“Besides this mortar,” she said, “you have brought me, I am told, a good supply of powder, with several other prizes. These I will receive anon. Our first duty is to Heaven.”
She then proceeded to the chapel followed by all those who had just returned from the successful sortie.
CHAPTER XXIV
How Colonel Holland promised to bring Reinforcements from Manchester
GREAT was the mortification of Rigby, when he found that the engine, with which he had hoped to accomplish the destruction of Lathom House, had been taken from him; and additional sharpness was added to the stroke by the fact that Colonel Holland had been invited to witness his triumph, and had used great despatch to arrive in time.
Unable to invent any excuses, Rigby was obliged to confess the truth — neither could he conceal the fact that such great discontent prevailed among his soldiers, that a mutiny was threatened. More than two hundred had run away from the trenches that morning, and these added to the large number killed in the attack of the Royalists, or malignants, as he termed them, made a very serious loss. Nor did he see how the reduction of the garrison could now be accomplished, except by starvation or want of water. He believed that their stock of provisions was getting low, and hoped to drain their well, but so many failures in his plans had occurred that he did not feel very sanguine. The siege might drag on till the countess obtained assistance from the king, or from the Earl of Derby, who he understood had quitted the Isle of Man, and was now in Chester.
After thus explaining his position, he requested Colonel Holland to send him an immediate reinforcement from Manchester.
“I want five hundred men without delay to replace those I have lost,” he said. “I am no longer equal to the task given me. The sorties of the enemy are so frequent, that the soldiers are obliged to guard the trenches for two nights running — sometimes more. By this last attack I have lost more than two hundred of my best men, and at least twenty engineers. I would fain have another mortar, in order that I may make a fresh attempt to burn down the house. I should likewise feel well pleased if you would send Colonel Rosworm to me. He might render me great assistance.”
“I am unable to comply with the latter request,” replied Colonel Holland. “I have already spoken to Rosworm on the subject, but he absolutely refuses to lend any further aid against the Countess of Derby, and does not seek to disguise his hope that she may be able to hold out. I will bring you the five hundred men you require with as little delay as possible, though their withdrawal from the Manchester garrison will greatly reduce our strength — but I cannot promise you another mortar. However, it is time this long siege should be brought to a close. The heroic defence made by the countess — for heroic it is — is the talk of the whole county, and is damaging our cause while it raises the hopes of the malignants. We must compel her to surrender.”
“I see not how that can be accomplished,” rejoined Rigby. “I have tried every means, but hitherto without success. After the defeat of today matters will become worse. As I have just explained to you the soldiers refuse to work in the trenches, and many of them have taken to flight. Another such month as I have gone through would compel me to raise the siege. The labour is beyond my strength.”
“Well, you shall have the reinforcement you require, and that speedily,” replied Colonel Holland. “But you must not relax in your exertions.”
“I shall remove the demi-cannon and the culverin from the batteries, or the enemy will obtain possession of them next,” said Rigby.
“That will be judicious,” rejoined Colonel Holland. “The cannon can be taken back again when I arrive with the reinforcement.”
“But by that time the batteries may be destroyed,” remarked Rigby.
“Others must then be reared,” said Colonel Holland. “Do not let the countess suppose you are discouraged. Keep up a bold appearance. When I come back we will send her another summons to surrender.”
“If we do, she will hang the messenger.”
“No, I will take it myself,” replied Colonel Holland. “Bold as she is, she will not venture to hang me.”
“I am not sure of it,” said Rigby. “But I would as soon enter a lion’s den as into her mansion. I should expect to be torn in pieces. She is often on the Eagle Tower. I wish a shot could reach her.”
The colloquy then ended, and Colonel Holland set out out on his return to Manchester.
CHAPTER XXV
Of Asaph the Avenger, and the terrible Crime he committed
FOR three days the besiegers remained perfectly quiet, keeping close within the trenches, and not firing a single shot.
Since they had removed all their large cannon the opportunity seemed favourable for making another nocturnal attack, and accordingly, on the second night, Captain Ogle sallied forth with a dozen musketeers. He was fired upon by a party who were lying in ambush near the postern-tower, but sustained no damage, and brought back more powder and match, together with a prisoner, who declared that he possessed some intelligence of the utmost importance, but refused to communicate it to any one, save the countess herself.
This being reported to her ladyship by Captain Ogle, she resolved to question him, and he was brought before her for that purpose on the following morning.
The interrogation took place in a room adjoining the great banquet-hall.
The prisoner was a strongly-built man with harsh features, and his closely- cropped hair and deportment proclaimed him a rigid Puritan.
His accoutrements were a buff coat and boots, but he had been deprived of his head-piece and belt, and, as was supposed, of all weapons.
He was guarded by a couple of musketeers, who could not force him, even with blows, to make an obeisance to the countess.
She was seated in a high-backed chair, and on either side of her were her daughters, Gertrude, Archdeacon Rutter, Major Farrington, and Standish.
The prisoner surveyed the assemblage sternly, and slightly started when his eye fell upon Gertrude. The damsel had noticed him at the same time, and observed to the countess:
“I recognise the man. He calls himself Asaph the Avenger, and is accounted one of the saints. He was well known to my father.”
“I like not his looks,” replied the countess. “He seems to me of an evil disposition, and full of hatred and malevolence.”
“Such is his character, madam,” said Gertrude. “For my own part I never could endure him.”
At this moment Asaph, who had hitherto been silent, lifted up his voice, and addressing Gertrude, said:
“What dost thou here, in the habitation of Jezebel, thou daughter of a holy and valiant man? It grieveth me to the heart to find thee whom I loved so well, abiding with the enemy.”
“Hold thy peace, thou psalm-singing hypocrite,” cried Captain Ogle, striking him with the flat of his sword. “Thou saidst thou hadst important information to give her ladyship. What is it?”
“I have to tell her that Colonel Holland, the righteous governor of Manchester, is bringing large reinforcements to Colonel Rigby. She will therefore be compelled to submit to the mercy of Parliament.”
“Art thou a messenger from Rigby, fellow?” demanded the countess, angrily.
“The man was taken prisoner last night in the trenches,” said Captain Ogle.
“I could easily have escaped, as this officer can testify, if he will speak the truth,” said Asaph. “But I allowed myself to be captured, because I desired to speak to thee — to warn thee that if thou dost continue to slaughter the saints, thou wilt be cut off by a sudden and violent death — thy soldiers will be slain — thine house destroyed, and turned into a nest of owls, and a den of dragons.”
“Take him hence,” cried the countess, fiercely. “I said I would hang the next messenger sent to me. This man has dared to usurp the office and shall not escape the penalty attached to it. Take him hence, and hang him from the walls that all his comrades may behold his punishment.”
Before any movement could be made
to execute this stern decree, Gertrude threw herself at the countess’s feet, and cried:
“Spare him, madam, spare him, I implore you! It will more accord with your noble character and humane disposition to pardon such a miserable caitiff than to put him to death. He is beneath your resentment.”
The words and the tone in which they were uttered produced an impression on the countess, and seeing it, Gertrude arose and turning to Asaph, said:
“Down on thy knees, rash man. Sue for mercy, and thou shalt obtain it.”
“Never!” exclaimed Asaph, resolutely. “Never will I bend knee to Jezebel. I came not to her to sue for mercy, but to tax her with her crimes, and warn her of her end. Her punishment is at hand. Deeply hath she sinned against the Lord and she shall die. I have pronounced her doom. The servants of the Lord are in array against her. The broad walls of Babylon shall be utterly broken.”
As he finished speaking, he drew forth a pistol, which he had contrived to conceal in his accoutrements, and levelled it at the countess.
So sudden was the act that neither the musketeers nor Captain Ogle could prevent him from discharging the weapon.
No doubt the shot would have been fatal if Gertrude, who had watched him narrowly, and divined his purpose, had not placed herself before her noble mistress, and received in her breast the bullet intended for her — thus preserving the countess’s life at the sacrifice of her own.
A cry of horror burst from all around. Rising from her seat at the moment, Lady Derby caught her preserver in her arms, while the young ladies Stanley crowded round eager to render aid.
The wretch who had done the dreadful deed, looked on aghast — his features expressing the most terrible mental anguish.
“I meant not to kill her,” he cried, almost piteously. “I would have died rather than harm her. Let me obtain her forgiveness, and I will go with you to instant death.”
“Thou shalt go to instant death, thou execrable assassin,” cried Captain Ogle, “but without the forgiveness of thy innocent victim, that thy soul may be sent to the perdition thou so justly meritest.”
Asaph made no further resistance, but was hurried by the musketeers to the small court at the back of the chapel, where it may be remembered a wall had been knocked down by a grenado.
They were followed by Major Farrington and Captain Ogle.
At the door of the chapel they met Doctor Brideoake, who wished to pray with the murderer, but the wretched man sternly rejected the kindly offer.
Though the party moved on as quickly as possible, they were joined by several other musketeers and some of the servants, whose maledictions Asaph had to bear. But he seemed insensible to them, and entirely occupied by silent prayer.
On reaching their destination the two musketeers, who had never quitted their hold of the prisoner, took him to the further end of the little court.
Captain Ogle then bade him take off his buff coat and kneel down, and again asked if the chaplain should pray with him.
“We do not desire to destroy thy soul,” he said.
The offer was rejected as sternly as before, but the murderer begged to be allowed a few minutes to make his peace with Heaven.
This was granted, and the musketeers stayed by him till he had stripped off his accoutrements.
They then withdrew, and joined their comrades, who now numbered nearly a score, at the other end of the court.
The wretch then knelt down, and after passing a few minutes in earnest supplication, held up his hands.
At the signal, more than a dozen muskets were fired, and the assassin fell with his face to the ground, his body being completely riddled with shot.
None pitied him, but several spurned the bleeding carcase, as they would a dead dog.
CHAPTER XXVI
Of Gertrude’s last Parting with Standish
MEANWHILE, the wounded damsel had been carefully transported to her own chamber, and laid upon the small bed with which it was furnished.
When Master Holbrook, the surgeon of the garrison, and a man of great skill, entered the room, she had become insensible, and the countess and her daughters, who, with Archdeacon Rutter, were the only persons present, almost feared she had expired.
No pulsation could be felt by the countess, who had placed her hand on the luckless damsel’s wrist. How beautiful she looked even under these sad circumstances! Her eyes were closed, and the colour had fled from her cheeks, but the exquisite outline of her features was perfectly preserved. Her fair tresses having become unbound, streamed on the couch. Even the surgeon, who was rarely touched by such spectacles, was greatly moved.
On examining the wound, he found — as indeed was apparent — that it bled internally, and his grave looks announced that he deemed it fatal.
“Is she gone?” inquired the countess, in broken accents.
“No, madam,” replied Holbrook. “I can revive her, but it will only be for a short time.”
He then poured a few drops from a phial upon a small piece of linen, and applied it to her lips.
Ere long, to the amazement of all the observers, who had watched the result of the experiment with the utmost anxiety, symptoms of returning animation were perceptible.
Opening her eyes, the ill-fated damsel fixed them upon the countess, who was still standing near her.
At first, she did not seem to comprehend her situation, but soon the terrible truth rushed upon her.
Slightly raising herself, she gazed earnestly and inquiringly at the surgeon, whom she recognised, and finding he did not speak, said in a low, but firm voice:
“Tell me! tell me truly! Am I wounded to death?”
“You are,” he replied.
Then, without manifesting any fear, she asked in the same firm tone:
“How long have I to live? Do not deceive me.”
“You may live half an hour — not longer,” was the answer, pronounced very solemnly. “Drink from this phial,” he added, presenting it to her. “’Tis a sovereign elixir, and will help to sustain you.”
She eagerly swallowed a few drops, and returned the phial to him.
“That is all I can do, madam,” observed Holbrook to the countess, as he stepped back and quitted the room.
Forcibly repressing the emotion, by which she was well-nigh overcome, the countess bent down, and kissed the brow of the dying maiden.
“Oh! how can I thank you! You have rendered me many great services — but this is the greatest of all,” she cried, in a voice broken by emotion.
“It is the last service I shall ever render your ladyship!” replied Gertrude. “But I have done no more than my duty — no more than any of your soldiers would have done for you! There is not a single person in this castle, who would not gladly have sacrificed his life to save yours! Farewell, madam — farewell for ever! At this moment, when all else has become indifferent to me, I am gladdened by the thought that you will triumph over your enemies. Think of me, I pray you, in the hour of victory!”
“Doubt it not,” cried the countess. “But for you I should never have gained a victory.”
“Enough,” rejoined Gertrude. “I shall now die content.”
She then looked at the young ladies Stanley, who were gazing tearfully on the scene, and signed to them to come to her.
“You know how dearly I have loved you,” she exclaimed, holding out her arms to them. “Kiss me all of you, I entreat you! I cannot press you to my breast as I long to do, but while life lasts you will be next my heart.”
Approaching singly, each tenderly embraced her.
As they withdrew, Archdeacon Rutter came forward, and said:
“You have now done with the world, and must turn your thoughts to Heaven.”
“I have not quite done with the world, dear and reverend sir,” she rejoined. “There is one other person to whom I would bid farewell, ere I depart.”
“You mean Captain Standish,” observed the countess. “You would see him alone?”
“I would,” rep
lied the dying damsel.
“I will send him to you instantly,” said the countess.
And signing to the others to follow her, she quitted the room.
In another moment Standish entered, evidently quite overcome by grief.
“Can you forgive me?” he cried, taking the hand she extended to him, and pressing it to his lips.
“I have not waited for this moment to forgive you,” she rejoined, fixing her gaze tenderly upon him. “I know you have preferred another, and when I first made the discovery I thought my heart would break — nay, I even meditated revenge, and there were moments when I was so maddened by jealousy that I could have stabbed my rival. But those feelings have long since ceased. I love you still — but it is with a holy, sisterly love. You cannot doubt what I say, since I tell it you with my dying breath.”
“I do not doubt it,” cried Standish, in a voice of anguish. “Though you pardon me, I can never pardon myself.”
“Think no more of me,” she said. “Let no remembrance of me mar your future happiness. Heaven never intended I should be your wife, and though I have reconciled myself to my hard destiny, I feel this death is a boon to me, and has saved me much suffering. May you be happy with Engracia!”
The effort was too much, and she sank back upon the pillow.
Standish thought all was over, and with difficulty repressed a cry.
After remaining quiet for a few moments she again spoke.
“One thing distresses me greatly,” she said. “I cannot see my father — I cannot receive his blessing. But you will see him. Tell him I thought of him, and reproached myself that I have not adequately requited his strong affection for me. Heaven, therefore, has denied me his blessing.”
“I will tell him what you say,” cried Standish. “Have you any further injunction for me?”
“Should you behold my father again, give him this necklace,” she said, taking off a little string of beads; “and now, farewell for ever!”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 778