Part 16 (2/2)
So after a time Rupert pa.s.sed on his march.
Our story, however, has to do with the troops of the Parliament, and their sojourn in Longdendale. When he left Stockport, Colonel Dukinfield led his men directly to the wild country beyond Mottram; and on the lands adjoining the old halls of Mottram, Thorncliffe, and Hollingworth, and about the homes of the wealthier inhabitants, he quartered his force. He does not seem to have met with much resistance in this matter; and it is most likely that the Longdendale landowners were themselves inclined to favour the Parliamentary cause.
Be that as it may, they found food for horse and men, and supplied Dukinfield with money, cattle, and soldiers, when the time came for him to march. There are some interesting doc.u.ments still preserved, which give the details of the various expenses to which the Longdendale gentry were put by the prolonged stay of the Roundhead forces on their lands.
[Ill.u.s.tration: DUKINFIELD HALL.]
As was to be expected, the arrival of so renowned a fighter as Colonel Dukinfield, and his bold band of Roundheads, caused more than a flutter of excitement in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the country folk of Longdendale. Those inclined to the Roundhead faction, were rather proud to stand by and wave their caps and cheer at the brave men who had so resolutely fought against the tyrant King; while the Royalist inhabitants surveyed the soldiers and their Puritan colonel, with feelings akin to hatred seeing in them nothing but a set of rebels who were too vile to live.
Of the last-named cla.s.s was a stout yeoman whom for the purpose of this story we will name Timothy Cooke. A thorough King's man at heart, he had no sympathy with any who set themselves up to fight against the ”lords anointed,” and as he saw the Roundheads ride past he would, had he dared, and had the opportunity presented itself, have put a bullet into the body of each rider.
”A d.a.m.nable set of psalm-singing rascals,” muttered Tim to a companion, as the Parliamentary troops went by. ”May the food and fodder they get in Longdendale, choke both man and beast. They are of the devil's sp.a.w.n, every one, enemies to G.o.d as well as to the King.”
”Steady, Tim,” whispered his companion. ”They will overhear thee, and then, belike, thou wilt get into serious trouble.”
”Trouble!” quoth Tim. ”I care mighty little for anything they can do.
The King's forces will wipe them out ere long; and had I been but half the man I was in my young days, I would have ridden behind the Cavaliers, and struck a blow for His Majesty.”
Then, grumbling at the perversity of the times, which permitted such unseemly sights as that presented by a band of Republican soldiers marching coolly through Longdendale, he jogged off homeward, to weary his wife with his ill-humour.
But the goodman had more to put up with ere long, for after a few days were pa.s.sed, there came riding into his farmyard, the stalwart figure of a Roundhead. The soldier was a young man, of gentlemanly appearance, and strikingly handsome. He wore his hair cropped close, and his face was clean shaven. He sat his horse firmly, and his well-proportioned figure gave signs of strength.
”Farmer,” cried he; ”I give you a good day. You have a grey mare, I understand, of some little fame hereabouts. My officers require the use of her for the service of the Parliament. And I am come to take her forthwith. Also a sheep from your fold would not come amiss, but that you may send to the headquarters by one of your farm hands.”
He spoke with the free air of one who expected that his requests, or orders, would be observed as a matter of course.
Timothy stood stock still for a few moments, lost in wonder. Then his hot temper blazed forth in a volume of words.
”Why you knave--you close-cropped murdering rebel--you speak and carry yourself with the bearing of an honest King's man. Get out of my yard this instant, or I'll brain you on the spot. No horse or sheep of mine goes from here to the service of the King's enemies.”
He flourished a large hay-fork dangerously near the horseman, and the steed began to back with alarm.
”Drop that fork,” cried the soldier, drawing his pistols, ”I've no mind that there shall be any accident, but if you will advance, and if one of these weapons goes off, 'tis no fault of mine.”
But the old farmer's blood was up.
”I'll spit you as I would a goose,” cried he; ”and all other such Republican knaves.”
The soldier pulled his horse aside, and levelled his pistol at the farmer's head.
”Thou mad fool,” he cried. ”If thou wilt rush to thy death, 'tis no concern of mine.”
And sighting the weapon, he made ready to fire.
But at that moment came a diversion, and from an unexpected quarter; for in the doorway of the farm, directly behind the irate yeoman, there appeared the figure of a maid. She was the farmer's daughter, and a maid of uncommon beauty; and the sight of so fair a daughter of Eve, bursting thus suddenly on the soldier's vision, banished for one brief second the murderous purpose from his mind. He hesitated, let his eyes wander from the farmer to rest upon the figure of the girl.
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