The Weird Of The Wentworths Volume Ii Part 14

Early next morning, after a most unpleasant night, owing to the musquitoes and other insects that prevented them from almost closing their eyes, our travellers arose, little dreaming what was in store for them. They were disappointed to find that their friend, the Count, had left for Naples at an early hour--so he bade the inn-keeper say--as they had antic.i.p.ated his pleasant company at breakfast. Mr. Lennox then had to pay a most extortionate charge, notwithstanding his utmost efforts to reduce it. William after actually prevailing on his inamorata to bestow a parting salute, buckled on his sword, loosened it in the scabbard, and felt himself a hero. The two false guards mounted behind. Mr. Lennox handed his daughter into the carriage, and after his son, who talked loud of his hopes for a brush with the miscreants, got in himself also, the postilions whipped up and began the steep descent into the Val di Bovino, shortly after leaving Montaguto.

The early sun was bright and warm, the air clear, the scenery exquisite; every one felt in grand spirits as they trotted down the narrow defile through cornfields and hemp-fields, with the river Cervaro gushing by.

Soon the mountains, so steep as to seem inaccessible, closed nearer in, dense woods on either side of acacia and other trees almost shut out the daylight. When they were perhaps more than half way through, a pistol-shot resounded through the woods! In an instant the postilions drew up their horses with a loud cry--"The bandits--the bandits--the Vardarelli--we are undone!"[D]

"Drive on, drive on, for the love of heaven," cried Mr. Lennox, pale with fear--but his voice was unheard.

Another pistol-shot resounded, and this close by; its aim was fatal to the foremost postilion, who fell a corpse off his terrified horse. The other man leapt down and fled into the woods like a hare. William leapt out too, and drawing his sword whirled it round his head, crying to their guards to fight, to do their duty, and defend his sister! Alas!

the guards were not there--they too had disappeared! He now looked despairingly for aid; his father, poor old man, was white as a sheet, and trembling with fear held the pistol c.o.c.ked in one hand, and supported Caroline, who was in a dead swoon, in the other. The postilions--one was dead, the other flown! What should he do to save his family from their as yet unseen foe? A thought struck him, he would drive on! Just as he was about to put his thought into execution, and drive on the horses, which stood as if petrified too--a confused sound of trampling of steeds--oaths of men, clashing of arms--rose on every side, and as if by magic the carriage was surrounded by at least forty brigands. One, a dark-looking man, but evidently not a native, was conspicuous from the coal-black steed he bestrode, and his commanding manner. This was Luigi Vardarelli. Near him rode another singularly resembling him: this was Adrian Vardarelli; he saw another there he least expected to see--their friend the Count, of last evening! Close to this man rode two others, their quondam guardians! The remaining robbers were all fierce, bloodthirsty looking men. All this was seen in a moment by the unfortunate youth. He saw they were betrayed--he saw his death was near--and with a high resolve we could scarcely have thought the young man capable of feeling, he determined to try and save his father and sister by self-devotion.

"Gentlemen," he cried in Italian, "you could not hurt my aged parent, nor helpless sister! I think too highly of you--you are too n.o.ble to do so! take all we have--take me--and have your vengeance on my head, but spare my father,--spare my sister! You too, sir," addressing the false Count, "who have shared our hospitality, turn not your hand against them."

Adrian Vardarelli seemed moved by the young man's speech, and said something in his favour to the chieftain; but alas! in his face there was not the shadow of mercy. He said something aside to the false Count, who advancing, leapt off his horse and gave a command in Italian to the two who had been their guards, who instantly cutting the traces, smote the liberated horses, which set off at full speed, leaving the carriage alone on the road. The bandit then walking up struck the unfortunate young Lennox a blow on his cheek with the side of his sword, and commanded him to draw. Smarting with the blow, which drew blood, and still more with the insult, William rushed on his cool, wary antagonist with blind fury. The conflict was short; all Angelo's tuition went for nothing against the robber, who was a master in the art of fencing. In less than three pa.s.ses he disarmed his foe, and stepping forward ran his vengeful blade through and through William Lennox's heart! Then wiping the blade on his fallen victim's clothes, he walked to his captain for further orders.

CHAPTER XII.

"Of horrid stabs in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves."--_Hood._

From the time he heard the first shot up to the moment he saw his son pierced by the brigand's weapon, Mr. Lennox had sat as if he was an effigy and not a man, the father of him who had n.o.bly died for him, and the senseless girl who had sunk against him in a swoon. Whether it was abject fear, or whether he was stunned by the horrid murder of his son and the fainting state of Caroline, or whether both preyed on the old man's mind we know not, but certain it is he sat as if powerless, insensible, crushed.

"To work, comrades," cried the captain of the band; "you, my Pedro, have ably spun yon fiery c.o.xcomb, but more remains to be done. Pedro, lay a hand on the jewels, you know where they lie. I myself will see what the old dotard is about."

Whilst Pedro hastened to the trunk where the jewels were hidden, Luigi dismounted; followed by Adrian and several others, he approached the carriage-door. Roused for an instant from his fearful lethargy, Mr.

Lennox aimed the pistol he held in his hand at the first intruder's head, and fired, narrowly missing Luigi, who little expected such a welcome. As it was, the smoke so clouded him, suffocating him with its sulphurous vapour, that for an instant he was as it were knocked back.

"The old devil! who would have thought of that? Iddio! I had a narrow escape: the rascal! he shall suffer for it!" exclaimed the irate chieftain, as he rushed forward at the old gentleman, who had after this sudden outburst again relapsed into dastardly inaction. "You old viper!

I've got you now, and by Heaven I'll teach you to fire at me that way!

here, Adrian, help us to drag the venomous old toad from his hole."

Without waiting for the a.s.sistance he asked, Luigi, seizing the old man by the shoulder, dragged him forth notwithstanding his cries for mercy.

"Pity my grey hairs! pity a father you have left sonless! spare me, oh!

gentlemen, for G.o.d's sake! mercy! misericordia! for the sake of G.o.d--for the Virgin!"

"Cease whining in your villainous Italian, and ask for mercy in good English, you drivelling old poltroon," cried Luigi, in that tongue, for he had hitherto spoken in Italian.

He still held his prostrate foe by the arm with an iron grip, menacing death with his naked dagger. Had it not been for the dire reality and fatal signs of murder around, there was something almost ludicrous in the scene. Lying on his back, with his grey hair tangled and torn by his rough usage, his hands clasped together in beseeching agony, tears of terror streaming down his face, his countenance betraying awful fright, Mr. Lennox presented a remarkable contrast to the stern brigand, who, kneeling with one knee on his fallen captive, played with a shining dagger in one hand, whilst with the other he held his prisoner firm. The robber's countenance showed mingled contempt for his antagonist, if a resistless prisoner may so be called, and joy at having thus a foe in his power. But the scene was too terribly b.l.o.o.d.y for a smile; the father's foot rested against the body of his dead son, a little further off lay the corpse of the postilion with his limbs drawn together in the agony of his dying struggle, whilst fierce men on all sides cursed and swore as they dragged forth the baggage from the carriage, rudely breaking the lids, and scattering the articles on the road in their search for gold or precious things. Some of the band stood mute admirers of the scene of carnage and rapine, others were pa.s.sionless lookers on, whilst one appeared to regard with horror the whole outrage. This solitary instance amongst a band infamous for its butcheries was Adrian Vardarelli. Leaning against his horse from which he had dismounted, he regarded the various incidents with a look approaching to disgust,--once when he saw the face of Mr. Lennox as he was torn from his carriage, this look changed to one of intense surprise; but again he reposed into his former state of indolent disapproval. When Mr. Lennox heard his native tongue spoken where he least expected it, and by one he least imagined to know it, a sudden feeling of joy thrilled through him.

An Englishman, then, the captain of the band was, he knew it by his accent; he knew that some of the fiercest brigands had been his countrymen, but he felt a conviction, bad as he was, brutal as was his conduct, there was yet an appeal to his mercy as a fellow countryman, and he would try if there was not in his black heart a chord that responded.

"Capitano," he cried, "I am an Englishman, so are you. Oh! for the sake of our mutual land--for the love of G.o.d and man--for the sake of England, your native home,--spare me, spare my daughter; take my money, take all, but save my life."

"Look at me, you cowardly old rascal, look at me; do you not know me?

then ask yourself if you have cause to expect mercy; no, by G-- I told you a reckoning time would come, it has come, and d--n me if I let it slip."

It is not in the power of language to tell the surprise of Mr. Lennox, as he gazed on the speaker, and in Luigi Vardarelli, the terror of the Capitanata, the scourge of the Abruzzi and all the south of Italy, beheld his old acquaintance Captain John de Vere.

"Ha! Lennox, old boy," continued the robber, "you little thought Luigi Vardarelli was your old friend the Captain. Egad I little thought, when Pedro brought me the news to-day an old gentleman, his son and daughter, with rich jewels, pa.s.sed this way, that it was my old friend Lennox. I told you a dozen years ago you might live to repent your words to me that night; you have lived to do so, and by the Almighty you shall repent it,--your life alone shall satisfy me."

Poor Mr. Lennox, who had been comforting himself with the hopes that old friendship would at least save his life, saw all his visions vanish like smoke with the last dreadful words; yet he determined he would not lose his life for want of asking. During their converse the Captain had let his unfortunate prisoner loose from the iron grip with which he had till then detained him, and now stood calmly scrutinizing his suppliant.

"Oh, Captain de Vere, n.o.ble Captain de Vere, for the sake of old friendship, spare me, for the sake of the Earl, your departed sister, have pity on me, an aged, helpless man. Why should you take my life? I have done you no harm; leave me to finish my life in peace; spare me to my daughter. Oh! you have had your revenge in slaying my son, the hope of my age. Oh! stay your sword."

"Name not your son in the same breath with your abject supplications; he died a man, he had some pluck in him, but sirrah! you are a disgrace to your name--a disgrace to Britain, and all your entreaties will not move me. I will hang you on the next tree and rid the world of such a poltroon."

"Then if you have no mercy in your black heart--if you have no natural pity in your reptile blood--hear me as an Englishman. I tell you a heavy retribution will fall on you if you shed my blood. I am a Briton, and His Majesty's liege subject. I am his special servant; dread him, bold robber, he will send his armies and root such accursed bloodthirsty wolves from this country."

"Ha, you speak very fine, my brave fellow, but I scorn your threats as much as your entreaties. I have long renounced my allegiance to your besotted king; here his armies and navies are alike useless: besides, my bravo, who will tell his most sacred Majesty that his servant hangs like a felon on a nut-tree? But egad, we waste time arguing with a cowardly old miscreant like this. Pedro, swing him up on yon tree."

"You dare not--oh heavens! you dare not--the Earl--the King--oh, no, no," embracing the very hessians of the bandit. "Captain de Vere, for auld lang syne, pardon me, I know not what I say, hang me not like a dog."

"As you are one, that were no great fault; but perhaps you wish a little torture first. Pedro, Antonio, twist the rope round his forehead first, till his eyes start a little."

"Good G.o.d! you surely joke, you would not, you could not do so,"

exclaimed the unfortunate man, as he saw these desperados approach to fulfil their master's order.

"I joke not," replied the Captain; "you think I am a woman, and turn pale at the sight of blood. I have not been pirate and bandit a dozen years for nothing, by G--. I have not roamed torrid and temperate zone, or pitched shiploads of n.i.g.g.e.rs into the sea to grow sick at a little bloodshed, or merciful because an old coward asks for mercy. I have seen a dozen better men than thee, old dotard, tortured and beheaded, and think you I joke; ye G.o.ds, you will find me another man than you think.

Did you hear me, sirrahs? do my bidding, or Iddio! I'll serve you the same. And hark you, if he chatters for mercy any more, tear his vile tongue out by the roots."

These awful commands would doubtless have been carried out to the letter had not Adrian, or, as our readers must have already guessed, Edward L'Estrange, then stepped forward, and pleaded for an old friend.

"Nay, Luigi, hurt not the poor old imbecile, he is not worth your interest. Hands off, villains!" (to the two ruffians who were about to begin their work of butchery). "Heed them not, old man, I will not let them harm you, for the sake of old and better days."

"G.o.d bless you, Edward L'Estrange, you had ever a feeling heart! G.o.d bless you for befriending an old, and friendless man, who has fallen among thieves! G.o.d be merciful to you for saving a poor fellow creature's life!" exclaimed the poor man when his tormentors departed.

The Captain bit his lips. "You were ever a soft-hearted fool, and would be better occupied in wooing your lady-love, or in writing sonnets to another's bride, than aiding in any manly exploit; but, hark you, I will spare only his tortures--not his life. He fired at me, and by heaven he dies for it! I am captain here, no one shall countermand my orders."

"Edward L'Estrange, for the love of G.o.d, say something for me."

"I can do no more; he is captain. G.o.d knows if I was, your blood should not stain my hand; be thankful I have saved you from torture."

Poor Lennox thought he had small cause for thankfulness.

"Are we to loiter here all day? By heavens, my comrades! heard you ever such a noise about an old fool's life before? Egad, one would think there were two captains here. Every command is reversed! Which will you have as a leader--Adrian or me? Which will do most for you--he or I?

Whom will you obey? By G--, it's time there was some understanding."

"You, you, you shall be our chief, _al diavolo_ with Adrian, the faint-hearted fool!" exclaimed Pedro; all the rest a.s.sented.

"Then obey me only," said the Captain; "we shall have the sbirri here in half an hour more, unless we come to quarters. Here, hang, shoot, strangle, or behead yon rascally dotard--which will you have, Lennox?

there's store of deaths, choose away and be sharp! You are dumb, are you? Then I'll choose for you. Antonio cut his head off, and stick it on a pole; he ever soared high, he shall be higher after death than before it. Toss that carrion into the ravine," pointing to the postilion, "and whip off that lad's head, too, and stick it on a pole opposite his father's; and now for the girl."

We turn our backs on the scene that followed, and shut our ears to the heart-rending cries for mercy. Enough to say in less time than we have taken to write this, the heads of the unhappy father and son were cut off, and whilst the bleeding trunks were left as they lay, the ghastly heads were stuck on two poles, and elevated on either side of the road.

Turning a deaf ear and merciless eye to the butchery, the Captain approached the carriage, on the floor of which the hapless Caroline lay in a dead faint.

"Ha! not ill-looking by any means. Come, my girl, cheer up," applying some brandy to her nose, whilst another robber flung some water on the senseless girl's face. These restoratives had the desired effect, and the poor girl opened her eyes; at the same time crying out, "My poor father, is he alive? Oh! spare him, n.o.ble sirs!"