No Quarter!

The master of Hollymead was not so impolite as to refuse taking the letter from his hands; and, as soon as in his own, he tore it open and read, —

“For Ambrose Powell, Gentn.

“Trustie and well-beloved, Wee greete you well. Having obserued in the Presidents and custome of former times that all the Kings and Queenes of the Realme, vpon extraordinary occasions, haue vsed either to resort to those Contributions, which arise from one generalitie of Subiects, or to the priuate helpes of some well affected in particular, by way of loane: In which latter course Wee being at this time inforced to proceed, for supply of some portions of Treasure for diuers publique seruices, and particularly for continuing and increasing our magazins in some large proportion in our Realme of Ireland, in our Nauie, and in our ffortes: in all which greater summes have been expended of late, both in building and repairing, and in making sundry prousions, than haue bene in twentie yeares before: We haue now in Our Eye an especiall care, that such discretion may be obserued in the choise of the lenders, and such an indifferent distribution, as the summes that Wee shall receiue may be raised with an equall Consideration of men’s abilities: And therefore, seeing men haue had so good experience of Our repayment of all those summes which we haue euer required in this kinde, Wee doubt not but Wee shall now receiue the like Argument of good affection from you (amongst other of Our Subiects), and that with such alacrity and readiness as may make the same so much the more acceptable, especially seeing Wee require but that of some which few men would deny a friend, and haue a minde resolued to expose all our earthly fortune for the preseruation of the generall. The summe that Wee require of you by vertue of these presents is three thousand Pounds, Which we do promise in the name of Us, our heires and successors, to repay to you or your Assignes within eighteene monethes after the payment thereof vnto the Commissioner. The person that we have appointed to receiue it is our worthy servant, Sir Jno. Wintour, To whose hands Wee do require you to send it within twelue days after you have receiued this Priuy Seale, which, together with the Commissioner’s acquittance, shall be sufficient Warrant unto the Officers of our receipt for the repayment thereof at the time limitted. – Giuen under our Priuy Seale at our Pallace of Westminster.

“Carolus Rex.”

So ran the curious communication put into the hands of Ambrose Powell.

A letter of “Loan by Privy Seal” even more execrable both as to grammar and diction than the documents emanating from Royalty at the present day – and that is admitting much.

Spoke the master of Hollymead, after perusing it: —

“Request for a loan, the King calls this! Beggarly enough in the beginning – a very whine; but at the end more like the demand of a robber!”

“Mr Powell!” cried he who had presented it, his back now up in anger, “though but the messenger of Sir John Wintour, at the same time I’m in the service of the King. And, holding his Majesty’s commission, I cannot allow such talk as yours. It’s almost the same as calling the King a robber!”

“Take it as all the same, if you like, sirrah! And apply it also to Sir John Wintour, your more immediate master. Go back, and say to both how I’ve treated the begging petition – thus!”

And at the word he tore the paper into scraps, flinging them at his feet, as something to be trampled upon.

At this Reginald Trevor became furious; all the more from again seeing two feminine faces in the window above, by their looks both seeming to speak approval of what their father had said and done.

He might have given exhibition of his anger by some act of violence; but just then he saw something else which prompted to prudence, effectually restraining it. This something in the shape of three or four stalwart fellows – stablemen and servants of other sorts belonging to Hollymead House – who, having caught sound of the fracas in front, now appeared coming round from the rear.

No need for Reginald Trevor, noting the scowl upon their faces, to tell him they were foes, and as little to convince him of the small chance he and his varlet would have in an encounter with them. He neither thought of it nor any longer felt inclined to take vengeful action, not even to speaking some strong words of menace that had risen to his lips. Instead, choking them down, and swallowing his chagrin as he best could, he said, in a resigned, humble way, —

“Oh! well, Mr Powell; what you’ve done or intend doing is no affair of mine – specially. As you know, I’m here but in the performance of my duty, which I need not tell you is to me most disagreeable.”

“Very disagreeable, no doubt!” rejoined the master of Hollymead, in a tone of cutting sarcasm; “and being so, the sooner you get through with it the better. I think you’ve made a finish of it now, unless you deem it part of this disagreeable duty to gather up those torn scraps of the King’s letter, and carry them back to the Queen’s obsequious servant, and your master, Sir John.”

In the way of insult, taunt could scarce go farther. And he against whom it was hurled keenly felt it; at the same time felt his own impotence either to resent or reply to it. For the three or four fellows, with black brows, advancing from the rear, had been further reinforced, and now numbered nearly a dozen.

“I bid you good-evening, Mr Powell,” said the emissary, as he turned his horse round, but too glad to get away from that unpleasant spot.

“Oh! good-evening, sir,” returned the master of Hollymead, in a tone of mock politeness; after which he stood watching the ill-received visitor, till he saw him go out through the gates of his park.

Then over Ambrose Powell’s face came a shadow – the shadow of a fear. For he knew he had offended a Royal tyrant, who, though now weaker than he had been through the restraint of a Parliament, might still have strength enough to tear him.

“My dear children,” he said, as he joined them in the withdrawing-room, “the trouble I’ve been long anticipating has come at last. We will have to leave Hollymead, or I must fortify and defend it.”

Chapter Ten

The Cousins

The sun had set as Reginald Trevor rode out of Hollymead Park. But he did not intend returning to Lydney that night; instead, purposed passing it in Ross, to which town he had also an errand. By making free use of the spur he might still reach his destination within the twilight.

Outside the park gate he was about turning in the Ross direction when he saw a party on horseback advancing from the opposite, as he had himself come. Four there were – two gentlemen in front, with their respective attendants a little behind. He could have shunned them by riding rapidly on before; but from the stylish appearance of one of the gentlemen he took it they were Cavaliers, possibly might be acquaintances; and after his long, lonely ride he was in the humour for company. It might help him some little to get over his chagrin. So he drew rein, and sate in his saddle waiting for them to come up.

There was a wide sweep of grass-grown turf between the park gate and the public road, and he had halted at the end of it on the right. Soon the party approaching reached the other, and he saw, with some surprise, and a little vexation, their horses’ heads being turned in towards the gate. Whoever the gentlemen might be, they were evidently bent upon a visit to the house that had refused hospitality to himself.

With something more than curiosity he scanned them now. Were they known to him? Yes! one was; his surprise becoming astonishment, as in the more showily-attired of the two gentlemen he recognised his cousin Eustace.

“You, Eust!” he exclaimed, drawing his horse round, and trotting towards his kinsman; his glance given to the other being as that to a stranger; for he was not acquainted with Sir Richard Walwyn.

“You, Rej!” was the all-but echo of a response, and the cousins came together, Sir Richard passing on into the park. The gentleman tax-gatherer, still smarting under the rebuff given him, the smart shared by his servant, had ill-manneredly left the gate open behind them.

It was months since the cousins had met; though each knew where the other was, or ought to be. Hence Reginald’s surprise to see Eustace there, supposing him to be engaged in his duties at Court. He spoke it inquiringly, as they held out to shake hands; but, before the other could make answer, he saw that which gave him a start – blood upon the hand extended to him! The white buckskin glove was reddened with it all over up to the gauntlets.

“God bless me, Eust! what’s this? A wound! Have you been quarrelling?”

“Oh! nothing much. Only a little prick in the wrist.”

“Prick in the wrist! But from what?”

“The point of a rapier.”

“The deuce! Then you have been quarrelling. With whom, pray?”

“Speak a little lower, Rej. I’d rather he didn’t hear us.”

And Eustace nodded towards Sir Richard, who was not yet quite beyond earshot.

“Surely you don’t mean the affair was with him?”

“I do – it was.”

“He got the better of you?”

“Quick as you could count ten.”

“Zounds! that’s strange – you such a swordsman! But still stranger what I see now, your being in his company. Not his prisoner, are you?”

“Well, in a way I am.”

“In that case, cousin, my sword’s at your service. So let me try conclusions with him. Possibly, I may get you a revanche; at the same time release you from any parole you may be under.”

Though, but the moment before, some little cowed, and declining a combat with serving men, Reginald Trevor was all courage now; and feared not to meet a gentleman in fair fight. For he saw that Trevor blood had been spilt, and, although he and his cousin Eustace had never been bosom friends, they were yet of the same family. The hot Cymric blood that ran in the veins of both boiled up in his to avenge whatever defeat his kinsman might have sustained, and without awaiting answer he asked impatiently, —

“Shall I follow, and flout him, Eust? I will if you but say the word.”

“No, Rej; nothing of the sort. Thank you all the same.”

“Well; if you’re against it, I won’t. But it edges a Trevor’s teeth to see one of his kin – full cousin, too – worsted, conquered, dead – down as you seem to be. All, I suppose, from your antagonist being a bit bigger and older than you are. He’s that as regards myself; for all I’ve no fear to face him.”

“I know you haven’t, Rej. But don’t be angry with me for saying, if you did, it would end as it has with me – maybe worse.”

The ci-devant gentleman-usher spoke with some pique. Notwithstanding the generous offer of his cousin to espouse his quarrel, there was that in the proposal itself which seemed to reflect on his own capability – a suggestion, almost an assertion, of patronising superiority.