No Quarter! Part 40

Seeming to do the same was the corporal in charge of Eustace Trevor, his prisoner too, both on the ground together. Only an instant till they were in the saddle again, but with changed horses, and the blood-crusted ring at the bottom of the corporal's pocket. Meanwhile the officers under the tree had got served, and, cups in hand, were quaffing joyously. In high glee all; for the sun, now well up, promised a day gloriously fine, and they were about to make entry into Hereford with flying colours. Nearly twenty prisoners, it would be as a triumphal procession.

A cry, strangely intoned, brought their merriment to an abrupt end; a chorus of shouts, quick following with the clatter of hoofs. Turning, they saw one on horseback just parting from the troop, as if his horse had bolted and was running away with him!

But no. "Prisoner escaping!" came the call, as every one could now see it was. The man in rich garb, but soiled and torn; the horse a bit of blood none of their prisoners had been riding. One of the officers they had taken--which?

The question was answered by the High Sheriff himself--

"Zounds! it's that young renegade, Trevor! He mustn't escape, gentlemen. All after him!"

Down went tankards and flagons, dashed to the ground, spilling the wine they had not time to drink; and off all set, swords drawn, and spurs buried rowel deep.

The common men, save those c.u.mbered with prisoners, joined in the pursuit; some unslinging lances or firelocks, others plucking pistols from their holsters.

"Shoot!" shouted Lingen. "Bring him down, or the horse!"

It was the critical moment for the fugitive, and in modern days would have been fatal to him. But the old _snap-hans_ and clumsy horse pistol of the Stuart times were little reliable for a shot upon the wing, and as a winged bird Saladin was sweeping away. Both volley and straggling fire failed to stay him; and ere the pursuers were well laid on, the pursued was at least fifty lengths ahead of the foremost.

Up the hill, towards Hereford, was he heading! This a surprise to all.

In that direction were only his enemies; and he could as easily have gone off in the opposite, with hope of getting to Gloucester. At starting he had even to pa.s.s the group of officers under the tree. And why setting his face for Hereford--as it were rushing out of one trap to run into another?

He knew better. Fleeing to the capital of the county was the farthest thing from his thoughts. His goal was Monmouth; but first the forking of the roads on the shoulder of Acornbury Hill. That reached, with no _contretemps_ between, he might bid defiance to the clattering ruck in his rear.

The distance he was so rapidly gaining upon them told him he had not been mistaken about the superior qualities of his steed. If the latter should show bottom as it already had heels, his chances of escape were good. And the omens seemed all in his favour: his own horse so oddly restored to him; the luck of that ring left un-pilfered during his imprisonment; and, lastly, to have come unscathed out of the shower of bullets sent after him! They had whistled past his ears, not one touching him or the horse.

He thought of these things when far enough ahead to reflect; and the farther he rode the greater grew his confidence. Saladin would be sure to justify his good opinion of him.

And Saladin seemed to quite comprehend the situation. He at least knew his real owner and master was once more on his back, which meant something. And having received word and sign for best speed--the first "On!" the last a peculiar pressure of the rider's knees--he needed no urging of whip or spur. Without them he was doing his utmost.

Up the pitch went he as hare against hill; up the channel-like trackway between escarpments of the old red sandstone that looked like artificial walls; on upward, breasting the steep with as much apparent ease as though he galloped along level ground. No fear of anything equine overtaking him; no danger now, for the pursuers were out of sight round many turnings of the road; the hue and cry was growing fainter and farther off, and the stone which marked the forking of the routes would soon be in sight.

Eustace Trevor's heart throbbed with emotions it had long been a stranger to, for they were sweet. He now felt good as sure he would get off, and to escape in such fashion would do something to restore his soldierly repute, forfeited by the affair of Hollymead. Nothing had more exasperated him than his facile capture there; above all, the light in which a certain lady would regard it; but now he could claim credit for a deed--

"Not done yet!" was his muttered exclamation, interrupting the pleasant train of thought, as he reined his horse to a sudden halt.

He was approaching the head of the pitch, had almost surmounted it, when he saw what seemed to tell him his attempt at escape was a failure; all his strategy, with the swiftness of his steed, to no purpose. A party of mounted men, just breaking cover from among some trees, and aligning themselves across the road. At the same instant came the customary hail,--"Who are you for?"

The dazzle of the sun right before his face, and behind their backs, hindered his seeing aught to give a clue to their character--only the glance of arms and accoutrements proclaiming them soldiers. And as no soldiers were like to be there save on the Royalist side, to declare himself truthfully, and respond "For the Parliament," would be to p.r.o.nounce his own doom. Yet he hated in his heart to cry "For the King." Nor would the deception serve him. They coming on behind would soon be up, and lay it bare.

He glanced to right and left, only to see that he was still between high banks of the sunken causeway. On neither side a possibility of scaling them to escape across country. It was but a question, then, to which he should surrender--the foe in front, or that he had late eluded?

There was not much to choose between them; in either case he would be returned to the Sheriff of Hereford; but to cut short suspense he decided on giving himself up at once. The road was blocked by the party of horse, and, weaponless, to attempt running the gauntlet of them would be to get piked out of his saddle, or cut to pieces in it.

These observations and reflections occupied but an instant, to end in his responding,--

"For the Parliament?"

He might as well make a clean breast of it, and tell the truth.

"We see you are. Come on!"

Surprised was he at the rejoinder as at the voice that gave utterance to it, which seemed familiar to him. But his surprise became astonishment when the speaker added, "Quick, Trevor! we're in ambuscade;" and drawing nearer, the sun now out of his eyes, he saw that well-known banneret, with sword-pierced crown in its field, waving above the head of Sir Richard Walwyn!

CHAPTER FIFTY.

AN AMBUSCADE.

Steaming at the nostrils Saladin was for the second time brought to a stand, head to head with old stable comrades that snorted recognition.

For with Colonel Walwyn was Rob Wilde and others of his troop.

A hurried explanation ensued, Sir Richard first asking,--

"Your guards? You were being escorted?"

"Yes; I've given them the slip."

"Where are they now?"

"Coming up the hill--you hear them?"

"Hush!" enjoined the knight, speaking to those around him; and all became silent, listening.

Voices, with a quick trample of hoofs, and at short intervals a call as of command, from far below and but faintly heard. The road was almost subterranean, and wound up through a dense wood.

"What's their number?" again questioned the knight.

"Nigh two hundred--nearly all Lingen's force--and about twenty prisoners."

"Is Lingen with them?" eagerly asked an officer by Sir Richard's side, who seemed to share the command with him.

"Colonel Kyrle--Captain Trevor," said the knight, introducing them. "I suppose you're aware we've taken Monmouth?"

"I was not; but am happy to hear it. Yes, Colonel," replying to Kyrle, "Lingen is with them; coming on in the pursuit."

Over the features of the ex-Royalist came an expression of almost savage joy, as one who had been longing to confront an old and hated foe, and knew the opportunity near.

"I'm glad?" he exclaimed, as in soliloquy; then seemed to busy himself about his arms.

"His presence was near being a sorry thing for me--the inhuman scoundrel!" rejoined the escaped prisoner.

"How so?"

"I heard him give the order to fire on me, as I was making off."

"And they did?"

"Yes. Every one who could get piece, or pistol, ready in time."