"We rob not the poor; we only rob the rich--those arrogant, purse-proud rogues who batten and fatten on what they wring from the poor," answered, in quick, scornful accents, the man who appeared to be the leader of this little band. "On them we have scant pity. They have but stolen, in cunning though lawful fashion, what we wrest from them, lawlessly it may be, yet with as good a right in the sight of the free heavens as any they practise. But we filch not gold nor goods from the poor, the thrifty, the sons of toil; nay, there be times when we restore to these what has been drained from them by injustice and tyranny. We be not the common freebooters of the road, who set on all alike, and take human life for pure love of killing. We have our own laws, our own ways, our own code of right and wrong; and we recruit our ranks from bold lads like you, upon whom fortune has not smiled, and who come to us to see if we can help them to better things."
Cuthbert was greatly interested in this adventure. He looked into the dark, handsome face of the man who rode beside him, and wondered if some gipsy blood might not run in his veins. The gipsy people of whom Kate had spoken were well known in all this region, and despite the roving life they led, appeared to be rooted to a certain extent to this wild and wooded tract. He had seen dark faces like this before in the woods; he had often heard stories of the doings of the gipsies around. Before, he had not thought much of this; but now, his interest was keenly excited, and he was delighted to have this opportunity of studying them at close quarters.
"Where are we going, Tyrrel?" asked one of the followers. "It is a bitter cold night, now the wind has shifted, and we are far enough away from Dead Man"s Hole."
"I am not bound for Dead Man"s Hole. We will to the ruined mill, and ask Miriam to give us shelter for the night. We have ridden far, and our steeds are weary. I trow she will give us a welcome."
This proposition seemed to give general satisfaction. The men plodded on after their leader, who kept Cuthbert close beside him, and they all moved across the heath in an irregular fashion, following some path known only to themselves, until they reached the wooded track to the left, and plunged into the brushwood again, picking their way carefully as they went, and all the while descending lower and lower into the hollow, till the rush of water became more and more distinctly audible, and Cuthbert knew by the sound that they must be approaching a waterfall of some kind.
One of the men had ridden forward to give notice of their approach, and soon in the flickering moonlight the gray walls of an ancient mill, now greatly fallen to decay, became visible to the travellers" eyes. From the open door streamed out a flood of ruddy light, cheering indeed to cold and weary men; whilst framed in this ruddy glow was a tall and picturesque figure--the figure of an old woman, a scarlet kerchief tied over her white hair, whilst her dress displayed that picturesque medley of colours that has always been the prevailing characteristic of the gipsy race.
"You are welcome, son Tyrrel," quoth the mistress of this lone dwelling, as the little cavalcade drew up at the door. "It is long since you favoured old Miriam with a visit. Yet you come at no ill time, since Red Ronald brought us in a fat buck but yesternight, and I have made oaten cakes today, and pies of the best. But who is that with you! I like not new faces in my dwelling place. It were well you should remember this ere you bring a stranger with you."
The old woman"s face suddenly darkened as she spoke these last words, and her wonderful eyes, so large and dark as to resemble rather those of a deer than a human being, flashed fiercely, whilst she seemed about to close the door in Tyrrel"s face. But he pushed in with a light laugh, leading Cuthbert with him, and saying as he did so:
"Nay, nay, mother, be not so fierce. He is an honest lad enough, I trow; if not, "twill be the worse for him anon. We have brought him hither to search him if he carries gold concealed. If not, and he proves to have spoken sooth, he may go his way or join with us, whichever likes him best. We could do with a few more bold lads, since death has been something busy of late; and he seems to have the grit in him one looks for in those who join with us. Moreover, he has the dark eyes, and would soon have the swarth skin, that distinguish our merry men all.
"How now, mother! Thou hast eyes for none but the lad! Why lookst thou at him so?"
Cuthbert, too, gazed wonderingly at the handsome old gipsy, who continued to keep her eyes fixed upon him, as if by a species of fascination. He could no more withdraw his gaze than can the bird whom the snake is luring to destruction.
"Boy, what is thy name?" she asked, in a quick, harsh whisper.
"Cuthbert Trevlyn," he answered, without hesitation, and at the name a wild laugh rang out through the vaulted room, illumined by the glow of a huge fire of logs, whilst all present started and looked at one another.
"I knew it--I knew it!" cried the old woman, with a wild gesture of her withered arms, which were bare to the elbow, as though she had been engaged in culinary tasks. "I knew it--I knew it! I knew it the moment the light fell upon his face. Trevlyn--Trevlyn! one of that accursed brood! Heaven be praised, the hour of vengeance has come! We will do unto one of them even as they did unto us;" and she waved her arms again in the air, and glanced towards the glowing fire on the hearth with a look in her wild eyes that for a moment caused Cuthbert"s heart to stand still. For he remembered the story of the witch burned by his grand sire"s mandate, and he felt he was not mistaken in the interpretation he had put upon the old woman"s words.
But Tyrrel roughly interposed.
"No more of that, mother," he said. "We have wiped out that old score long ago. The lad is a bold lad, Trevlyn or no. Let us to supper now, and forget those accursed beldam"s tales. Where is Long Robin, and what is he doing? and where is Joanna tonight?"
"Here," answered a clear, full voice from the shadows of the inglenook, and forth there stepped a very queenly-looking woman, in the prime of life, when youth"s bloom has not been altogether left behind, and yet all the grace of womanhood, with its dignity and ease, has come to give an added charm. One glance from the old woman"s face to that of the young one showed them to be mother and daughter, and it did not take a sharp eye to see that Tyrrel, as he was always called, was deeply enamoured of the beautiful Joanna, though treated by her with scant notice, and as though he were yet a boy, scarce worthy of being looked at or spoken to.
She stood in the glow of the fire, a tall, graceful presence, to the full as picturesque as her gipsy mother, and far more attractive. Cuthbert"s eyes turned upon her with an unconscious appeal in them; for it suddenly dawned upon him that for a Trevlyn to adventure himself amongst these wild gipsy folks was like putting the head into a lion"s mouth.
It almost seemed as though Joanna read this doubt and this fear; for a flashing smile crossed her dark face, and she held out a shapely hand to lead the guest to the table.
"Thou art welcome to our board, Cuthbert Trevlyn," she said, "as is any hapless stranger in these wilds, be he Trevlyn or no. Thou shalt eat our salt this night, and then woe betide the man who dares to lay hand on thee;" and such a glance was flashed around from her magnificent dark eyes as caused each one that met it to resolve to take good heed to his ways. "Thou shalt come and go unmolested; Joanna the Gipsy Queen has so decreed it!"
Every one present, the old woman included, bent the head at these words, and Cuthbert felt by some instinct that his life was now safe.
Chapter 5: The House On The Bridge.
"Keren Happuch."
"Yes, aunt."
The reply came only after a brief pause, as though the rosy-cheeked maiden at the cas.e.m.e.nt would fain have declined to answer to that abhorred name had she dared--which was indeed pretty much the case; for though it was undeniably her own, and she could not gainsay the unpalatable fact, n.o.body in the world but Aunt Susan ever aggrieved her by using it. Even her grave father had adopted the "Cherry" that was universal alike with relatives and friends, and the girl never heard the clumsy and odious appellation without a natural longing to box the offender"s ears.
"What art doing, child?" questioned the voice from below.
Now Cherry was undeniably idling away the morning hours by looking out of her window at the lively scene below; and perhaps it was scarce wonderful that the sights and sounds without attracted her. It was a sunny November morning, and the sun was shining quite hotly; for the soft wind from the south was blowing--it had suddenly veered round in the night--and all nature seemed to be rejoicing in the change. The river ran sparkling on its way to the sea; the barges and wherries, and larger craft that anch.o.r.ed in the stream or plied their way up and down, gave animation and brightness to the great water way; whilst the old bridge, with its quaint-timbered houses with their projecting upper stories, its shops with their swinging signs, and noisy apprentices crying their masters" wares or playing or quarrelling in the open street, and its throngs of pa.s.sers by, from the blind beggar to the gay court gallant, provided a shifting and endless panorama of entertainment to the onlooker, which pretty Mistress Cherry certainly appreciated, if no one else in that grave Puritan household did the like. But possibly she thought that her aunt"s question must not be too literally answered, for she hastily skipped across the panelled chamber, seized her distaff, and answered meekly;
"I am about to spin, aunt."
"Humph!" the answer sounded more like a grunt than anything else, and warned Cherry that Mistress Susan, her father"s sister, who had ruled his household for the past ten years, since the death of his wife, was in no very amiable temper.
"I know what that means. Thy spinning is a fine excuse for idling away thy time in the parlour, when thou mightest be learning housewifery below. Much flax thou spinnest when I am not by to watch! It is a pity thou wert not a fine lady born!"
Cherry certainly was decidedly of this opinion herself, albeit she would not have dared to say as much. She liked soft raiment, bright colours, dainty ways, and pretty speeches. Looking down from her window upon the pa.s.sers by, it was her favourite pastime to fancy herself one of the hooped and powdered and gorgeously-apparelled ladies, with their monstrous farthingales, their stiff petticoats, their fans, their patches, and their saucy, coquettish ways to the gentlemen in their train. All this bedizenment, which had by no means died out with the death of a Queen who had loved and encouraged it, was dear to the eyes of the little maiden, whose own sad-coloured garments and severe simplicity of attire was a constant source of annoyance to her. Not that she wished to ape the fine dames in her small person. She knew her place better than that. She was a tradesman"s daughter, and it would ill have beseemed her to attire herself in silk and velvet, even though the sumptuary laws had been repealed. But she did not see why she might not have a scarlet under-petticoat like Rachel Dyson, her own cousin, or a gay bird"s wing to adorn her hat on holiday occasions. The utmost she had ever achieved for herself was a fine soft coverchief for her head, instead of the close unyielding coif which all her relatives wore, which quite concealed their hair, and gave a quaint severity to their square and homely faces. Cherry"s face was not square, but a little pointed, piquant countenance, from which a pair of long-lashed gray eyes looked forth with saucy, mischievous brightness. Her skin was very fair, with a peach-like bloom upon it, and her pretty hair hung round it in a ma.s.s of red gold curls.
Cherry, it must be confessed, would have liked to leave her hair uncovered, but this was altogether against the traditions of her family. But she had contrived to a.s.sume the softly-flowing coverchief, more like a veil than a cap, which was infinitely becoming to the sweet childish face, and allowed the pretty curls to be seen flowing down on either side till they reached the shoulders. For the rest, her dress was severely plain in its simplicity: the snow-white kerchief, crossed in front and made fast behind; the under-petticoat of gray homespun, just showing the black hose and buckled shoes beneath; and the over-dress of sombre black or dark brown, puffed out a little over the hips in the pannier fashion, but without any pretence at following the extravagances of the day. The sleeves b.u.t.toned tightly to the lower arm, though wider at the cuff, and rose high upon the shoulder with something of a puff. It was a simple and by no means an unbecoming style of costume; but Cherry secretly repined at the monotony of always dressing in precisely the same fashion. Other friends of her own standing had plenty of pretty things suited to their station, and why not she? If she asked the question of any, the answer she always got was that her father followed the Puritan fashions of dressing and thinking and speaking, and that he held fine clothes in abhorrence. Cherry would pout a little, and think it a hard thing that she had been born a Puritan"s daughter; but on the whole she was happy and contented enough, only she did reckon the rule of Aunt Susan in her father"s house as something of a hardship.
But it did not do to offend that worthy dame, who was the very model of all housewives, and whose careful management and excellent cookery caused Martin Holt"s house to be something of a proverb and a pattern to other folks" wives. So now the girl replied submissively:
"I need not spin, an it please thee not, aunt. Hast thou aught for me to do below?"
"Ay, plenty, child, if thou canst give thy mind to work. Abraham Dyson and Anthony Cole sup with us tonight, and I am making a herring pie."
A herring pie was a serious undertaking in the domestic economy of the house on the bridge, and Mistress Susan prided herself on her skill in the concoction of this delicate dish above almost any other achievement. She had a mysterious receipt of her own for it, into the secret of which she would let no other living soul, not even the dutiful nieces who a.s.sisted at the manufacture of the component parts. Cherry heaved a sigh when she heard what was in prospect, but laid aside her distaff and proceeded to don a great coa.r.s.e ap.r.o.n, and to unb.u.t.ton and turn back her sleeves, leaving her pretty round white arms bare for her culinary task. But there was a little pucker of perplexity and vexation on her forehead, which was not caused by any distaste of cookery.
"If Uncle Abraham comes, sure he will bring Jacob with him; he always does. If it were Rachel I would not mind; but I cannot abear Jacob, with his great hairy hands and fat cheeks. And if I be pert to him, my father chides; and if I be kind, he makes me past all patience with his rolling eyes and foolish ways and words. I know what they all think; but I"ll none of him! He had better try for Kezzie, who would jump down his throat as soon as look at him. She fair rails on me for not treating him well. Let her take him herself, the loutish loon!"
And tossing her head so that her coverchief required readjusting, Cherry slipped down the narrow wooden staircase into the rooms that lay below.
Kitchen and dining parlour occupied the whole of this floor, which was not the ground floor of the house. That was taken up by the shop, in which Martin Holt"s samples of wools and stuffs were exposed. He was more (to borrow a modern expression) in the wholesale than the retail line of business, and his shop was nothing very great to look at, and did not at all indicate the scope of his real trade and substance; but it was a convenient place for customers to come to, to examine samples and talk over their orders. Martin Holt sat all day long in a parlour behind the shop, pretty well filled with bales and sacks and other impedimenta of his trade, and received those who came to him in the way of business. He had warehouses, too, along the wharves of Thames Street, and visited them regularly; but he preferred to transact business in his own house, and this dull-looking shop was quite a small centre for wool merchants, wool manufacturers, and even for the farmers who grew the wool on the backs of the sheep they bred in the green pastures. No more upright and fair-dealing man than Martin Holt was to be found in all London town; and though he had not made haste to be rich, like some, nor had his father before him, having a wholesome horror of those tricks and shifts which have grown more and more common as the world has grown older, yet honest dealing and equitable trading had had its own substantial reward, and wealth was now steadily flowing into Martin"s coffers, albeit he remained just the same simple, una.s.suming man of business as he had ever been when the golden stream of prosperity had not reached his doors.
But the ground floor of the bridge house being occupied in business purposes, the first floor had of necessity been given up to cookery and feeding. The front room was the eating parlour, and was only furnished by a long table and benches, with one high-backed armchair at either end. It overlooked the street and the river, like the living parlour above; and behind lay the kitchen, with a back kitchen or scullery beyond. From the windows of either of these back rooms the busy cooks could fling their refuse into the river, and exceedingly handy did they find this, as did likewise their neighbours. Nor did the fact that the river water was drunk by themselves and a large number of the inhabitants of the city in any way interfere with their satisfaction at the convenience of these domestic arrangements. The beat, beat of the great water wheel was always in their ears to remind them; but no misgivings had yet a.s.sailed our forefathers as to the desirability of drinking water polluted by sewage and other abominations. True, the plague was constantly desolating the city, and had been raging so violently but a single year back that the King"s coronation had well nigh had to be postponed, and he dared not adventure himself into London itself, nor summon his Parliament to meet him there. But it was for another generation to put together cause and effect, and wonder how far tainted water was responsible for the spread of the fatal malady.
As Cherry entered the eating parlour, her two sisters looked up from their tasks, as if with a smile of welcome. Jemima was busy with the almond paste, which was an important ingredient of the herring pie; Keziah was stoning the dates, grating the manchet, and preparing the numerous other ingredients--currants, gooseberries, barberries--which, being preserved in bottles in the spring and summer, were always ready to hand in Mistress Susan"s cookery. From the open door of the kitchen proceeded a villainous smell of herrings, which caused Cherry to turn up her pretty nose in a grimace that set Keziah laughing. Both these elder damsels, who were neither blooming nor pretty nor graceful, like their youngest sister, though they bid fair to be excellent housewives and docile and tractable spouses, delighted in the beauty and wit and freshness of Cherry. They had never envied her her pretty ways and charming face, but had taken the same pleasure in both that a mother or affectionate aunt might do. They spoke of her and thought of her as "the child," and if any hard or disagreeable piece of work had to be done, they both vied with each other in contriving that it should not fall to Cherry"s lot.
Cherry, although she dearly loved her homely sisters, as well she might, never could quite realize that they were her sisters, and not her aunts. Although Keziah was only six years her senior, it seemed more like ten, and Jemima had three years" start of Keziah. They treated her with an indulgence rare between sisters, and from the fact of their being so staid and grave for their years, Cherry could scarcely be blamed for feeling as though she was the only young thing in the house. Her father talked of grave matters with her aunt and sisters, whilst she sat gaping in weariness or got a book in which to lose herself. They understood those mysterious theological and political discussions which were a constant source of perplexity and irritation to Cherry.
"As if it mattered one way or another," she would say to herself. "I can"t see that one way is a bit better than another! I wonder folks can care to make such a coil about it."
"Hast come to help us with the pie, Cherry?" asked Jemima kindly. "There, then, take my place with the paste; "tis almost ready, but would do with a trifle more beating. And there be fowls to draw and get ready for the oven, and I know thou lovest not such a task."
Cherry shuddered at the thought, and gladly took Jemima"s place, tasting the almond with an air of relish, and going about her tasks with a dainty air that would have angered Aunt Susan, but which honest Keziah regarded with admiration.
"How many be coming to supper tonight?" asked Cherry. "Is it to be a gathering?"
"Nay, I scarce know. I have only heard what aunt said to thee. Father spoke of guests without saying the number, and she said our uncle would be there, and Master Anthony Cole and his son. Whether there be any others I know not; belike Rachel and Jacob may come too."
"Now I am sore puzzled anent this Anthony Cole," said Cherry, as she beat her paste and leaned towards Keziah, so that her voice might not carry as far as the kitchen.