Part 48 (1/2)

”But the cold lies at my heart,” said Joceline; ”I scarce hope ever to be warm again. It is strange, and a charm seems to be on us. Here have we been nigh two hours in doing what Diggon the s.e.xton would have done to better purpose in half a one.”

”We are wretched spadesmen enough,” answered Dr. Rochecliffe. ”Every man to his tools-thou to thy bugle-horn, and I to my papers in cipher.-But do not be discouraged; it is the frost on the ground, and the number of roots, which rendered our task difficult. And now, all due rites done to this unhappy man, and having read over him the service of the Church, valeat quantum, let us lay him decently in this place of last repose; there will be small lack of him above ground. So cheer up thy heart, man, like a soldier as thou art; we have read the service over his body; and should times permit it, we will have him removed to consecrated ground, though he is all unworthy of such favour. Here, help me to lay him in the earth; we will drag briers and thorns over the spot, when we have shovelled dust upon dust; and do thou think of this chance more manfully; and remember, thy secret is in thine own keeping.”

”I cannot answer for that,” said Joceline. ”Methinks the very night winds among the leaves will tell of what we have been doing-methinks the trees themselves will say, 'there is a dead corpse lies among our roots.' Witnesses are soon found when blood hath been spilled.”

”They are so, and that right early,” exclaimed Cromwell, starting from the thicket, laying hold on Joceline, and putting a pistol to his head. At any other period of his life, the forester would, even against the odds of numbers, have made a desperate resistance; but the horror he had felt at the slaughter of an old companion, although in defence of his own life, together with fatigue and surprise, had altogether unmanned him, and he was seized as easily as a sheep is secured by the butcher. Dr. Rochecliffe offered some resistance, but was presently secured by the soldiers who pressed around him.

”Look, some of you,” said Cromwell, ”what corpse this is upon whom these lewd sons of Belial have done a murder-Corporal Grace-be-here Humgudgeon, see if thou knowest the face.”

”I profess I do, even as I should do mine own in a mirror,” snuffled the corporal, after looking on the countenance of the dead man by the help of the lantern. ”Of a verity it is our trusty brother in the faith, Joseph Tomkins.”

”Tomkins!” exclaimed Cromwell, springing forward and satisfying himself with a glance at the features of the corpse-”Tomkins!-and murdered, as the fracture of the temple intimates!-dogs that ye are, confess the truth-You have murdered him because you have discovered his treachery- I should say his true spirit towards the Commonwealth of England, and his hatred of those complots in which you would have engaged his honest simplicity.”

”Ay,” said Grace-be-here Humgudgeon, ”and then to misuse his dead body with your papistical doctrines, as if you had crammed cold porridge into its cold mouth. I pray thee, General, let these men's bonds be made strong.”

”Forbear, corporal,” said Cromwell; ”our time presses.-Friend, to you,-whom I believe to be Doctor Anthony Rochecliffe by name and surname, I have to give the choice of being hanged at daybreak to-morrow, or making atonement for the murder of one of the Lord's people, by telling what thou knowest of the secrets which are in yonder house.”

”Truly, sir,” replied Rochecliffe, ”you found me but in my duty as a clergyman, interring the dead; and respecting answering your questions, I am determined myself, and do advise my fellow-sufferer on this occasion”-

”Remove him,” said Cromwell; ”I know his stiffneckedness of old, though I have made him plough in my furrow, when he thought he was turning up his own swathe-Remove him to the rear, and bring hither the other fellow.-Come thou here-this way-closer-closer.-Corporal Grace-be-here, do thou keep thy hand upon the belt with which he is bound. We must take care of our life for the sake of this distracted country, though, lack-a-day, for its own proper worth we could peril it for a pin's point.-Now, mark me, fellow, choose betwixt buying thy life by a full confession, or being tucked presently up to one of these old oaks-How likest thou that?”

”Truly, master,” answered the under-keeper, affecting more rusticity than was natural to him, (for his frequent intercourse with Sir Henry Lee had partly softened and polished his manners,) ”I think the oak is like to bear a l.u.s.ty acorn-that is all.”

”Dally not with me, friend,” continued Oliver; ”I profess to thee in sincerity I am no trifler. What guests have you seen at yonder house called the Lodge?”

”Many a brave guest in my day, I'se warrant ye, master,” said Joceline. ”Ah, to see how the chimneys used to smoke some twelve years back! Ah, sir, a sniff of it would have dined a poor man.”

”Out, rascal!” said the General, ”dost thou jeer me? Tell me at once what guests have been of late in the Lodge-and look thee, friend, be a.s.sured, that in rendering me this satisfaction, thou shalt not only rescue thy neck from the halter, but render also an acceptable service to the State, and one which I will see fittingly rewarded. For, truly, I am not of those who would have the rain fall only on the proud and stately plants, but rather would, so far as my poor wishes and prayers are concerned, that it should also fall upon the lowly and humble gra.s.s and corn, that the heart of the husbandman may be rejoiced, and that as the cedar of Lebanon waxes in its height, in its boughs, and in its roots, so may the humble and lowly hyssop that groweth upon the walls flourish, and-and, truly-Understand'st thou me, knave?”

”Not entirely, if it please your honour,” said Joceline; ”but it sounds as if you were preaching a sermon, and has a marvellous tw.a.n.g of doctrine with it.”

”Then, in one word-thou knowest there is one Louis Kerneguy, or Carnego, or some such name, in hiding at the Lodge yonder?”

”Nay, sir,” replied the under-keeper, ”there have been many coming and going since Worcester-field; and how should I know who they are?-my service is out of doors, I trow.”

”A thousand pounds,” said Cromwell, ”do I tell down to thee, if thou canst place that boy in my power.”

”A thousand pounds is a marvellous matter, sir,” said Joceline; ”but I have more blood on my hand than I like already. I know not how the price of life may thrive-and, 'scape or hang, I have no mind to try.”

”Away with him to the rear,” said the General; ”and let him not speak with his yoke-fellow yonder-Fool that I am, to waste time in expecting to get milk from mules.-Move on towards the Lodge.”

They moved with the same silence as formerly, notwithstanding the difficulties which they encountered from being unacquainted with the road and its various intricacies. At length they were challenged, in a low voice, by one of their own sentinels, two concentric circles of whom had been placed around the Lodge, so close to each other, as to preclude the possibility of an individual escaping from within. The outer guard was maintained partly by horse upon the roads and open lawn, and where the ground was broken and bushy, by infantry. The inner circle was guarded by foot soldiers only. The whole were in the highest degree alert, expecting some interesting and important consequences from the unusual expedition on which they were engaged.

”Any news, Pearson?” said the General to his aide-de-camp, who came instantly to report to his superior.

He received for answer, ”None.”

Cromwell led his officer forward just opposite to the door of the Lodge, and there paused betwixt the circles of guards, so that their conversation could not be overheard.

He then pursued his enquiry, demanding, ”Were there any lights-any appearances of stirring-any attempt at sally-any preparation for defence?”