The Brown Mask Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  SEDGEMOOR AND AFTERWARDS

  Lentfield Manor, on the borders of Dorsetshire, was a square house setagainst a background of woods, with an expanse of park land in front ofit. There was no particular beauty about it; indeed, it had a drearylook, and evidences of economy were not wanting. Thomas Crosby, never atany time to be reckoned a wealthy man, had expended much in the cause ofthe Parliament, and had left his son Gilbert a comparatively poor man.Within, the house was spacious and comfortable, with many a hiding-placein it which had been turned to account before now, and, if the furniturehad grown shabby and showed its age unmistakably, Gilbert had become soaccustomed to it that he hardly noticed its deficiencies. Lenfield wasthe home he loved, and this fact touched it, and everything in it andabout it, with magical colours. Lately he had had visions of a fairwoman descending the low, broad stairs, smiling at him as she came; infancy he had seen her flitting from room to room, filling them withlaughter and sunshine. So much power had a length of white ribbon whichhad once belonged to such a woman.

  Crosby returned to Lenfield by many by-roads, more careful, even, thanhe had been when riding towards Bridgwater. Once he had turned aside toavoid a band of militiamen, for he had no desire to be questioned. Thisinsurrection in the West would bring suspicion on many an innocentperson, and Thomas Crosby had been so well known a Puritan that it wouldbe well for his son to be found at home when he was inquired for. IfKing James persisted in his struggle for popery, there was a muchgreater rebellion than Monmouth's to come, infinitely more far-reaching.In that outburst Gilbert Crosby intended to play his part, but untilthen he would safeguard himself as much as possible. There would berefugees from Monmouth's ragged army presently, he must help them if hecould, but he would play no part in active rebellion.

  An old man, who had been servant to the Crosbys when Gilbert was born,met him in the hall.

  "I've been anxious, Master Gilbert," he said, "very anxious indeed, andthe Lord be praised that you've returned in safety. I began to fear youmight have ridden West to join Monmouth."

  "Why should you think that, Golding?"

  "When one is anxious one thinks of all the worst things that couldpossibly happen."

  "It seems that they fight in a good cause, Golding."

  "Don't let a soul hear you say so, Master Gilbert. They've arrested twohundred or more in London already, honest merchants many of them, andthey say the gaol at Oxford is full of prisoners. No Puritan is reallysafe in these days."

  "You've heard far more than I have, Golding. Who has brought you suchnews?"

  "A gentleman who came to see you yesterday," the man answered. "Hecalled me a round-headed old scoundrel, but I think there was no malicein it."

  "Who was he?"

  "He gave no name, but he wrote you a letter. I told him you were inLondon, and that I was hourly expecting your return."

  "I did not say I had ridden to London," said Crosby.

  "No, Master Gilbert, but he asked me where you were, and I thought itbest to be definite."

  "Where is this mysterious stranger's letter?"

  Gilbert Crosby looked at the writing on the outside, which told himnothing. The contents mystified him, and he had no knowledge of the manwho signed it.

  "Sir," he read, "I have waited for you, having broken my journey to theWest against these rebels on purpose to see you. This I have done, atsome hazard to myself, at the bidding of one who honours me withcommands. Since I cannot see you I must needs write, a dangerousproceeding, but your servant seems honest. Know then, sir, that you haveenemies, men who will seek to find occasion to accuse you of disloyalty,and they may well find an easy opportunity now that Monmouth has landed.You are likely to be accused of helping his venture, and will know howbest to secure yourself against such an accusation. For myself I knownothing of your aims, but the person who commands me believes youincapable of a base action, and would do you a service. This manor ofyours is too near the West to be a safe place for you with an enemy sobent on your overthrow, and I am commanded to suggest that, for thepresent, you go to London and give no occasion for suspicion. The trustI have in my employer in this matter compels me to urge you to take heedof this letter, and moreover to offer you my help if at any time I canbe of service to you.--Yours most obediently, Sydney Fellowes."

  "The danger I can understand," Crosby murmured, having read the letter asecond time; "the meaning of this gentleman's warning is beyond mycomprehension. I have no knowledge of him, and who can the person be whocommands him?"

  "May I inquire if the communication is serious, Master Gilbert?" Goldingasked presently.

  "No, no, a kindly message from a man who would do me a service," Crosbyanswered. "If I am inquired for, Golding, at any time, or by anyone,show no hesitation, but bring them to me at once; we have nothing tohide at Lenfield," and then, when the old man had gone, he added, "atpresent, at any rate."

  During the following days Crosby did not move abroad, did not leave thegrounds of the manor except to walk into the village and gather any newshe might. It was meagre enough, and was always to the effect thatMonmouth was hard pressed. It was sadly told, too, for in the villagethe sympathy was with the Duke.

  Doubtless through the length and breadth of the land there was sympathy,but it had little power to help. It did not bring arms to the rebelcamp; it did not bring the men Monmouth had expected to fly to hisstandard. He knew, no one better, that with such an army as he possessedthere could be no real success. His one hope was that, by holding outand perchance by driving back the enemy in some skirmish which might getmagnified into an important engagement, the men he so longed for--thegreat body of the Whigs--would be persuaded to flock to him. He did notlet go this hope even after Crosby's visit to Bridgwater. The one thinghe could not afford was to be inactive, so he marched to Glastonbury,then to Wells, then to Shepton Mallet, harassed the whole way by ahandful of troops under Churchill, drenched by continuous and heavyrain. Then he turned to seize Bristol, but, checked at Keynsham, heturned towards Wiltshire. Bath shut its gates against him, and at PhilipNorton Feversham was close upon his heels. For one wild moment hecontemplated an advance on London, but fell back on Wells, and fromthere returned to Bridgwater. Ten days of constant marching had weariedan army ill-prepared for such toil, and nothing had been accomplished.

  This was the news that filtered through to Lenfield, and Crosby waitedfor the great disaster which he knew must come.

  Feversham, with the King's forces, lay encamped on Sedgemoor, and withhim were some of the very men who had fought with Monmouth at BothwellBridge. As Monmouth surveyed the position of the enemy from the top ofBridgwater Church there leapt into his heart a wild hope that these menmight desert and fight by his side in the day of battle. A desperatecourage came to him. Feversham was not a general to inspire trust in hismen; it was said that the camp was full of drunkenness. With drunkensoldiers to command even Churchill might find ill-armed but enthusiasticpeasants too much for him. The time to strike had come. Heaven itselflent aid to the rebels, for the night brought a thick fog over Sedgemooras Monmouth left Bridgwater for the last time. Not a drum beat to theattack, not a shot was fired; only the word "Soho" was whispered thatmen might recognise their friends in the darkness.

  Two of the broad trenches which intersected the moor, and where the fogwas thickest, were crossed in silence, but there was a third, protectingthe camp, of which Monmouth knew nothing. The check brought confusion,and some man in his excitement fired a pistol. The battle had begun, andalthough the camp was taken by surprise, and drink made many heavysleepers, the drums beat quickly to arms and the peasant warriors hadlittle advantage. Grey's motley cavalry was scattered in a moment, andLord Rosmore, who was amongst those who charged upon them, laughedaloud. This was a rabble, not an army.

  But while darkness lasted the peasants did not lose heart. Monmouth wasin the midst of them, fighting with them, pike in hand. He might knowthat the battle was lost, might long for some friendly enemy to de
al himhis death blow. His enterprise would fail, but his end would beglorious. Men fell on every side of him, while he remained untouched,and ever the light grew stronger in the east. The light meant defeat;Monmouth knew it. Death would not come to him, and life suddenly seemedprecious. They still fought, these soldiers of his; the scythes were redwith blood; the Mendip miners still faced the enemy, and were cut downas they stood; and Monmouth in his flight turned for a moment to lookback, and shuddered. His courage was gone. Fear took hold of him, and,hiding the blue riband and his George, he galloped away with Grey andBuyse, first towards the Bristol Channel, and then, turning, madetowards Hampshire. He remembered that Gilbert Crosby had promised tofind him a hiding-place, and if he could reach Lenfield he might besafe. The pursuers followed hard after him, Lord Rosmore amongst them,and he, too, thought of Lenfield Manor and Gilbert Crosby.

  No news reached the village on the Sunday or the Monday. Crosby waitedanxiously. The last he had heard was that Feversham was on Sedgemoor andthat a battle was imminent. He walked through the woods to the highroad, and if he saw a peasant whose face was unfamiliar, waited for himlest he should prove a fugitive and bring news. On Tuesday Lenfield knewthat Sedgemoor had been fought and lost, and that Monmouth was afugitive. In which direction he had fled was not known, but Crosbyhazarded a guess and rode some distance towards Cranbourne Chase.

  "Be careful, Master Gilbert," Golding whispered. "They've arrested menon less suspicion than you're giving occasion for."

  Crosby was quite aware of this, but he had made a promise. He had notbeen prepared to fight for a rebellious Monmouth, but he was prepared torisk much now that he was defeated and a fugitive. Still, he wentcarefully, not seeking danger, and soon had reason to be convinced thatMonmouth had fled in the direction of Lenfield. Men of the SomersetMilitia were beating the country, and Crosby barely escaped falling inwith them.

  When he returned to the Manor at nightfall Golding was full of news.Lord Grey of Wark had been taken that morning, but Monmouth was still atlarge.

  "But he is surrounded, Master Gilbert; there is no escape for him."

  "No one has been to the Manor?" Crosby asked.

  "No; but there have been scouts in the neighbourhood all day. Luke theblacksmith saw them and told me. They don't expect Monmouth to come toLenfield, do they, Master Gilbert?"

  "It seems certain that he has come in this direction, Golding."

  "Then stay you at home, Master Gilbert," pleaded the old man.

  "Nonsense. The presence of a few militia-men in the neighbourhood is nocause for fear. Tell them to let me have my horse at dawn."

  Crosby did not sleep that night. Monmouth might come under cover of thedarkness, and he waited and listened through the long hours. At break ofday he was in the saddle again, but did not ride far afield. He hardlyleft his own land, and it was evident that Lenfield was surrounded. Inthe afternoon he returned home, unconscious that Monmouth had been takenduring the morning, found in a ditch clad in a shepherd's dress, and wasalready on his way to Ringwood.

  "Monmouth is taken," whispered Golding as Crosby dismounted.

  "How do you know that? Who told you?"

  "A man who came two hours ago. He is waiting."

  "Is he a friend, do you think, Golding?"

  "I do not know," Golding answered. "He said he would wait until youcame, and then demanded to be taken to the stables, where he tended hisown horse. A masterful man, Master Gilbert, but whether a friend or anenemy who can tell?"

  "We will soon see," said Crosby; and as he turned to go to this strangerGolding laid a hand on his arm.

  "If there is danger, Master Gilbert, call. I have lost some strengthwith the passing of years, but I have never lost my ability to shootstraight," and he just showed him the butt of a pistol in the pocket ofhis coat.

  Crosby patted him on the shoulder and went to his persistent anduninvited guest, wondering whether Monmouth were really taken, whetherthis might not be he.

  Men still surrounded Lenfield. It was whispered amongst them that,although Monmouth was a prisoner, there was another important traitoryet to capture. They had been told so by Lord Rosmore, under whosecommand they were. Now they were ordered to draw in closer, and to takeanyone who attempted to escape.

  "Capture him if possible, but, if not, shoot him down," was Rosmore'scommand. Then, with a dozen men, he rode across the stretch of park landto the front entrance of the Manor. He made no attempt to surround it insuch a manner that those within might take alarm. His men were in thewoods, escape was impossible.

  There was some little delay in answering his summons, and then a servantcame to the door.

  "Is your master, Mr. Gilbert Crosby, within?"

  "I think he is asleep, sir; but will you be pleased to enter?"

  The girl looked innocent enough, but Lord Rosmore was too well versed inartifice not to be cautious.

  "My horse is restive, as you see. Will you request your master to comeout and speak with me for a moment?"

  The girl curtsied and departed with her message, leaving the door open.

  "He suspects nothing," Rosmore whispered to a man beside him.

  "I am not so certain," was the answer, "since the door is left soinvitingly open. It would be natural to enter, and an ambush might awaitus within. That girl was over simple to be natural, it seemed to me."

  "Keep watch upon the windows above, some of you," said Rosmore in a lowtone. "If this is a well-baited trap we are not such fools as to walkinto it."

  The girl reappeared and came across the hall.

  "I cannot find my master," she said. "He will be in the gardenssomewhere. Will you not come in and wait?"

  For a moment Rosmore hesitated, and then dismounted. He called to two orthree men to come with him.

  "If you see him coming tell him we are within," he said to the others."Now, my girl, we will see if we can find your master," and he caughther roughly by the arm. "Where is he hiding, eh?"

  "Hiding?"

  "Yes, pretty innocence; and unless you tell me quickly I shall have tobare these shoulders of yours and see what the taste of a whip canaccomplish."

  At that moment there was a shout from the men without, and Rosmorerushed back to them. A horseman had suddenly ridden from the stables atthe far end of the house.

  "Where's that scoundrel Rosmore?" he cried. "He would take Crosby ofLenfield, would he? Well, now is his chance; and in taking him he willcapture an even more notorious person, whom, rumour says, he has longdesired to meet."

  "Now I know!" Rosmore exclaimed as he flung himself into the saddle."After him, and shout, all of you, to put the men in the woods on thealert."

  The horseman turned and galloped across the park in a slantingdirection.

  "Don't ride too close, Rosmore," he shouted over his shoulder, "for Iseldom miss the mark I aim at."

  He suddenly altered his course. It was deftly done, and served to gainhim a few yards on his pursuers.

  "To the right and left to cut him off!" cried Rosmore. "We have him. Thechase is over before it has well begun."

  Well might he say so, for the fugitive was galloping straight towards astiff fence that few horses would face and few horsemen would hazardtheir necks over.

  He turned again and laughed, but rode straight on. The next moment, withinches to spare, the gallant animal had cleared the fence and droppedinto the wood beyond.

  A cry of wonder came from the men who were following him, a curse fromLord Rosmore, for the rider was the highwayman Galloping Hermit, andwore the brown mask.