The Lion's Whelp

Then she opened the door next to the death chamber, and Jane saw lying on a great canopied bed the dying Earl. His last breaths were coming in painful sobs, but he opened his eyes and looked mournfully at Jane for a few moments. Then the physician sitting by his side motioned authoritatively to the two girls to leave the room.

"He is dying. You see that. He may live till morning – no longer," said Matilda; "he is only waiting to see Stephen, and Stephen will never come. Ben said he was with the King's horse, and the King is slain, and all is red ruin and sorrow without end. When you rise to-morrow morning, you can tell yourself Matilda de Wick is motherless, fatherless, brotherless, friendless, and homeless; and I dare say you will add piously, 'It is the Lord's doing'; but it is not the Lord's doing, it is Oliver Cromwell's work. I would walk every step of the way to London if I might see him hung when I got there!"

"Indeed, Matilda, you are cruel to say such things. You are neither friendless nor homeless."

"Indeed, I am in both cases. I will have no friends that are partners in Cromwell's crimes, and if Stephen be dead, de Wick goes only in the male line, and there is not a male left to our name. Cromwell and his Parliament may as well take house and lands; they have slain all who can hold them – all, Reginald, Roland, Stephen, my Uncle Robert, my cousins Rufus and Edward! What wonder that Julian Sacy's heart broke, and that my father only waits at the door of Death to say good-bye to Stephen."

"What can I do for you, dear? Oh, what can I do?"

"I will have nothing from you, not even pity, while you endure, yes, even admire, this monster of cruelty, Oliver Cromwell."

"Cruelty is far from him. He has the heart of a child."

"He is a very demon. He has drenched England in blood."

"He has done nothing of the kind. Why did Charles Stuart invade England? What right had he to do so? England is not his private estate. England belongs to Englishmen. No, I will not talk on this subject with you. When you are in reason send for me, and I will do anything, anything, that my heart and hands can do."

"I will not send for you. I never wish to see your face again. And how poor Stephen loved you! And you – you have not a tear for his fate. I thank God I am not of your profession. I can weep for the death of those who loved me."

With these words Matilda turned sobbing away, and Jane, slowly at first and then hastily, took the road to Swaffham. For after she had decided that it was best not to force her company on her distracted friend, she remembered that the news which had reached de Wick was probably at Swaffham. It might also have come there with a tale of death and danger, and her mother be needing her help and comfort. So she made all possible haste, and as soon as she reached Swaffham she was aware of a change. The servants were running about with unusual alacrity, and there was a sense of hurry and confusion. As soon as Jane spoke, her mother came quickly towards her. Her look was flurried, but not unhappy, as she cried, "Have you the news, Jane? 'Tis the greatest victory that hath ever been in England. Dr. Verity came an hour ago, so tired he could scarcely sit his horse. He has had a warm drink and sleeps, but he says no victory was ever like it."

"And my father and brothers? What of them?"

"Your father is well; Tonbert and Will have some slight sword cuts. Cymlin has taken them to London, and Dr. Marvel will see to their wounds. We must be ready to go with Dr. Verity to London on Tuesday morning. Your father desires it."

"I heard at de Wick that Charles Stuart is slain."

"Dr. Verity believes not such a report. He says, however, that the war is over. The Royalists have now neither army nor leader. Now, Jane, make some haste. Put carefully away what is to be left, and pack a small box with such clothing as you must take with you. Joslyn, the carrier, will bring the rest. To-morrow being Sabbath, we can do nothing towards our journey but on Monday all must be finished."

It troubled Jane that there was so little sense of triumph. "The greatest victory that had ever been in England" appeared quite a secondary thing to Mrs. Swaffham in comparison with the hurried journey to London, and all it implied. An unspeakable fear had been lifted from every heart, and yet, instead of the great rejoicing which would have been fit and natural, there was a little ennui and forgetfulness – a feeling which if it had found words might have said, "There, now, the trouble is over. We have felt all we can feel. We would rather sit down and cry a little than shout to the church bells clanging all over England. We have given of ourselves freely while need was, now the need is over, let us alone."

Such an appearance of ingratitude troubled Jane in her very soul. Cromwell so eagerly looked for, so mighty to help, had not been even named. "What ingrates mortals are!" she thought bitterly, "what ingrates both to God and man. Yet had my father been here, he would have called the house together and thanked God for His help by the hand of Oliver Cromwell."

To such thoughts she worked rapidly. Her little box was soon packed, her room put in order, and she was beginning to wonder if Dr. Verity's sleep was delaying supper, when there was a sharp, impatient knock at the door. Before she could in any way answer it, Matilda de Wick entered and threw herself on her knees at Jane's side.

"You said you would help me," she cried; "you said you would, with heart and hands! Now, Jane, keep your word! It is life or death! Have pity on me! Have pity on me!"

"What is it, Matilda? What is it you wish?"

"It is Stephen; it is his friend Hugh Belward. They are searching de Wick for them now. I have brought them to you. Father told me to come here. I could go nowhere else, I had no time. Jane, for God's sake save them; not for my sake, not for pity's sake, but for God's sake save them! They are now outside this door – they may be seen by some servant – let them enter – may I open the door? Jane, speak. There is not a moment to lose. The men seeking them may be on their way here – Jane, Jane! Why don't you let them in? You said you would help me! Oh, for God's dear sake!"

"How can I do what you ask me, Matilda? Think of what you ask – "

"I know; I ask life for two poor souls ready to perish. One of them loves you – Jane, speak – why are you waiting?"

"My father – my brothers – and in this room? – My own room? – "

"The more sure sanctuary. Be not too nice, when too much niceness may be murder. Jane, there is no time to talk. Let them through the door."

"I will call mother," she said; "let them in until I bring her here." Then she opened the door, and Matilda brought the two wayworn, blood-stained, fainting fugitives within the sanctuary.

Mrs. Swaffham was not long in answering Matilda's petition. That divine compassion that oversteps every obstacle, and never asks who or what art thou, saw the visible necessity and hastened to meet it.

"Surely, surely, my poor lads," she said pitifully, "I will find hiding for you."

"God Himself thank you, madame," sobbed Matilda. "Father said you would. He told me to bring the boys to you, and I brought them through the fields and under the hedges. No one has seen them; it was nearly dark," she said hysterically.

"Yes, dearie, and Will shall saddle a horse and take you home."

"No, no, no! It would then be known I had come here in the dark; and the servants would ask what for, and suspect the truth. No one must know. I can find my way – and I must now go."

"Tell your father that they who would hurt the young men must hurt me first."

"It will be the greatest, the last, comfort he can have in this world." Then she kissed her brother, and with a glance of farewell pity at his companion, went quickly and quietly away.

"Go down-stairs, Jane," said Mrs. Swaffham, "and if Dr. Verity is waiting, order supper to be served. Tell him not to wait on my necessities, which are many, with so much packing and putting away to look after. Keep men and maids busy on the ground floor, and the east side. I will bestow our friends in the oak room, on the west side of the house."

To this room she took them, and then brought water and wine and bread and meat, and some of her son's clothing, showing them, also, that the wide chimney had been prepared for such emergencies by having stout, firm, iron stirrups placed right and left at very short intervals. "By these you can easily reach the roof," she said; "Dr. Verity did so once, when Laud's men were seeking him. But I think no Parliament soldiers will search Israel Swaffham's house for succored malignants. To-night and to-morrow you can rest and sleep; I will waken you very early Monday morning, and you can go to de Wick for your horses, ere any one is astir." She kissed them both and poured out wine and made them drink, and then, looking carefully to see that no chink in shutters or door let out a glimpse of candle-light, left them to eat and rest. Her heart was light, and she had no sense of wrong-doing, although Stephen had warned her that Parliament had issued an order threatening all who sheltered royalists with fine and imprisonment.

"Parliament's orders are well enough," she said to herself as she stepped rapidly and lightly away from the scene of her disobedience, "well enough, but I think far more of the orders of the King of kings, and He tells me if my enemy hunger to feed him and give him drink, and of course shelter and clothing – the oil and the twopence – the oil for his visible wants, and the twopence for the wants not seen. I must not forget the twopence. Thank God, I can spare a few pounds for the poor lads!" And her face was so happy in the thought that she seemed to bring sunshine into the parlour, where she found Dr. Verity eating a beefsteak pudding and talking to Jane, who sat with a white and anxious face trying to smile and answer him.

"Come and rest a little, Martha," he said, "I am not to halve a day."

"But I am, Doctor. I want to see to my boys' wounds."

"Wounds! Pshaw! Scratches! They will be in armour to enter London when Cromwell does. And what think you? Here come a half-a-dozen riders awhile ago, seeking young de Wick. They said also that it was thought Charles Stuart might be with him, and they would have searched Swaffham – high and low – if I had not been here. I vouched my word for no Stuart or de Wick in Swaffham, and told them the whole house was upside down, men and maids in every room, and you and Jane packing for London. And the rascals didn't take my word, but went to the kitchen and asked Tom and Dick and Harry and all the wenches, and so satisfied themselves."

"The impudent varlets," said Mrs. Swaffham, "to set your word at naught. I wish that you had called me."

"I told them when they hummed and hawed to 'light from their horses and go through the house, and Jane said, 'Surely, sirs, Dr. Verity will go with you;' and then I let them have the rough side of my tongue, and said, 'I'd do no such mean business as search Captain Israel Swaffham's house for royalists, and he and his three sons fighting them on every battle-field in England and Scotland. Not I!' So they went their ways to the kitchen, and learned nothing to what I told them; but they got a drink of ale, which was likely what they wanted. But if Charles Stuart had been here I would have gladly led the way to him, for I like well to betray a man who deceives and betrays all men."

"You would not, Dr. Verity," said Jane. "I know you better than your words. You would have put him on your own big horse, and put money in his hand, and said, Fly! I am not thy executioner."

"I say, No, downright."

"I say, Yes," affirmed Mrs. Swaffham. "In the heart of battle perhaps No, but if he came to you after the battle and begged for mercy, you would think of the reproach our Lord Christ gave to the unmerciful steward – shouldst not thou also have had compassion on thy fellow-servant even as I had pity on thee."

"You argue like a woman, Martha. There is the example of Jael."

"I wouldn't do what Jael did if England's crown was for it. There is not an Englishwoman living, not one living, who would play Jael. If Charles Stuart has got away from battle, he has got away; and if you are looking to Englishwomen to betray a poor soul in extremities, Charles Stuart may live to be King of England yet."

"You are making a wicked and impossible suggestion, Martha."

"No more wicked and impossible than that there is another Jael in England. There is not!"

"Don't flare up in that way, Martha. Thank God, we are neither of us yet called upon to decide such a question as Charles Stuart's life or death. But he might come here; the courage of despair may bring him. What would you do?"

"You are here, and I would leave you to answer that question for me."

"Well, I wish he would come. There is danger while he is hiding here and there in the country. What good is it to quench the fire in the chimney if it be scattered about the house? I think we will begin our journey to London on Monday morning, Martha."

"I cannot. If I had as many hands as fingers, I could not. You may keep watch and ward to-morrow and Monday, and it may be well to do so; for to tell the truth, I trust neither men nor maids in the kitchen. For a Parliament half-crown they would hide the devil. When was this great battle of Worcester fought?"

"Last Wednesday, on the third day of this month."

"Mother, remember how sad we were all that day. You said to me, 'Jane, there is death in the air;' and the men could not work, and they vowed the beasts trembled and were not to guide or to hold."

"The third of September!" said Mrs. Swaffham, "that was Dunbar day. A great victory was Dunbar!"

"Worcester was a greater victory; and there will be one more third of September, the greatest victory of all. But where it will be, and over what enemy, only God knows."

"When did the Worcester battle begin?" asked Jane.

"About four in the afternoon. It was a fair day, the sun shone brightly over the old city, with its red-tiled roofs, its orchards and gardens and hop fields, and over the noble river and long line of the green Malvern hills a few miles away. And the Royalist army made a grand show with their waving cloaks and plumes, their gay silk banners, and their shouts of For God and King! But they were as stubble before steel when Cromwell's iron men faced them with their stern answering shout of God With Us! It was a stiff business, but indeed God was with us. As for Cromwell, he was so highly transported that scarce one dared speak to him. Wherever he led, a great passion, like to a tempestuous wind, seized the men, and they crowded and rushed the enemy from street to street, shouting as they did so psalms of victory. Yes, Martha, yes, Jane, rushed them as the devil rushed the demon-haunted hogs into the sea of Galilee. Oh, I tell you, Cromwell! our Cromwell! is always grand, but never so mighty as when on horseback in front of his army. Then you look at the man, and thank God for him."

"And the battle began at four? I remember hearing Swaffham church strike that hour. I stood in a wretched mood at the door and counted the strokes. They had a fateful sound."

"We had been at work all day, but at that hour we had two bridges over the Severn, and Cromwell with half the army passed over them to the west side of the city. He rode in front, and was the first man to cross. Pitscottie's Highlandmen were waiting for him, and he drove them at push of pike from hedge to hedge till they were cut to pieces, every man's son of them, one on the heels of the other. And when Charles Stuart saw this battle raging on the west side of the river, he attacked the troops that had been left with Lambert on the east side. Right glad was Lambert, and 'tis said that the Stuart behaved very gallantly and broke a regiment of militia; and the troops, being mostly volunteers, began to waver. But Cromwell saw this new attack at once, and he and Desborough and Cobbett came rattling over the bridges of boats. No dismay when Cromwell was there! His voice and presence meant victory! The malignants, with their Scotch allies, retreated before him into Worcester streets, Cromwell's men after them pell-mell. Women, it was then hell let loose, for by this time it was nearly dark, and the narrow streets were lit only by the flashes of the great and small shot. Cromwell rode up and down them, in the midst of the fire; he took Fort Royal from the enemy, and with his own hands fired its guns upon them as they fled hither and thither, they knew not, in their terror and despair, where. Every street in Worcester was full of fire and blood, the rattle of artillery, the shouts of our captains, the shrieks of the dying. All night the sack of the city went on. It was a tenfold Drogheda, and ever since, by day and night, Lambert has been following the flying enemy, hunting and slaying them in every highway and hiding-place. Oh, indeed, the faces of our foes have been brought down to earth and their mouths filled with dust; and rightly so. No one will ever know the number slain, and we have ten thousand prisoners."

"Was such cruelty necessary?" asked Mrs. Swaffham.

"War is cruel, Martha; a battle would not be a battle unless it was cruel – furiously cruel. What is the use of striking soft in battle? The work is to do over again. A cruel war is in the end a merciful war."

"It is said Charles Stuart is slain."

"I don't believe that report, it has been spread by his friends to favour his escape. At first he was distracted, and went about asking some one to slay him; but he was seen afterwards beyond the gates of Worcester, moving eastward with a number of his adherents. David Leslie may be slain. I saw him riding slowly up and down like a man who had lost his senses. I could have shot him easily – but I did not."

"Thank God, Doctor!"

"I don't know about that, Martha. I'm not sure in my own mind about letting the old traitor go. But his white hair, his bloody face, and his demented look stayed my hand. He had left his bridle fall, his horse was trembling in every limb; the old man did not know what he was doing, he had lost his senses. Yet David Leslie ought to have been shot – only, I could not shoot him; he fought at my side – once. God forgive him! Martha, I have had enough of war. I thank God it is over."

"But is it over?"

"Cromwell says so, and I believe him. When a man walks with God as closely as Cromwell does, he knows many things beyond ordinary knowledge. I saw him about ten o'clock. He had written then a few lines to his wife and family, and was writing to the Parliament. And what did he say in that letter? Did he praise himself? No! He was bold humbly to beg that all the glory might be given to God, who had wrought so great a salvation. When he had sealed and sent off these letters – by Lord Cluny Neville, Mistress Jane – he lifted his sword, red from the hilt to the point, and wiped it upon a Royalist flag lying near him. Then he dropped the blade into the sheathe with a clang, and said, 'Truly thou hast had thy last bloody supper. Rest now, thy work is done!'"

"Truly, I know not what work," said Mrs. Swaffham. "I see only death and destruction."

"Martha, suppose Charles Stuart had conquered at Worcester, and that he had marched on London and been received there as the conqueror of a rebellious people, what would follow?"

"I know not, nor does any man or woman know."

"I can tell you. Our Protestant faith and our civil liberty would be taken from us; for the latter depends on the former, and all we have done since 1640 would be to do over again. Jericho has fallen, would you rebuild it?"

"All I want is peace."

"That we shall now have. Our steel bodies, that have galled us long with the wearing of them, may be cast off; our men will return to their homes and their daily work, and our worship shall never more be broken up, but our Sabbaths be full of good things."

"If we love God, I wonder if it makes so much difference how we worship Him?"

"I am astonished at you, Martha."

"I am astonished likewise at all the sorrow and blood-shedding about surplices and chasubles and written prayers and such things."

"My dear mother!"

"Oh, my dear Jane, it is so; and I was astonished when I was a girl and saw my father go to poverty and prison for such trifles. Yes, I say trifles – and I am a Puritan minister's child, and not ashamed of it – and my husband and sons have been taken from me, and my household left for the battle-field, and I know not what sorrows and trials – "

"Come, come, Martha, you are tired and fretted. If we believe in a great and terrible God, how we are most acceptably to worship Him is not a trifling thing; far from it! I tell you both, the form of worship we have in England measures our civil liberty. If we submit to spiritual slavery, any king or queen or successful soldier may make us civil slaves. Now let the subject drop; the war is over, we will think of peace."

"Peace comes too late for many a family. There are the de Wicks."

"I am sorry for them, and I could be sorrier if they had suffered for the right instead of the wrong. What will the young Lady Matilda do after her father's death?"

"I know not what, with any surety."

"Her aunt, Lady Jevery, has been written for, more than a week ago. She may be at de Wick even now. I think Matilda will make her home with the Jeverys."

"Then she goes to London. I know their great house near Drury Lane. It has very fine gardens indeed. I believe the Jeverys are under suspicion, Martha, as very hot malignants. And now, Jane, dear little Jane, listen to me. You are going to the great city, to Whitehall Palace, to Hampton Court, to the splendour and state of a great nation. You will be surrounded by military pomp and civil glory and social pride and vanity. Dear little girl, keep yourself unspotted from the world!"

"May God help me, sir."

"And let not the tale of love beguile you. Young Harry Cromwell, gallant and good, will be there; and Lord Neville, with his long pedigree and beautiful face; and officers in scarlet and gold, and godly, eloquent preachers in black and white, and foreign nobles, and men of all kinds and degrees. And 'tis more than likely many will tell you that Jane Swaffham is fair beyond all other women, and vow their hearts and lives to your keeping. Then, Jane, in such hours of temptation, be low and humble towards God. Go often to the assembling of the saints and catch the morning dew and celestial rain of their prayers and praise. Then, Jane, cry all the more earnestly – 'Tell me, oh Thou whom my soul loveth' —my soul, Jane – 'where Thou feedest, where Thou makest Thy flocks to rest at noon.' And no doubt you will add to this inquiry its sweet closing – 'He brought me to the banqueting-house, and His banner over me was love.'"

And Jane smiled gratefully, and her eyes were dim with tears as she laid her hands in Doctor Verity's to clasp her promise. Yet when she reached her room and sat quiet in its solitude, no one will blame her because many thoughts of love and hope blended themselves with the piteous ones she sent to de Wick, and to the two weary fugitives under Swaffham roof. She was pleased at the thought of Harry Cromwell, but oh! what a serious happiness, what a flush of maiden joy transfigured her face when she thought of her lover, forecasting rose-winged hours for him to glorify. And in her soul's pure sanctuary she whispered his name while her eyes dreamed against the goal of their expected meeting. For Love gives Hope to the true and tender, but counts a cold heart a castaway.