Legends of Lancashire. Peter Landreth
but it was given in an obsequious and reverential tone.
“But Derby, and his companions—”
“Your excellency,” returned Seaton, “they shall be taken care of. Though the night is not dark, still, dangers beset their way back to the camp; and since their health is valuable, we must not expose them beyond the limits of Houghton Tower. We are good nurses, and are generally able to lull all whom we love, into a long and sound sleep. Fear not—they are safe;”—and he laughed in scorn.
After a moment’s pause, the stranger replied, “Seaton, you speak of sleep; let us then think of a bed for them. I have heard of a deep draw-well in the court; they would not be disturbed there. ’Twill but keep them from a sea of blood, into which, heaven assisting me, the royalists must soon be plunged, and drowned, like Pharoah’s host, in the red sea—aye, red indeed! But, Seaton, see that these three men do not quit the tower; their troopers shall be an easy prey—they are sheep without a shepherd.”
“Fear not,” the Colonel again said; “they are safe. They have been men of blood, and it is but befitting them, that they should undergo a cleansing. The ruffian Tyldesley pointed out to me some stains of blood upon his armour—aye, the blood of our companions: the well shall wash them out. Your excellency shall triumph over all your enemies.”
“Again,” interrupted his companion, “I charge it upon you. I am not wont to come unattended, but, at present, I have run every hazard, encountered every danger, to learn how our cause prospers. The enemy is in our power. Seaton shall defeat Derby at Houghton Tower, and his general shall defeat Charles at Worcester.”
The stranger here spoke in a soothing and flattering tone. He added a few more words, but they were inaudible. The speakers then trod to and fro, upon the battlements, conversing with each other in whispers. Sometimes the stamp of the stranger was heard enforcing his words.
The fair Anne, concealed with her attendant, behind the engine, had listened in terror to the preceding conversation. She saw that they were surrounded by the most artful plots, managed by powerful and experienced agents; that the cause for which she had so long implored the assistance of heaven, was in the greatest danger; that her father, and young Tyldesley, whom she did not now blush to think of as a very dear friend, with his uncle, and Derby, must perish; and that she herself was at the mercy of stern and unflinching ruffians. But how could she inform them of treachery, when the traitors were walking near the place of her concealment? Every moment seemed an hour; and, perhaps, it was then being determined that every royalist in the tower, should be dragged by the garrison, to a disgraceful end! She was almost frantic with impatience, and she knew, likewise, that one slight movement of her posture, as well as a whisper, might betray her.
Again the two republicans stood opposite to the place where the females were concealed, and their conversation could be heard.
“All is safe,” said the stranger. “A few hours will bear me to my men, assured that no enemy can annoy me in the rear; and before me is the hungry skeleton of a wandering king. Pity that the royal fool will not become my groom. He should be fed and clad, and I might, eventually, raise him to hold my stirrup.” There was intense mockery in his tones. He continued—“aye, and when his time allowed him to sport, I might procure him a gilded staff for his sceptre, and he might crown himself, with straw from the manger—the Lord’s anointed!”
Not a smile passed over the face of the speaker, and Seaton, was silent. The words were too earnest to be taken as humourous sallies. The stranger resumed—“He returns again to England. Poor fool! Nature seems to have beheaded him at his birth! and all that the Lord’s people can do, is to bury him.” The speaker’s scorn here seemed to increase, until he became silent. Colonel Seaton ventured to inquire—
“Your excellency departs early?”
“In a few minutes hence,” was the reply. “I may be suspected;—as I entered the hall, Derby seemed to recall my features. The dead, methinks, have a better cause to bear me in memory, than the living. Yet Derby should recollect me; I once crossed swords with him, disguised in habit, but not in countenance; and to a singular incident he owed his safety. He fought bravely, and I should have dispatched him gallantly, had—but this avails not now. He seems to know me.”
“Nay,” replied Seaton, “he spoke kindly to you after I explained the purport of your visit. Let us return to the hall for a little.”
“Why?” asked the stranger proudly;—“to be discovered? and then the stay of England’s army and England’s freedom would be broken! No, I mount horse instantly.”
“Your hasty departure may excite suspicion, and frustrate our schemes.”
“ ’Tis well. I go to bid them adieu, a long adieu; ’tis probable that I may never see them more. I am not in the habit of searching wells, there to renew old acquaintanceship.”
They passed on. Anne started up from her concealment. Not a moment was to be lost, after the republican disappeared in the distance. But alas! she could gain admittance to the hall by no other way than that which they had taken. She reached the hall door—she heard her father, in a loud and merry tone of voice, pledge the health and safety of the stranger. For a moment she stood irresolute, when Seaton and his companion appeared. “Fair maid,” said the stranger, “receive my wishes and prayers, as I bid you adieu.” In a moment he was gone, and she rushed into the hall.
“Speak not! ask no questions, noble warriors!” she exclaimed. “We are betrayed! Yes, father, that stranger you have harboured as a guest, is a republican, and Seaton has been acting as his spy. The garrison are likewise traitors, and from us all escape is cut off—”
“I knew that it was Cromwell,” replied Derby, as he started from his seat, “but heaven grant that he is not yet beyond our reach; I’ll die in capturing him! My friends, let us pursue!”
He drew his sword, and every sign of feebleness left his frame. Attended by his two companions, and the governor, he rushed forth, exclaiming “treason! treason!”
Fiery and impatient were their spirits, and as hasty their steps. They came within sight of the drawbridge. It was up: and as they rushed forward, a horseman spurred his steed across it, and it again fell, and all communication was prevented. Cromwell had escaped! and in the bitterness of disappointment Derby and the governor stood bewildered, and thought not of securing the traitor Seaton. They returned to the hall without perceiving that Sir Thomas Tyldesley had left them, until the inquiries of Anne rendered them aware of his absence. When they were alternately expressing their disappointment at Cromwell’s escape, and their surprise as to what had befallen the knight, a shriek was heard, as coming from the nearest turret. Anne exclaimed, “the garrison are traitors, and they are now slaying Sir Thomas.”
“Nay, lady,” said the earl, “Tyldesley must first become coward, ere a shriek escape him, though tortured beyond endurance. He would express triumph even in death. But let us hasten. Fair lady, you may be safer under our protection than in the hall. Lean on Harry’s arm, it is the arm of a soldier—come;” and they hastened to the place whence the noise proceeded. The moon shone full on their faces, and gave them, to the gaze of each other, a strange mystery. A step was heard in the distance, and soon Sir Thomas Tyldesley stood before them, with his naked sword in his hand. He bade them follow. He halted at the distance of a hundred yards, and raising up an object which lay motionless, revealed the lifeless body of Seaton. He tossed it down; and there it lay, with ghastly features, all marked with blood, turned upon the spectators. A sword was beside the body: the knight grasped it, and said—
“The traitor fell by his own weapon. Thrice through the heart I stabbed him with it, for I would not wound him with a sword which I received from our late master.”
“He richly deserved a thousand deaths,” ejaculated the governor.
“Richly indeed,” replied Tyldesley, “had all his villainy been comprehended in this night’s treachery. He lowered the drawbridge, and while we stood astonished and motionless with anger, attempted to retreat. I followed him. He