The Cornet of Horse: A Tale of Marlborough's Wars

"In the garden," the girl said, bursting into tears. "The wicked young man was rude to me, and wanted to kiss me, and Monsieur Rupert knocked him down, and then they began to fight, and I ran away."

Monsieur Dessin swore a very deep oath in French, and was about to hurry out with Colonel Holliday. Then he stopped, and putting his hand on the colonel's shoulder, said coldly:

"Do not let us hurry, sir. Monsieur Rupert has taken the matter in his hands. It is as well that he should kill this fellow as that I should have to do so."

Just at this moment they reached the door, and a young man came running up to the house shouting:

"Young Mr. Brownlow is killed. Help! help!"

"I think, Monsieur Dessin," Colonel Holliday said, stopping, "it would be as well if you and mademoiselle were for the present to leave us. There will be trouble enough, and the fewer in it the better. Sir William is a hot man, and you are not a cool one. Enough mischief has been done."

"You are right," Monsieur Dessin said. "Will you tell Monsieur Rupert that so long as my arm can lift a sword it is at his service, and that I am his debtor for life.

"Come, Adele, let us leave by the front of the house."

Colonel Holliday now hurried out into the garden, just as Sir William Brownlow, accompanied by his son's friend, rushed out of the house, followed by some lackeys with scared faces.

Not a word was spoken as they ran to the spot where young Brownlow was lying.

Sir William and Colonel Holliday both knelt beside him, and the latter put his finger to his pulse.

"He is not dead," he said, after a moment. "Ralph, saddle a horse, and ride with all speed to Derby for a doctor."

"Ay," Sir William said, "and tell the chief magistrate that he is wanted here, with one of his constables, for that murder has been done."

"You will do nothing of the sort," Colonel Holliday said.

"Sir William Brownlow, I make every excuse for you in your grief, but even from you I will permit no such word to be used. Your son has been wounded in fair fight, and whether he dies or not, alters the circumstances no whit. My grandson found him engaged in offering a gross insult to a young lady in the garden of my house. He did what I should have done had I so found him–he knocked him down. They fought, and your son was worsted. I think, sir, that for the credit of your house you had best be quiet over the matter.

"Hush, sir," he went on sternly, seeing that the baronet was about to answer furiously. "I am an old man, but I will put up with bluster from no man."

Colonel Holliday's repute as a swordsman was well known, and Sir William Brownlow swallowed his passion in silence. A door was taken off its hinges, and the insensible young man was carried into the house. There he was received by Mistress Holliday, who was vehement in her reproaches against Rupert, and even against Colonel Holliday, who had, as she said, encouraged him in brawling.

The colonel bent quietly before the storm; and leaving the wounded man in the care of his daughter-in-law and the attendants, made his way to the stables, to inquire what had become of Rupert. There he found that a few minutes before, Rupert, accompanied by Hugh Parsons, had ridden off at full speed, having placed valises and a brace of pistols in the holsters on their saddles. The colonel was glad to hear that Rupert had his humble friend with him, and doubted not that he had made for London. With a somewhat lightened heart he went back to the house.

After galloping fast for the first two miles, Rupert drew rein, for he had now time to think, and was assured that even should Sir William at once send into Derby for a warrant for his apprehension, he would be across the borders of the county long before he could be overtaken.

"Have you any money with you, Hugh?" he asked, suddenly; "for I have not a penny with me."

"I have only two shillings, Master Rupert. I got that yesterday in Derby for a nest of young owlets I found in the copse."

Rupert reined up his horse in dismay.

"Two shillings between us, Hugh! And it is 126 miles to London. What are we to do?"

Hugh thought a moment. "We can't go on with that, sir. Do you take these two shillings and ride on to the Red Dragon. You will be outside the county there. I will ride back to father's. It's under two miles, and I shall be back here in half-an-hour again. He will give me any money he may have in the house. I may as well fill my valise too, while I am about it; and he's got a pair of pistols, too, that he will give me."

It was clearly the best course to take, and Rupert trotted forward on his way, while Hugh galloped back at full speed. In a quarter of an hour the latter drew rein at his father's door.

"Hullo, Hugh, lad," the farmer, a hearty man of some fifty years of age, said, as he came to the door, "be'est thou? What art doing on the squire's horse? He looks as if thou had ridden him unmercifully, surely?"

In a few words Hugh related what had taken place, and told him of his own offer to go to the wars with Rupert.

"That's right, lad; that's right and proper. It's according to the nature of things that when a Holliday rides to the war a Parsons should ride behind him. It's always been so, and will always be so, I hope. Mother will grieve, no doubt; but she won't want to fly in the face of nature.

"Here, mother, come out. Master Rupert's killed Sir William Brownlow's son, and is off to the wars, and so our Hugh's, natural-like, going with him."

Mrs. Parsons after her first ejaculation of surprise burst into tears, but, as her husband had predicted, offered no objection whatever to what seemed to her, as to him, a matter of plain duty on the part of her son. Hugh now explained the reason of his return.

"Ay, ay, lad; thou shalt have the money. I've got fifty pounds for next quarter's rent. Colonel Holliday will be glad enough for some of it to go to his grandson. I'll gin ye half o't, Hugh, and take my chance of the colonel agreeing to it. I'll give'e as much more out of my old stocking upstairs. Put it carefully by, lad. Money is as useful in war as at other times, and pay ain't always regular; maybe the time may come when the young master may be short of money, and it may come in useful. Now put on thy riding coat; and mother will put thy best clothes in a valise.

"Bustle up, mother, there bain't no time to lose."

Thus addressed, Mrs. Parsons dried her tears and hurried away. Hugh, hitching the bridle over a hook, made his way to his room to change his clothes. When he came down, all was ready.

"Thy clothes are in the valise, Hugh. I have put on the holsters, and the pistols are in them. They are loaded, boy. In the bottom of one are the master's twenty-five pounds. Thy own money is in the valise. Here, boy, is my father's sword; it hasn't been used since Naseby, but it's a good blade. Thou art a deft hand at quarterstaff and singlestick, though, and I doubt not that thy hands can guard thy head. I need not say, Hugh Parsons, you will, if need be, die for thy master, for I know thou will do it, lad. Now kiss thy mother, boy; and God speed you."

A long embrace with his father and mother, and then Hugh, blinded by his tears, mounted his horse, and rode off in the track of Rupert.

After an hour's sharp riding he overtook him, at a wayside inn, just across the boundary between Derby and Leicestershire.

"Is it all right, Hugh?" he asked, as Hugh drew up at the door.

"All right, Master Rupert. Father has sent thee twenty-five pounds out of the rent that will be due at Lady day; and he doubts not that the colonel will approve of what he has done. H ow long have you been here?"

"Only some five minutes, Hugh. We had best let the horses feed, and then ride quietly into Leicester, it's only fifteen miles away. I see you've got a sword."

"A sword and pistols, Master Rupert; and as you have the same, methinks any highwayman chaps we might meet would think twice ere they venture to cry 'Stand and deliver.'"

"You heard no word of whether James Brownlow was alive or dead, Hugh? I should be very glad to hear that he is not killed."

"No word of the matter had come to the farm when I came away," Hugh said; "but I should not worry about it one way or the other, Master Rupert. You'll kill lots more when you get to the wars; and the country won't grieve over James Brownlow. Young as he was, he was a bad one; I've heard more than one dark story whispered of him. Folks say he took after his father, who was as wild and as bad as any man in Derbyshire when he was young."

Chapter 4: The Sedan Chair

"This is our last stage, Hugh, and tonight we shall be in London," Rupert said, as they rode out of Watford. "Methinks we shall find it very strange in that great city. I am glad I thought of asking our host the name of an inn at which to put up. The Bell in Bishopsgate Street, he said. It will seem less strange asking the way there than it would be to be wandering about gazing for a place at which to alight."

"Ay, truly, Master Rupert; and I've heard say those London folk are main fond of making game of strangers."

"So I have heard, Hugh; any reasonable jest we had best put up with with good temper. If they push it too far, we shall be able, I doubt not, to hold our own. The first thing to do will be to get clothes of the cut in vogue, for I have come away just as I stood; and I fear that even your clothes will have a marvellously country air about them in the eyes of the city folk.

"There is London," he said, as they passed over the crest of Hampstead Hill. "That great round dome that stands up so high must be Saint Paul's; and look how many other church towers and spires there are. And there, away to the right, those must be the towers of Westminster."

"It is a big place, surely, Master Rupert. How many people do you think live there?"

"I believe there are near 300,000 souls there, Hugh. It seems wonderful, does it not?"

"It's too big to think of, Master Rupert," Hugh said, and they continued their journey southward.