Roger Willoughby Part 23

"You will do," said Tobias, nodding as he pa.s.sed. In a short time he came back accompanied by a light figure in a dark cloak, and turning a key, and noiselessly drawing back some bolts, glided into the room.

Both the prisoners were sleeping. She was loth to awake them, yet it must be done. She turned the lantern on Stephen's face and uttered his name. He started up in a moment. "Can you forgive me?" he whispered in a low voice. "And yet you come as an angel of light to console me in my sore trouble."

"I come not to blame you, Stephen, but to comfort you if I can. I would inform you the means for your and your brother's escape have been provided; you have simply to walk out of this room while the sentry is sleeping. Your father is aware that you have been made prisoner, and he has arranged for your concealment, or will endeavour to have you conveyed northward where search is not likely to be made for you."

"Thanks, dearest, thanks a thousandfold," said Stephen. "For your sake I would use every exertion to escape, but I cannot desert my companions.

I have already brought too many into trouble in endeavouring to get clear of my foes. I have induced several to join our unhappy cause who have lost their lives. I cannot run the risk of bringing the Colonel and his family into trouble, which I should do were I to escape from his house."

"Indeed, he is anxious to save you, I am sure of it, else he would not have had you placed in this room," said Alice, "though he wisely would not commit himself further. He knew that I brought you your clothing, and he would willingly run any risk for the sake of saving you from the clutches of Judge Jeffreys, who is expected every day at Dorchester to commence the a.s.size, and all who know him say that it will be a fearful one."

"I must endure whatever I am called on to suffer," answered Stephen.

"The Colonel and our father will be made responsible were Andrew and I to escape. Were you to be suspected of a.s.sisting us, they would not even spare you, Alice."

"But were I betrothed to you I would urge that as my plea," said Alice, in a trembling voice. "I know what were your intentions, and if you will even now ask me to marry you, I will consent, and I shall then have a right to plead that I acted according to the dictates of duty, or should you not after all escape, I should be able to exert myself as I best can to obtain your pardon."

A fearful struggle took place in Stephen's heart. He had long loved the girl who pleaded with him, and that love prompted him to endeavour to save her from dangers to which she might be exposed; but hope triumphed.

Without further hesitation he pledged his troth to her; still he could not bring himself to desert his companions and to compromise the Colonel and his family, which he knew he should do were he and his brother to make their escape from the house. Andrew had been sleeping soundly all this time. He awoke him and told him of the arrangements that had been made to enable them once more to get free from the clutches of their foes. Two spare horses, Alice told them, would be in waiting outside the grounds at midnight, with a guide to conduct them northward. They would be many miles away before their flight would be discovered. By remaining concealed during the following day they might, by riding all night, get beyond the counties where the rebellion had existed. Andrew, according to his custom, considered the matter calmly over.

"I agree with you, Stephen," he said; "we must not attempt it." And he used the same arguments which his brother had already done. "Let us remain and brave the consequences; we are deeply grateful to Mrs Tufnell."

Both spoke so lightly that Alice, though she bitterly mourned their decision, was won over to agree that the course to be pursued was the right one. That they would have succeeded was doubtful, and before she left the room the sound of the sergeant's voice as he roused up his men to change the guard reached their ears, and she had barely time to escape from the room when the heavy tread of the soldiers' feet was heard coming along the pa.s.sage. The guard at the door started up, not so completely overcome as might have been expected. The sergeant looked into the room, to find both his prisoners sleeping apparently in their beds; he then went to the other room, where he found all secure, but his suspicions must have been aroused from some cause or other, for he placed a double guard at the door, and retired highly satisfied with his own vigilance. Poor Alice went back to her room to weep, agitated by various emotions. Though disappointed that Stephen had not escaped at once, she felt that, now she was betrothed to him, she had a right to exert herself in his favour. She determined bravely to do so at all costs. She wished that Roger had been at home, as he would be able to a.s.sist her in whatever she might undertake; but there was not the slightest chance, she feared, of his returning for some time to come.

Next morning the family at the manor-house were early on foot. The sergeant was evidently so well satisfied with the way he and his companions had been treated, that he had no wish to move forward. For the sake of the young Battis...o...b..s, the Colonel was not in a great hurry to get rid of them, as he otherwise would have been. In order to have an excuse for remaining longer, the sergeant sent off one of his men to Lyme to learn whether he was to take his prisoners to that place, or to convey them to Dorchester, where, as the a.s.size was soon to commence, they would have a speedy trial. Alice was in hopes that they would be detained another night, and Stephen and Andrew might then be persuaded to make their escape. Having dressed herself as much as possible like a waiting-maid, she took the opportunity of visiting them during the dinner-hour, under the pretence of carrying in their food. Stephen, to her disappointment, was firm as before; the same reasons weighed with him. It grieved him to say so, but he was sure that he was acting rightly. She had not long left the room when Mr Willoughby returned.

He looked fatigued and out of spirits as he pa.s.sed along the pa.s.sage to the Colonel's private room, for it could not be justly called a study.

Some time pa.s.sed, when Madam Pauline, who was eager to hear what had happened, went in, accompanied by Alice. Mr Willoughby, who in the meantime had had a long conversation with the Colonel, now told Madam Pauline his first visit was to the abode of Farmer Stubbs, which to his dismay he found empty. Mrs Stubbs had gone no one could tell whither, possibly carried off by the soldiers in revenge for the escape of Stephen and Andrew, although he was not aware of that at the time. The farm itself had not been pillaged, except of portable provisions. This was probably owing to its distance from the camp, or it would have fared but ill. Unable to hear what had become of his young friends, Mr Willoughby had gone on to Bridgewater, and had run a great risk of being seized as a suspected adherent of the Duke of Monmouth, and it was only by a.s.serting that he was brother-in-law to Colonel Tregellen, a well-known Royalist, that he had escaped. He had done his most to gain information of his young friends, of course in vain. It would have been folly to try and get access to any of the leaders for the purpose of purchasing their pardon till he could learn where they were. He said that he was sick at heart at the sight of the heads of the hapless rebels which were seen at the entrance of every village, while gibbets in great numbers lined the roads in the neighbourhood of Bridgewater.

Mr Willoughby had several narrow escapes, when he encountered an old acquaintance, who was no other than Cornet Bryce. He had to look at him hard, for he little expected to see him in military guise. The Cornet looked much cast down. Mr Willoughby learned from him the cause of his depression, the escape, namely, of two prisoners. He fully expected to be placed under arrest and severely punished, should it be discovered by the General that they had got off. Mr Willoughby was not long in ascertaining that the two missing prisoners were the sons of his friend.

He kept his counsel as to his object in coming to Bridgewater, and returned home as soon as he could. Alice was glad to see him arrive, as she thought he might possibly try to induce Stephen and Andrew to escape. He saw clearly the danger to which the Colonel would be exposed, and declined in any way committing himself, though he promised, should they be delivered over to the officers of the law, to use every exertion to obtain their pardon or liberation.

As the sergeant had not ordered the man he sent to Lyme to make any haste, it was late in the day before he returned with orders to carry his prisoners to Dorchester. "I suppose, Colonel, that you do not insist on our setting out this afternoon?" said the sergeant. "It is a long day's march to Dorchester. We should make it better by starting fresh in the morning."

The Colonel a.s.sured the sergeant that he was welcome to remain. He knew that in the meantime Mr Battis...o...b.. was exerting himself, through certain friends, with those in authority to obtain the pardon of his sons. Every day he gained was of consequence. He also hoped leave might be obtained to enable them to perform the journey on horseback.

In the evening he came over to see his two sons. The parting was an affecting one. Though he had been exerting himself to obtain their pardon, he knew too well that his efforts might prove fruitless. He remained that night at the manor-house, that he might be with them as long as possible. When he asked leave of the sergeant to allow his sons to ride on horseback, the request was refused, on the ground that he could not grant them a favour which was denied to the other prisoners, and that as he and his men would have to march on foot, they must be content to proceed in the same manner.

A sad procession set forth from Eversden Manor on the early dawn of a bright autumn morning. Each prisoner was conducted by two guards with loaded muskets. Farewells had been spoken, and the order to march was given.

Though no mention has been made of the other prisoners, they had been treated at the manor-house with every kindness and consideration, and had been supplied with means for purchasing provisions on the way, as well as on their arrival. Mr Battis...o...b.. rode a short distance beyond the Hall with his sons. Upon his return home, Mr Battis...o...b.. said that he had left the party marching on in tolerably good spirits, not believing, from the numbers already executed, that many more victims would be required to satisfy the demands of the law. Alas! they were to find that they were terribly mistaken.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

The a.s.size at Dorchester was opened on the 3rd of September. Jeffreys had already pa.s.sed through Hampshire, and succeeded in Winchester in p.r.o.nouncing sentence on the Lady Lisle for harbouring two fugitives from Sedgemoor. He condemned her to be burnt alive that very afternoon, but, happily, the excessive barbarity moved the feelings of the clergy of the cathedral, who induced him to put off the execution; and though every effort was made to obtain her pardon, the utmost that was gained was that her sentence should be commuted from burning to being beheaded.

She was put to death on a scaffold in the market-place of Winchester, and underwent her fate with serene courage. At Dorchester more than three hundred prisoners were to be tried. The court was hung with scarlet, an indication of the b.l.o.o.d.y purpose of the Chief Justice. It would seem that the work would require a long time to get through.

Jeffreys, to make it light, let it be understood that the only chance to obtain a pardon or respite was to plead guilty. On the following morning he attended Divine service at Saint Mary's Church. When the clergyman, in his sermon, spoke of mercy, Jeffreys was observed to laugh,--an omen of coming vengeance. The sermon over, the Judge, attended by many of the princ.i.p.al gentry of Dorset, Somerset, and Devon, entered the Great Hall. Without loss of time he commenced his charge to the Grand Jury in a tone of voice and language which astonished and alarmed all who heard it. He warned them that their business was to make most strict inquiries not only after princ.i.p.als but after aiders and abettors, the fact being that many of the jury had sheltered refugees, thus making them accessory to high treason after the fact. As not only weeks but months might have been consumed had the ordinary process been proceeded with, to avoid this the Judge adopted a plan to shorten the business, and to procure a confession, without which not a tenth part would have been legally proved guilty. Two officers, such was his plan, were sent into the jail to call over and take the names of the prisoners; they were to promise pardon or execution. If the prisoners confessed, they were told that they might expect mercy, otherwise not; and as many were induced to accept the proffered mercy, these officers were in a condition to appear as witnesses of their confession. The first thirty, however, mistrusting the cruel Judge, preferred the chances of an ordinary trial. This was on Sat.u.r.day. The same evening Jeffreys signed a warrant to hang thirteen on the following Monday, which was punctually performed. Nearly the whole of the remainder were executed. Witnesses were brow-beaten in a most fearful manner. Jeffreys thundered at them, using the most abusive language; but the scenes which took place are too horrible, too disgraceful, to be dwelt on. No less than two hundred and ninety-two persons received sentence of death at Dorchester alone. Among them were the two Battis...o...b..s; they had nothing to plead, except that they had taken up arms under the firm belief that they were fighting for the defence of the Protestant faith against Popery. Very many others were in the same case. Mr Battis...o...b.. did not venture to plead for his sons, for he might himself have been seized and condemned by the unjust Judge, while he was utterly powerless to a.s.sist them openly. The health of the Colonel did not allow him to leave home, or, interested as he was in the fate of his young friends, he would have gone to try and help them. Mr Willoughby, however, who was dauntless in a good cause, offered to attend the a.s.size to be ready to take advantage of any opening which might occur. As he listened, however, to the language of the Judge, who looked more like a drunken madman than a minister of justice, he was in despair; he exerted himself to ascertain the places and time of execution of the different prisoners. He found that Andrew, together with Colonel Holmes, Dr Temple--the Duke's physician--Mr Tyler, who had read the Declaration, were to be executed at Lyme, near the spot where the Duke of Monmouth had landed, about half a mile west of the town. It gave him slight hope that Stephen might escape; but he in vain endeavoured to see him or to ascertain what was to be his fate. He was returning from the Court to his inn, when he saw before him a slight female figure in a riding-dress; it was Alice.

"Oh, uncle Willoughby!" she exclaimed, taking his hand; "do not blame me; while there is life there is hope. I cannot let Stephen perish without endeavouring to save him; I should never forgive myself."

"I cannot blame you, Alice," said Mr Willoughby. "How are you going to proceed? What means have you at your disposal?"

"I know that I can promise any sum that Mr Battis...o...b.. has it in his power to pay, and I propose seeing the Judge himself," said Alice. "I will tell him that the death of one brother is sufficient to appease the demands of justice."

"But I fear, Alice, that he will say both are equally guilty," observed Mr Willoughby. "And you must be prepared for a refusal. Still, I would not hinder you from seeing the Judge, terrible as he is in his manner and appearance."

"I have thought over everything," answered Alice, "and resolved to brave the lion in his den. He condemned the elder brother to death, and he may be induced to suppose that the younger was led to join the Duke by his influence."

"I fear much, Alice, that he will be influenced by no other consideration beyond the amount you can offer him," said Mr Willoughby.

Strong in the justice of her cause, and prompted by her devotion to Stephen, in spite of the savage nature of the Judge, her aim was to see him before he entered the Court; for she heard that once there, inflamed and excited by his drams of spirits, and by his remarks to prisoners, witnesses, counsel, and jury, she was less likely to induce him to listen to her pet.i.tion, or to understand its object. She had therefore to remain all night in an agony of doubt and fear in a room next to Mr Willoughby's. She awoke at early dawn from hearing a noise in the street, and, looking out of her window, the first figure she recognised was that of Andrew Battis...o...b..; there were two other gentlemen whom she knew by having seen them in court, and who she heard were condemned to death. Her eye ranged over the others, in dread lest Stephen might be seen; but he was not there. She felt relieved, and yet she knew how he must be grieving for the loss of his brother. She hurriedly dressed, in the hopes of being able to say a few words of comfort to poor Andrew, to hear from him of his parting with his brother, also to tell him of her intention of having an interview with the Judge. Scarcely, however, had she reached the street than the mournful procession, guarded by a strong band of soldiers, was ordered to march on. She would have rushed forward to speak to Andrew, as others were doing to their friends and relatives, but the soldiers closed round them, and kept every one off.

She returned to her room to finish her toilet, so that she might be prepared to set out with Mr Willoughby as soon as it was likely that the Judge would have risen. Mr Willoughby was soon ready, and as it was understood the Judge breakfasted early, she was eager to start. She had nerved herself up for the encounter, fully prepared for whatever might be said to her. She had heard of the language Jeffreys was accustomed to use towards people of all cla.s.ses, and she did not suppose her s.e.x and youth would enable her to escape. She was glad, however, to lean on Mr Willoughby's arm as they approached the house where the Chief Justice had taken up his quarters. Alice had a letter ready, requesting to see him on an important matter. In a short time the servant, to whom she had given the letter, appeared and said that the Chief Justice would see her. Mr Willoughby thought it prudent to remain in the court below. He knew that, should he go in with her, unpleasant questions would be asked, and he would probably be branded as a Puritan, and perhaps sent off to prison to undergo his trial. Alice, without trembling, followed her guide and was ushered into a large room, at the further end of which sat the Chief Justice before a plentifully-spread breakfast-table. His eyes were ferrety, his nose and cheeks fiery red, his countenance even in rest had a savage expression.

"Well, young woman, who are you, and what do you want?" he asked in a gruff tone.

"Please, my lord, I am grand-daughter of a Cavalier who died fighting for his king; my father was a loyal gentleman, and I have been brought up by my guardian, Colonel Tregellen, an old Cavalier. I have had no sympathy with the late Duke of Monmouth, and yet I come to plead for the life of one who has been implicated in his rebellion."

"Some crop-eared knave with whom thou hast fallen in love, wench,"

growled the Chief Justice. "Out on thee, for an idle baggage!"

"I come to plead for the life of my betrothed husband," said Alice.

"And, my lord, there are those who value him for his honesty and other good qualities, and are ready to pay as large a sum of money as they can collect, to obtain his pardon, and I am authorised to hand it over to your Lordship, that you may do with it as you think fit."

Jeffrey's eyes sparkled as he turned them towards Alice. "What is the name of this precious youth, thy betrothed husband, wench? I warrant he thinks thou art worth living for."

"Stephen Battis...o...b..," answered Alice.

"Why, he is one I yesterday sentenced to death; he should have been hung by this time, so you are too late, wench."

"Please you, my lord, it was his elder brother, Andrew Battis...o...b..,"

said Alice. "Were he even more criminal than he is, surely the death of one in the family is sufficient to satisfy the ends of justice."

"I would stamp out the whole brood of vipers, could I catch them," said Jeffreys.

Poor Alice felt her heart sink, but she was not to be defeated.

"Whatever his crime, my lord, the sum I am authorised to place in your Lordship's hands, on receiving his pardon, will, I hope, condone it."

"Ho, ho," said the Chief Justice, eyeing the notes and rolls of gold; then, turning to a list he had by his side: "I see he is condemned to be hung, and should have been strung up with his brother this afternoon.

To pardon him is impossible. All I can do is to commute his sentence, and condemn him to be sent as a slave to the West Indies. There, do not be weeping, wench. You have obtained your lover's life, at a cheap rate too. If you care for him you will rejoice. You have saved him for a trumpery thousand pounds."

"But can he not be pardoned, can he not be pardoned, my lord?" exclaimed Alice, clasping her hands. "To be banished to the West Indies as a slave is a terrible punishment."

"We can hang him instead," said Jeffreys.

"Then, will you give me a paper stating that his sentence is commuted?"

"You doubt my word, wench? Well, you shall have it to satisfy your incredulity," and he wrote a few lines. "Stephen Battis...o...b.., sentenced to death, punishment commuted to ten years' slavery in Jamaica."

Alice could scarcely refrain from giving a cry of dismay as she saw this. "Could he not be sent to Virginia?" she asked.

"Could you not go out and join him there?" exclaimed the Judge, tauntingly. "If you are not content with having saved your crop-eared lover's life, you shall have his dead body by to-morrow morning, wench, and I will order him to be hung forthwith."