The Lost Treasure of Trevlyn: A Story of the Days of the Gunpowder Plot

Sir Richard found it easier to remember that the treasure had been stolen and hidden by the gipsy people than that it had been restored partly through the assistance of the woman Joanna, the queen. However, there was little time for further talk. The night was already advanced, and on the morrow they were to make as early a start as was practicable.

Sir Richard had not many servants of his own, but Culverhouse could bring a good dozen men with him. Unluckily the storm raged all through the earlier hours of the following day, and it was not till noon that a start could be made. However, the seventeen miles' ride could be easily made before dark, although the roads were deep in mud, and travelling in the open country was both tedious and bad.

The last of the scattered hamlets had been passed. The sun glowed red before them in an angry, lowering sky. Sir Richard and his son and Lord Culverhouse paused on the brow of the ridge to look both before and behind. They had in their impatience outridden their servants, who, less well mounted, found some difficulty in spurring along the deep mire of the ill-made roads. They could but just see them on the horizon of the last ridge, coming onwards at an even jog trot, which seemed the swiftest pace they aspired to.

Before lay the long waste of forest-trees and heather intermixed in long stretches alternating one with the other. A good seven miles lay between them and their destination, and the sun was already nearing the horizon, and would soon dip behind it.

"We must push on something faster," said Culverhouse impatiently, "if we are to reach Cross Way House before dark."

"We have already far outridden our men," said Sir Richard, frowning slightly as he turned his head to look over his shoulder; "and this is the worst part of the road before us."

"But we are well mounted and well armed," urged Culverhouse, "and if we wait for the men we shall lose the rest of the daylight. Surely if there be any footpads about, the fact that we are followed by so goodly a train will serve to scare them away. And we have no valuables upon our persons. They will get cold steel and hot lead for their pains, an they venture to molest us, instead of silver or gold."

"Very true," said Philip, who was as eager as his cousin and endued with full share of Trevlyn courage and impetuosity; "we can never wait till those sluggards have come up. The fault is not theirs: they are not so well mounted as ourselves. We shall never keep our horses to their pace, try we never so hard."

"Forward then, and let us ride as fast as our steeds can carry us!" said Sir Richard with a smile; "for if we wait not for our men, the daylight is our best friend. We are all familiar with the road, and our horses likewise. Forward! and all eyes keep a sharp lookout to left and right. At least we will not be set upon unawares."

Putting spurs to their horses very gladly, the younger men placed themselves one on each side of Sir Richard, and the good horses settled themselves to a steady hand gallop, which was the best and surest pace for getting over those rough muddy roads.

Three miles had been safely traversed. Absolute solitude and silence seemed to reign throughout the woodland tracks. But the darkest of the forest still lay ahead of them, and the red ball of the sun had just dipped behind the ridge in front.

"It will be dark beneath the trees," said Sir Richard; "have a care, lads, how you ride.

"Philip, thine eyes are better than mine. Dost thou see aught there to the right of the road, just beneath that great oak?"

Philip had seen already, and his answer was quickly spoken.

"They be horsemen," he said-"horsemen drawn up and, as it were, awaiting us. I fear me we shall not pass without molestation. But my counsel is not to pause, rather to gallop still on steadily, as though we saw them not. But let us be ready; and if they dare to molest us, let us with one accord discharge our pieces in their faces. That will disconcert them for a moment, and we may perchance outride them. We are but three miles and a half from Cross Way House. I trow we can make shift to reach its friendly shelter; and once there we shall be safe."

"It is useless to pause now," answered Sir Richard, who was always cool and self possessed in moments of real peril. "Our men are a mile behind, and to hesitate would be to lose all. A bold front is our greatest safeguard. We are all well skilled in the use of arms. Be watchful and vigilant, and make you sure that every shot and every stroke will tell. We have need of all our strength, if we are attacked. But they may let us pass unmolested; they may guess that our followers are behind."

Culverhouse said nothing, but he set his teeth hard and his eyes flashed ominously. He had never tasted real warfare before, and it seemed to fire the blood in his veins and send it tingling through his body. Each rider so shifted his carbine that it could be readily used at a moment's notice.

And now they had reached the forest aisle. Their good horses, still galloping freely and easily, bore them rapidly onwards. They had almost reached that silent, motionless band awaiting them with sinister quietude. In another moment they would have passed them, when, on a sudden, a voice rang out clear and sharp through the still air:

"Halt! stand! Stand, or we fire!"

"Ride on and fire!" said Sir Richard in calm tones; and the next moment the echoes were awakened by three sharp reports of firearms and by a yell-three yells-of human rage and pain. A roar of execration and menace arose from twenty throats, and twenty blades gleamed brightly in the gathering dusk. But already the riders had passed the little band, sweeping by before they were well aware of it. And as they did so, they heard a voice exclaim, sharpened by rage and pain:

"It is they-it is our foes! I knew it-I knew it! Those are the Trevlyn brood that we were warned would pass-the false sire and his son and nephew. After them, my men! Let them not escape your vengeance! Take them, or slay them, but let them not escape! They have the treasure. We will have them. The vengeance of the gipsy tribe shall be consummated! They shall not make it void. They shall give life for life-blood for blood!"

"They shall! they shall! They shall not escape us. We will be avenged, and the red gold shall be our reward!"

Sir Richard set his teeth as he heard these words, and dug his spurs into the sides of his horse, causing the noble animal, who seemed to share his master's knowledge of the deadly peril they were in, to spring forward with redoubled speed.

"We must save ourselves by flight; they are six to one!" he said in low tones to his companions, who kept pace for pace at his side. "It will be a race for life; and if we are beaten, all we can do is to sell our lives as dearly as may be. It is not robbery alone, it is vengeance, the old grudge against the Trevlyns. But if we can but make Cross Way House ere we are outridden, we may save ourselves yet."

Chapter 24: Kate's Courage

Lady Humbert had left the Cross Way House for a three days' visit to a sick relative who had sent an urgent message to her. Mistress Dowsabel remained in charge of the house and its small establishment, lessened considerably by the removal of four of the men servants who had attended their mistress on her journey.

Mistress Dowsabel would gladly have accompanied her sister, for she was always nervous and ill at ease in her absence, but she was withheld by two considerations. In the first place, she was suffering from what was then termed a rheum, which we should call a bad cold in the head, so that the idea of a wet cold journey of some hours' duration was exceedingly unwelcome; in the second, it was not thought seemly by either sister that the young girls, their guests, should be left in the house without some guardian and protector; and Mistress Dowsabel therefore decided to put her fears on one side and remain in charge.

"And beside, what is there to fear?" Lady Humbert had said, in her decisive and cheery fashion. "We are quiet and peaceable folks, and have naught to dread either at home or abroad. I shall strive to be but three nights absent; and our merry Kate will uphold thy spirits, sister, till my return. Thou wilt be better by the fireside than journeying in the saddle this tempestuous weather."

This fact was self evident, and Mistress Dowsabel had no desire to leave the fireside.

"I must e'en do the best I can without thee, sister," she said. "I doubt not my fears be foolish. I will strive that the girls be not affected thereby."

"I trow it would be no easy matter to teach them to Kate," said Lady Humbert with a smile. "She has all the spirit of Wyvern and Trevlyn combined. She will be a stanch protector for thee, Dowsabel, if thou art troubled by strange noises in the wainscot, or by the barking of the dogs without."

"Thou thinkest me a sad coward, sister; and so perchance I am," said meek Mistress Dowsabel. "But if ever thou art absent from the house, I am beset by a thousand fears that assail me not at any other time. My heart is heavy as lead within me now."

But Lady Humbert could not delay her journey on that account. She said something equivalent to "Fiddle dee dee!" and hastened forward her preparations with her customary energy. Kate flitted about and chattered merrily to her, having won her way by that time to a very soft spot in the heart of her ancient kinswoman.

"I am glad to leave thee with thy aunt Dowsabel, child," said Lady Humbert before she left. "Ellen will read to her and see to her possets and her little fire-side comforts; but thou wilt assist her to overlook the household and servants, and cheer up her spirits and her courage if either should flag. She is strangely timid when I am not by. Thou must do what thou canst to keep away her fears."

"Fears!" echoed Kate, laughing; "why, wherefore should we fear?"

"There is small cause, but Dowsabel is by nature timorous, and she will lean on thee, child though thou art, when I am gone. There be certain charges I would lay upon thee. The men will be gone, all but old Thomas within doors and Joshua without; wherefore I will ask thee to go round the house thyself at dusk each eve, and see that all bolts and bars be securely drawn. That is Andrew's work, but he will be with me. Dyson and thou hadst better go together-or thou and Cherry. Thou wilt not be afraid of such a task?"

"Afraid? marry no! Cherry and I will do it gladly. She is a merry-hearted lassie, and I like her well. Is there aught else, my lady aunt?"

Lady Humbert, standing beside the fire and drawing on her riding gloves, looked into Kate's bright face with a thoughtful smile.

"If I could trust thy discretion as I trust thy courage and sense, my giddy-pated maiden, there is one more charge I would lay upon thee."

The light of laughter in Kate's eyes changed suddenly to something deeper and graver. She came one step nearer and laid her hand on Lady Humbert's arm.

"Try me," she said simply. "Methinks I am not so giddy as they deem me. I have thought, I have suffered, I have been forced to possess my soul in patience. Try and see if I may not be trusted in this thing."

Lady Humbert gazed a moment into the clear eyes, and then said:

"I will try thee, child. It is no such heavy charge I would lay upon thee, yet it is one that thy aunt Dowsabel would fear to undertake. She would fain close the doors of the Cross Way House against all strangers and wayfarers who come to them in the absence of the mistress; but that is not my wish. Dost thou know, child, the name the Cross Way House has ever held with those who fare through the forest tracks?"

"I have heard it spoken of as a place where none in need is ever turned away," answered Kate.

"Ay, and so it was in those good old days when Wyverns held open house here, and were beloved from far and near. Alas! those good old days are passed away; for our fortunes are fallen, and we have no longer the power to entertain in such bounteous fashion. And yet I have striven, as thou hast doubtless seen, that the poor, the aged, the sick, and the needy are never turned from these doors without bite or sup to cheer their hearts and send them rejoicing on their way. Strange persons come to the house from time to time; but all are admitted to such good cheer as is ours to offer, and never has my hospitality been abused. Fugitives from the robbers of the road have been admitted here; yet never has this lone house been attacked. Wounded robbers have sought shelter here, bleeding nigh to death, and their wounds have been dressed by these hands, and their lives saved through our ministrations. To the cry of poverty or distress the doors have ever opened, be the distressed one worthy or no. Never have we had cause to regret what we have done for evil men or good. Never has our hospitality been repaid by treachery or deceit."

"And now?" asked Kate as Lady Humbert paused.

"Now my timid sister would have the doors closed for the days that I am absent and the men with me. She says she fears for the treasure. She says there is more peril now than of old. She may be right; but I see not why the danger be greater, since none know the secret save those who are pledged to keep it, and it goes against me that the traditions of the house should be broken. Can I trust thee, Kate, to take my place in this? Wilt thou strive to still thy aunt's fears and keep watch over all who come and go, that our doors may still open to the poor, whilst no needless terrors be inflicted on the timid women who will be forced to keep guard alone?"

"I will gladly strive to do all I may," answered Kate, who had been Lady Humbert's companion now long enough to know much of her methods.

"It may well be that none will come," said Lady Humbert cheerfully, with a smile and a nod of approval. "These be ill days for travellers, and in the winter season few pass this way. But such as do seek shelter from the storm or from hunger or peril must not be turned away disappointed. Look to it, Kate. I trust that matter to thee. I shall ask thee for the account of thy stewardship on my return."

And then the mistress of the house gathered her train together and set forth, riding her steady old horse as fearlessly as though she had been fifty years younger, and nodding a brisk farewell all round as she turned out of the gate upon the highway so close at hand.