The Weird Of The Wentworths Volume Ii Part 19

"No, I am come on an important errand--I am a messenger with strange tidings."

"Of good I am sure, such a pretty herald could not bear ill tidings."

"Do not be too confident, my Lord; the bright sunset heralds in black night."

"Well, my love, you must tell me, and if I can do anything for you my help shall not be lacking."

"It is not here, my Lord, I can tell you; it is not me they concern, but yourself,--will you follow me?"

"Follow you--and whither? Really this is quite romantic and the hour well chosen! And what can concern me? Well, I will come if it is not far."

"It is far though; as far as the Val di Bovino."

"On my word, that is a long distance; and it is now getting late,--will not to-morrow do as well?"

"No, Signore,--to-night; it is of the utmost importance; you know not what hangs on your coming."

"But, my love, the Val is not a 'canny place,' as we say in Scotland; it is full of robbers. Now, I fear not for myself, but my life is of value to my family; it would not be safe nor right for me to go."

"You need not fear, Signore; no one will touch you. I have a free pa.s.s from Luigi; see here it is (showing a card with some masonic words written on it); you need have no fear with me."

"That alters it certainly. But let me at least tell my wife I am going."

"My Lord, time is precious; lose no more; every minute is of priceless value. Waste no more time, Signore!"

Certainly, thought the Earl, this is a curious predicament, and still there is something so romantic in it; I cannot help going,--and yet I may be doing wrong. But Leonora would not betray me; I am sure of her, safe as steel! But she may be the artless messenger of Luigi, and my life may be in peril. I do not value it at a straw for myself; but Ellen,--no, I ought not to go.

"Leonora, I am not justified in going with you. To-morrow I will meet you at the Val."

A shade of sorrow pa.s.sed over the young girl's face. "Alas! Signore; then you trust me not; you think I would lead you to peril. Farewell, Signore. I had thought differently of you; I am sadly mistaken. You have no confidence; farewell! You will never see your Leonora more, but you may repent your not following her!"

As she said these words, she mournfully turned away. It was not in mortal to resist any more.

"I wrong you, love, I do!" exclaimed the Earl. "Stay, I will come. I will follow you anywhere. There could not be treachery in such a brow!"

"Ah, you are like yourself again! The fearless, the confiding," said the girl, taking his hand and pressing her lips to it; "you will see you have nought to fear, for every hair of your head is dear to me as my life. But, Signore, make haste; we have kept away too long;--this way; no one must see us;--beneath the verandah, down the poplar avenue, and then away, away!" and the girl clapped her hands with delight.

"But stay, child,--my horse; I must get that; I am not going to walk!"

"Nor need you; but I have got a horse for you all ready; follow me--_presto prestissimo!_"

The Earl had just time to fling a cloak over his shoulders, and s.n.a.t.c.h up a hunting cap, ere she was out of sight. He then followed her quickly,--under the portico, down the avenue, and then through a small postern,--and he was outside his gardens, and the Apennines in front.

Still his fair guide moved on; she seemed to float rather than walk over the ground, towards a dark myrtle grove. By this time the sunlight had quite forsaken the west; the hills had re-a.s.sumed their dusky hue, and the full moon rising in the east began to shed a cold l.u.s.tre on the dew-bathed landscape. Still in the full vigour of manhood, strong, bounding in health, and with a mind ready for adventure, the Earl saw something delightful in the mystery of his errand; the loveliness of his guide, the hour, the place, the uncertain light of the moon, the originality of the whole--all was charming! But yet here was he, a peer of England, a husband of a fond wife, a father of a loving child, racing at night after a stranger almost, a pretty Italian girl, to a well-known haunt of robbers, to hear some wonderful story, or see some wonderful thing. It was ludicrous as well as romantic. He almost began to laugh at himself as he thought what the Marquis would think of him, and to be angry with himself when he thought what anxiety his freak would give Ellen. He had nearly forty miles to ride there and back, and supposing they did this in four hours' hard riding, allowing a couple of hours for delay and the time taken in revealing the secret, this would not bring him home till eleven at night, and during those six hours his wife would be wretched. But it was too late for regrets now; he was pledged to follow his guide. After all, he thought, I have often been later; she will but think I have gone to a friend's house, or the library.

Excusing himself thus, he followed Leonora still into the myrtle wood.

She at last stopped, and, taking a little ivory whistle from her bosom, blew a signal. In less than two minutes a suspicious-looking man, leading two horses, appeared.[E] He was dark and swarthy in appearance, with long hair and beard untrimmed, as well as fierce moustache; wore a pointed hat gaily decked with ribbons, a jacket of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, breeches of dark blue velvet slashed with crimson, buskins of leather, and long spurs on his heels; his bronzed complexion and fierce look argued him a dangerous fellow, perhaps a bandit; but a silken sash round his middle, stuck full of pistols, knives, and stilettos, and a musket slung on his back, proclaimed it too certainly. When the Earl saw this fellow, he began to think he had been over-ready to follow a stranger; however, Leonora looked incapable of treachery, and he still trusted her. He made friends with the man by slipping a gold piece into his hand as he took the bridle of his horse.

The bandit grinned as he saw it glitter on his palm, showing a white and regular set of teeth. The Earl then lifted his fair guide into her _selle_, which was covered with velvet richly embroidered with gold, gave the silken reins into her hand, and then prepared to mount his own steed. The horse he was to ride was a large and powerful Arab, coal black excepting a star of white on its forehead. The saddle and reins were of the finest leather, stamped with elegant designs. His guide's was a pretty jennet of the Andalusian breed, snow-white, with flowing mane and tail. She managed the skittish little animal with great address, and as the Earl followed slowly on his own n.o.ble charger, he thought he had never seen a prettier pair than guided him,--a more perfect horsewoman than his guide, a better bred animal than she rode on. The young girl gently walked her steed till beyond the confines of the wood, when she put out its powers more freely along a bye-path. It was not long ere they reached the main road, and then, waving her hand, she set off at a breathless speed and soon reached the gra.s.sy plains of the open country. The Earl, an experienced horseman, easily kept up with his guide, and he thought he had seldom pressed a n.o.bler horse than the one that bore him.

When they reached the plain, leaving the road, she dashed forward across the sandy ground; the Earl followed. Their horses drove the numerous herds of cattle that fed on the immense pasturage right and left before them. Lord Wentworth was in high spirits then, and enjoyed the gallop over the great common as every rider must, especially by moonlight. Then there was the romance of the ride, following a beautiful girl to an unknown place, and as his courser's hoofs spurned the sandy soil, he almost shouted the "Tallyho!" of old England in his glee. It was not long ere they reached the hills, that advanced like great barriers; it seemed as if they were inaccessible and not to be pierced; but as they drew nearer the Earl saw the gap of a river through the mountains, and dense woods of acacia, arbor vitae, and nut-trees became visible, as well as the road they had left.

Entering again on the resumed route, Leonora drew the reins to breathe her panting horse; he followed her example, and side by side they began to walk their horses up the road, gradually becoming steeper as it crossed the chain of hills. The moon was now getting high in the heavens, and shone with silver rays on the brown mountains and woods above and below them. It was dead silence all, save the flow of the river beneath chafing against its rocky sides, or the shrill cry of the _cicalas_, the rustle of the dried leaves stirred by the pa.s.sing wind, the tramp of the iron hoof, or the snort of the fiery animals they scarce compelled into a reluctant walk. Neither spoke a word; he was too busy with his own thoughts, the girl too modest to begin a conversation.

Slowly they paced upwards; the woods grew denser on either side; the mountains rose darker; the roar of the waters grew louder; but in silence they still rode on.

They had now reached the middle of the pa.s.s, and arrived at the scene of the morning's tragedy, of which the Earl as yet knew nothing. The first thing that caught his eye, was the carriage, which stood in lonely desertion in the middle of the road; some fifty paces ahead a little beyond it his eye caught a glimpse of two poles, one on either side of the road, bearing aloft their dread tokens of guilt and murder. The moon shone on the haggard features, and rendered them disgusting and horrid.

He shuddered as he saw them; on the road too he perceived numbers of bodies stretched in various groups. It was like a field of battle. As they approached, two or three dark animals rushed away into the woods,--they were wolves come down on their prey.

"What in G.o.d's name has occurred here?" said the Earl, as he now pa.s.sed directly beneath the poles, and with difficulty guided his horse amongst the numerous corpses.

"Some poor travellers whom the Vardarelli robbed and murdered to-day,"

answered the girl, with a _sang froid_ that seemed totally unlike her.

"My G.o.d!" exclaimed the Earl, "it is even so; these are my unhappy guests! It is Mr. Lennox and his wretched son--I know those ghastly heads! Leonora, I can go no further; those death-pale faces will long haunt me!"

"What, Signore, are you come so far, and afraid to go on? True, this is a sad sight--the marks of plunder, rapine, and murder,--but with me you need not fear."

"You understand me not: these are my friends--they have been cruelly butchered."

"I am sorry they were Signore's friends; but by following me you may gain much--even by finding out about them."

"Wretched girl!" exclaimed Lord Wentworth; "is it possible you belong to this fierce gang?--so young, so innocent-looking! Ha!" he continued, looking on her with changed expression, "I see it now. I have been decoyed--duped!--fool that I was to come alone, and unarmed. I shall be set on, and murdered, and my head stuck by those! I will at least give them a chase for it," and he turned his horse's head.

"Hear me," cried the girl, "you wrong me, Signore--you wrong me! I have not deserved this! Follow me still--judge not by appearances, they may be against me: you will live to prove my truth; only have faith in one who would not for worlds injure you."

"By my soul, you take me for a fool! No, no, fair maiden, prevention is better than cure--you shan't get my head without a run for it."

"Once more, listen, my Lord. To return alone, even on that fleet horse, is certain death;--these woods are full of those who never missed their aim; and to go on with me is your only chance; and I vow by the great G.o.d--by the blessed Virgin--not a hair of your head shall be injured! Do you believe me?--look at my face and see if truth is not written there.

Oh! for your own--my sake--follow on. I am not what I appear!"

The Earl looked at her; the moon shone full on her face--it was the face of a Madonna--no shade of falsehood there.

"I will follow--I will trust you; only remember, Signorina, if you deceive me you break your word, your oath, your honour,--lead on."

The mysterious guide[F] then reining her horse to the left, descended through the woods towards the river. He followed. The descent was difficult, and very steep; the moonlight hardly pierced the trees above.

"This girl," he thought, "is either the strangest and most faithful I ever met, or the worst arch-deceiver I ever was duped by."

After a toilsome descent, in which their horses often stumbled, they approached the river with its limestone cliffs, and emerged on an open green. Here Leonora dismounted, and motioned to the Earl to do the same.

She again blew the ivory whistle, a similarly-costumed bandit appeared, received the horses, and decamped as mysteriously as he came.

"Signore," said the girl, "you have promised to trust me; will you submit to be blindfolded, for you must no longer see the path you go?"

"Upon my soul, you are determined to give me cause to place my confidence in you: I suppose you will ask me next if I have any objection to be thrown in yonder river? However, have your way, I submit myself entirely to your honour."

Untying a gay scarf that bound her waist, she bandaged the Earl's eyes; then taking his hand led him forward.

The path down which she led him was rough, stony, and seemed extremely steep. By-and-by he was aware he was crossing a bridge, and heard the river swirl and roar beneath him; it seemed far below, as near as he could judge by his ear. His route then lay upward, and ere long he was aware he had bade adieu to the moonlight and open air. An involuntary shudder ran through him as he perceived he must now be in a cave, from the hollow sound, and the echoes of his clanking strides. His guide felt the thrill, at least he fancied she must have perceived it, from her almost immediately afterwards bidding him not to fear. For more than a hundred yards, as he judged, she led him on through this vault; then he began to distinguish sounds, which soon resolved themselves into voices and laughter: they grew more and more distinct, till he could almost catch the individual words; then a sudden turn in the pa.s.sage seemed to lead him away from them, and they grew more and more distant, till he lost the power of catching them any more.

He heard a footstep next, approaching, nearer and nearer, till it seemed beside him. His guide stopped, and spoke to the man in a language he did not understand. A gruff voice answered her. Another shudder ran through him as he thought he must now be in a den of robbers, and his life depended on the frail thread of a woman's word. Still he did not fear for himself; and he was determined that if, after all, he had been duped, he would try and sell his life dearly.