and therefore wellseparated from his reverence. The worthy mercer's dissent did not extend,so rumour had it, to the making of hard bargains, and doubtless he was foronce hob-nobbing with the great in respect of his long purse rather thanof his long prayers. Other townsmen, whose names I did not know or cannotrecall, separated deacon from rector.

  The last man in the company, sitting opposite to his
lordship, was astranger, and by far the man best worth looking at in the room. He haddrawn back a little, either out of the heat of the fire or to avoid hisreverence's vinous gossip as much as possible. Except that he wascertainly neither soldier nor parson, and probably not a lawyer, I couldmake nothing of him. He had a massive head and a resolute and intelligentface. He wore no wig and his hair was grey and closely cropped. I judgedhim to be a man nearing sixty, but he appeared strong and vigorous. He wasdressed with rich unostentation, in grey jacket and breeches, with alighter grey, silver-buttoned waistcoat, and stockings to match.

  There was only one thing to be talked about in any company in Staffordthat night. What was going to happen? What of truth and substance wasthere in the rumours that filled all mouths? At Master Dobson's twocurrents of opinion ran violently in opposite directions. The soldiers onmy left were of course certain that the Stuart Prince and his Highlandrabble would be driven back. The towns-people opposite were equallyimpressed with the fact that so far he had not been driven back but hadcarried all before him.

  Sir Ralph had been stoutly maintaining that the rebellion was hopeless."There's no getting away from it, Sir Ralph," squeaked Master Dobson,summing up for the doubtful townsmen; "between the rebels and us thisnight there's not thirty miles nor three hundred men, and you've so faronly got about two thousand men in Stafford. I'm as loyal a man as any inEngland, but there's no getting away from that."

  "Nobody wants to get away from it, Master Dobson," replied Sir Ralph."Any body of men with arms in their hands and the knack of using them, canmarch much farther than the Highlanders have come, if no other body ofarmed men stands in their way. The Stuart Prince's march will come to anend just as soon as he is opposed, and we're here to oppose him."

  Master Dobson was still gloomy. "What sort of men have you got? Rawmilitia lads, young recruits, and newly raised dragoons form at least halfof your force in Stafford."

  "Agreed," said Sir Ralph, "but we're rapidly licking 'em into shape, andthe Duke will be after us to-morrow with the regulars."

  "My good Sir Ralph," put in the mercer, "fifty thousand savageHighlanders will cut through Stafford as easily as if it were a Cheshirecheese. I fear the worst."

  "My worthy sir," said his lordship, and in his dulcet tones I heard thetinkle of the mercer's guineas, "you need fear nothing. Neither stick norstone in Stafford will be disturbed. We are at least strong enough to makegood terms."

  "And Mistress Allwood," said the rector with a leer, "will be spared thewastage of her charms on a ragged Highlander."

  The mercer's wife had all the charms of a withered apple, but here wasopening for discord, and our twittering host staved it off by appealing tothe stranger: "What do you think, Master Freake, of the way things aregoing?"

  "I have not formed an opinion as to what is likely to happen here, goodMaster Dobson," he replied, "but, speaking generally, I should feel mucheasier in mind if the Duke's horses were not so utterly worn out."

  There was a distinct note of patronage in the tone in which this shrewdand sensible remark was uttered, nor was this affected, I thought, butrather the natural manner of a strong man speaking to a weak one.

  "Egad, you're right there, sir," cried Jack. "Nineteen out of twenty ofthem couldn't be flayed into doing another five miles. I was over an hourgetting them from Milford, under five miles."

  "The Highlanders would march it in less," replied Master Freake, "andthis is not a campaign, but a race."

  "Where to?" It was Brocton who spoke.

  "London," was the prompt reply. "That's the heart of England, my lord,and if Prince Charles gets into the heart he need not be concerned overWade marking time in the heels or the Duke sprawling about in its belly."

  "Your speech is light, Master Freake," said the rector with drunken senseand gravity. "I trust it savoureth not of treasonable hopes."

  I turned during this absurd remark to glance at Brocton to see whateffect this excellent summary of the situation had had on him. To mysurprise I caught him looking so meaningly at the pimple-faced Major, thatI felt sure something was going to happen, and I was right.

  "God rot the man," said the Major thickly. "Does he say that I'msprawling about in somebody's belly?" He staggered to his feet, hand onsword, and made to cross to the stranger, shouting, "Damnation to you,I'll thrust something into your belly!"

  Brocton, not in the least to my surprise, made no attempt to interfere.Jack couldn't, for I was in the way. His father began to splutterhelplessly. I shot out my foot, and swept the Major heavily to the floor.I plucked him up by his collar as if he were a rabbit, and choked him tillhis face was nearly black. Then I put him back in his chair, where he sathuddled up and gasping.

  "Sir," said I to him, with much politeness, "you are tired by theexertions of the evening. But I like a man who sticks up for hiscommander, and desire to have the honour of drinking your health." And Itoasted him complacently, smiling the while into his little pig's eyes.

  This terminated the trouble, which Master Freake had watched with quietamusement. For my own part I was now anxious to go, for I was learningnothing. Accident favoured me, for a servant came in and whisperedsomething to Brocton which took him out of the room. I seized theopportunity to follow, declining to allow Jack to accompany me, andwishing him good-bye and good luck. "Remember about Kate," were his lastwords, whispered eagerly as he loosed my hand and opened me the door.

  Several rooms opened on the landing, and I noticed that one door wasajar. As I passed the slit of light I caught sight of the sergeant ofdragoons, and stopped beyond the door to listen. I heard Brocton's voice,and caught the words, "Egad, I'll e'en try her. Take the best horseavailable. There's no danger, but speed is everything." He dropped hisvoice to a whisper and for a moment or two I caught nothing. Then, raisinghis voice again, he said, "And now for your prize." I heard him move togo, and darted ahead, silent as a bat in a barn, and a moment later was inthe noisy street. There was nothing to keep me now, and a few minuteslater I quietly lifted Marry-me-quick's latch, stepped into the room, andobserved at once that Mistress Waynflete's look imported news.

  "Now, little mother," said I to Mistress Tonks, "supper's the blessedestword I know."

  "And the rabbit-stew's as good as done by now," she said, and went intothe back room to dish it up.

  "The man with the slit face has been," said Mistress Waynfletecomposedly. "He came hunting for quarters, but Mistress Tonks frightenedhim off. At any rate, he soon left."

  "Did he recognize you as 'Moll' of the Hanyards?"

  "I'm quite sure that he did not. I turned my back the moment he entered,and my hood was up. Moreover, I did not speak a word. Mother Tonks saidthat I was staying here for the night because my father's house was fullof soldiers. She couldn't and wouldn't, she said, have a soldier here forall the worshipful mayors in England. I was quite amused at the way shetalked him back to the door and through it."

  The little woman bustled in to lay the supper things. She was bubblingover with elation. "It'll be another ten or fifteen minutes, will therabbit-stew. The lady will have told you about ugly mug, Master Oliver. Igot him out in no time. His head was all mouth like a cod-fish. I'll soonbe back. I expect you're both hungry."

  Off she bustled again, and we again settled down to our talk. I wasanxious to see if she could throw any light on Brocton's dealing with herfather. His conduct was to me wholly inexplicable. Then, too, there washis obvious understanding with Major Tixall in the matter of the latter'sattack on Master Freake. Who was this stranger and why had he incurredBrocton's enmity? Here was a whole string of puzzles awaiting solution.But before I could start the conversation we were again interrupted. Thelatch clicked, the door opened, and in walked my Lord Brocton.