HOW ROUGH LEE WAS AGAIN BESIEGED.

Parson Holden, it will be remembered, left Rough Lee, charged by Potts with a message to Sir Ralph Assheton, informing him of his detention and that of Roger Nowell, by Mistress Nutter, and imploring him to come to their assistance without delay.  Congratulating himself on his escape, but apprehensive of pursuit, the worthy rector, who, as a keen huntsman, was extremely well mounted, made the best of his way, and had already passed the gloomy gorge through which Pendle Water swept, had climbed the hill beyond it, and was crossing the moor now alone lying between him and Goldshaw, when he heard a shout behind him, and, turning at the sound, beheld Blackadder and another mounted serving-man issuing from a thicket, and spurring furiously after him.  Relying upon the speed of his horse, he disregarded their cries, and accelerated his pace; but, in spite of this, his pursuers gained upon him rapidly.

While debating the question of resistance or surrender, the rector descried Bess Whitaker coming towards him from the opposite direction a circumstance that greatly rejoiced him; for, aware of her strength and courage, he felt sure he could place as much dependence upon her in this emergency as on any man in the county.  Bess was riding a stout, rough-looking nag, apparently well able to sustain her weight, and carried the redoubtable horsewhip with her.

On the other hand, Holden had been recognised by Bess, who came up just as he was overtaken and seized by his assailants, one of whom caught hold of his cassock, and tore it from his back, while the other, seizing hold of his bridle, endeavoured, in spite of his efforts to the contrary, to turn his horse round.  Many oaths, threats, and blows were exchanged during the scuffle, which no doubt would have terminated in the rector’s defeat, and his compulsory return to Rough Lee, had it not been for the opportune arrival of Bess, who, swearing as lustily as the serving-men, and brandishing the horsewhip, dashed into the scene of action, and, with a few well-applied cuts, liberated the divine.  Enraged at her interference, and smarting from the application of the whip, Blackadder drew a petronel from his girdle, and levelled it at her head; but, ere he could discharge it, the weapon was stricken from his grasp, and a second blow on the head from the but-end of the whip felled him from his horse.  Seeing the fate of his companion, the other serving-man fled, leaving Bess mistress of the field.

The rector thanked her heartily for the service she had rendered him, and complimented her on her prowess.

“Ey’n neaw dun mitch to boast on i’ leatherin’ them two seawr-feaced rapscallions,” said Bess, with becoming modesty.  “Simon Blackadder an ey ha’ had mony a tussle together efore this, fo he’s a feaw tempert felly, an canna drink abowt fightin’, boh he has awlus found me more nor his match.  Boh save us, your reverence, what were the ill-favort gullions ridin’ after ye for?  Firrups tak ’em! they didna mean to rob ye, surely?”

“Their object was to make me prisoner, and carry me back to Rough Lee, Bess,” replied Holden.  “They wished to prevent my going to Whalley, whither I am bound, to procure help from Sir Ralph Assheton to liberate Master Roger Nowell and his attorney, who are forcibly detained by Mistress Nutter.”

“Yo may spare yer horse an yersel the jorney, then, reverend sir,” replied Bess; “for yo’n foind Sir Tummus Metcawfe, wi’ some twanty or throtty followers, armed wi’ bills, hawberts, petronels, and calivers, at Goldshaw, an they win go wi’ ye at wanst, ey’m sartin.  Ey heerd sum o’ t’ chaps say os ow Sir Tummus is goin’ to tak’ possession o’ Mistress Robinson’s house, Raydale Ha’, i’ Wensley Dale, boh nah doubt he’n go furst wi’ yer rev’rence, ’specially as he bears Mistress Nutter a grudge.”

“At all events, I will ask him,” said Holden.  “Are he and his followers lodged at your house, Bess?”

“Yeigh,” replied the hostess, “some on ‘en are i’ th’ house, some i’ th’ barn, an some i’ th’ stables.  The place is awtogether owerrun wi’ ’em.  Ey wur so moydert an wurrotit wi’ their ca’in an bawlin fo’ ele an drink, that ey swore they shouldna ha’ another drawp wi’ my consent; an, to be os good os my word, ey clapt key o’ t’ cellar i’ my pocket, an leavin’ our Margit to answer ’em, ey set out os yo see, intendin’ to go os far as t’ mill, an comfort poor deeavely Ruchot Baldwyn in his trouble.”

“A most praiseworthy resolution, Bess,” said the rector; “but what is to be done with this fellow?” he added, pointing to Blackadder, who, though badly hurt, was trying to creep towards the petronel, which was lying at a little distance from him on the ground.

Perceiving his intention, Bess quickly dismounted, and possessing herself of the weapon, stepped aside, and slipping off one of the bands that confined the hose on her well-shaped leg, grasped the wounded man by the shoulders, and with great expedition tied his hands behind his back.  She then lifted him up with as much ease as if he had been an infant, and set him upon his horse, with his face towards the tail.  This done, she gave the bridle to the rector, and handing him the petronel at the same time, told him to take care of his prisoner, for she must pursue her journey.  And with this, in spite of his renewed entreaties that she would go back with him, she sprang on her horse and rode off.

On arriving at Goldshaw with his prisoner, the rector at once proceeded to the hostel, in front of which he found several of the villagers assembled, attracted by the numerous company within doors, whose shouts and laughter could be heard at a considerable distance.  Holden’s appearance with Blackadder occasioned considerable surprise, and all eagerly gathered round him to learn what had occurred; but, without satisfying their curiosity, beyond telling them he had been attacked by the prisoner, he left him in their custody and entered the house, where he found all the benches in the principal room occupied by a crew of half-drunken roysterers, with flagons of ale before them; for, after Bess’s departure with the key, they had broken into the cellar, and, broaching a cask, helped themselves to its contents.  Various weapons were scattered about the tables or reared against the walls, and the whole scene looked like a carouse by a band of marauders.  Little respect was shown the rector, and he was saluted by many a ribald jest as he pushed his way towards the inner room.

Sir Thomas was drinking with a couple of desperadoes, whose long rapiers and tarnished military equipments seemed to announce that they had, at some time or other, belonged to the army, though their ruffianly looks and braggadocio air and discourse, strongly seasoned with oaths and slang, made it evident that they were now little better than Alsatian bullies.  They had, in fact, been hired by Sir Thomas for the expedition on which he was bent, as he could find no one in the country upon whom he could so well count as on them.  Eyeing the rector fiercely, as he intruded upon their privacy, they glanced at their leader to ask whether they should turn him out; but, receiving no encouragement for such rudeness, they contented themselves with scowling at him from beneath their bent brows, twisting up their shaggy mustaches, and trifling with the hilts of their rapiers.  Holden opened his business at once; and as soon as Sir Thomas heard it, he sprang to his feet, and, swearing a great oath, declared he would storm Rough Lee, and burn it to the ground, if Mistress Nutter did not set the two captives free.

“As to the audacious witch herself, I will carry her off, in spite of the devil, her master!” he cried.  “How say you, Captain Gauntlet and you too, Captain Storks, is not this an expedition to your tastes ha?”

The two worthies appealed to responded joyously, that it was so; and it was then agreed that Blackadder should be brought in and interrogated, as some important information might be obtained from him.  Upon this, Captain Gauntlet left the room to fetch him, and presently afterwards returned dragging in the prisoner, who looked dogged and angry, by the shoulders.

“Harkye, fellow,” said Sir Thomas, sternly, “if you do not answer the questions I shall put to you, truly and satisfactorily, I will have you taken out into the yard, and shot like a dog.  Thus much premised, I shall proceed with my examination.  Master Roger Nowell and Master Thomas Potts, you are aware, are unlawfully detained prisoners by Mistress Alice Nutter.  Now I have been called upon by the reverend gentleman here to undertake their liberation, but, before doing so, I desire to know from you what defensive and offensive preparations your mistress has made, and whether you judge it likely she will attempt to hold out her house against us?”

“Most assuredly she will,” replied Blackadder, “and against twice your force.  Rough Lee is as strong as a castle; and as those within it are well-armed, vigilant, and of good courage, there is little fear of its capture.  If your worship should propose terms to my mistress for the release of her prisoners, she may possibly assent to them; but if you approach her in hostile fashion, and demand their liberation, I am well assured she will resist you, and well assured, also, she will resist you effectually.”

“I shall approach her in no other sort than that of an enemy,” rejoined Sir Thomas; “but thou art over confident, knave.  Unless thy mistress have a legion of devils at her back, and they hold us in check, we will force a way into her dwelling.  Fire and fury! dost presume to laugh at me, fellow?  Take him hence, and let him be soundly cudgeled for his insolence, Gauntlet.”

“Pardon me, your worship,” cried Blackadder, “I only smiled at the strange notions you entertain of my mistress.”

“Why, dost mean to deny that she is a witch?” demanded Metcalfe.

“Nay, if your worship will have it so, it is not for me to contradict you,” replied Blackadder.

“But I ask thee is she not a servant of Satan? dost thou not know it? canst thou not prove it?” cried the knight.  “Shall we put him to the torture to make him confess?”

“Ay, tie his thumbs together till the blood burst forth, Sir Thomas,” said Gauntlet.

“Or hang him up to yon beam by the heels,” suggested Captain Storks.

“On no account,” interposed Holden.  “I did not bring him hither to be dealt with in this way, and I will not permit it.  If torture is to be administered it must be by the hands of justice, into which I require him to be delivered; and then, if he can testify aught against his mistress, he will be made to do it.”

“Torture shall never wring a word from me, whether wrongfully or rightfully applied,” said Blackadder, doggedly; “though I could tell much if I chose.  Now give heed to me, Sir Thomas.  You will never take Rough Lee, still less its mistress, without my help.”

“What are thy terms, knave?” exclaimed the knight, pondering upon the offer.  “And take heed thou triflest not with me, or I will have thee flogged within an inch of thy life, in spite of parson or justice.  What are thy terms, I repeat?”

“They are for your worship’s ear alone,” replied Blackadder.

“Beware what you do, Sir Thomas,” interposed Holden.  “I hold it my duty to tell you, you are compromising justice in listening to the base proposals of this man, who, while offering to betray his mistress, will assuredly deceive you.  You will equally deceive him in feigning to agree to terms which you cannot fulfil.”

“Cannot fulfil!” ejaculated the knight, highly offended; “I would have you to know, sir, that Sir Thomas Metcalfe’s word is his bond, and that whatsoever he promises he will fulfil in spite of the devil!  Body o’ me! but for the respect I owe your cloth, I would give you a very different answer, reverend sir.  But since you have chosen to thrust yourself unasked into the affair, I take leave to say that I will hear this knave’s proposals, and judge for myself of the expediency of acceding to them.  I must pray you therefore, to withdraw.  Nay, if you will not go hence peaceably, you shall perforce.  Take him away, gentlemen.”

Thus enjoined, the Alsatian captains took each an arm of the rector, and forced him out of the room, leaving Sir Thomas alone with the prisoner.  Greatly incensed at the treatment he had experienced, Holden instantly quitted the house, hastened to the rectory, which adjoined the church, and having given some messages to his household, rode off to Whalley, with the intention of acquainting Sir Ralph Assheton with all that had occurred.

Sir Thomas Metcalfe remained closeted with the prisoner for a few minutes, and then coming forth, issued orders that all should get ready to start for Rough Lee without delay; whereupon each man emptied his flagon, pocketed the dice he had been cogging, pushed aside the shuffle-board, left the loggats on the clay floor of the barn, and, grasping his weapon halbert or caliver, as it might be prepared to attend his leader.  Sir Thomas did not relate, even to the Alsatian captains, what had passed between him and Blackadder; but it did not appear that he placed entire confidence in the latter; for though he caused his hands to be unbound, and allowed him in consideration of his wounded state to ride, he secretly directed Gauntlet and Storks to keep near him, and shoot him through the head if he attempted to escape.  Both these personages were provided with horses as well as their leader, but all the rest of the party were on foot.  Metcalfe made some inquiries after the rector, but finding he was gone, he did not concern himself further about him.  Before starting, the knight, who, with all his recklessness, had a certain sense of honesty, called the girl who had been left in charge of the hostel by Bess, and gave her a sum amply sufficient to cover all the excesses of his men, adding a handsome gratuity to herself.

The first part of the journey was accomplished without mischance, and the party bade fair to arrive at the end of it in safety; but as they entered the gorge, at the extremity of which Rough Lee was situated, a terrific storm burst upon them, compelling them to seek shelter in the mill, from which they were luckily not far distant at the time.  The house was completely deserted, but they were well able to shift for themselves, and not over scrupulous in the manner of doing so; and as the remains of the funeral feast were not removed from the table, some of the company sat down to them, while others found their way to the cellar.

The storm was of long continuance, much longer than was agreeable to Sir Thomas, and he paced the room to and fro impatiently, ever and anon walking to the window or door, to see whether it had in any degree abated, and was constantly doomed to disappointment.  Instead of diminishing, it increased in violence, and it was now impossible to quit the house with safety.  The lightning blazed, the thunder rattled among the overhanging rocks, and the swollen stream of Pendle Water roared at their feet.  Blackadder was left under the care of the two Alsatians, but while they had shielded their eyes from the glare of the lightning, he threw open the window, and, springing through it, made good his retreat.  In such a storm it was in vain to follow him, even if they had dared to attempt it.

In vain Sir Thomas Metcalfe fumed and fretted in vain he heaped curses upon the bullies for their negligence in vain he hurled menaces after the fugitive:  the former paid little heed to his imprecations, and the latter was beyond his reach.  The notion began to gain ground amongst the rest of the troop that the storm was the work of witchcraft, and occasioned general consternation.  Even the knight’s anger yielded to superstitious fear, and as a terrific explosion shook the rafters overhead, and threatened to bring them down upon him, he fell on his knees, and essayed, with unaccustomed lips, to murmur a prayer.  But he was interrupted; for amid the deep silence succeeding the awful crash, a mocking laugh was heard, and the villainous countenance of Blackadder, rendered doubly hideous by the white lightning, was seen at the casement.  The sight restored Sir Thomas at once.  Drawing his sword he flew to the window, but before he could reach it Blackadder was gone.  The next flash showed what had befallen him.  In stepping backwards, he tumbled into the mill-race; and the current, increased in depth and force by the deluging rain, instantly swept him away.

Half an hour after this, the violence of the storm had perceptibly diminished, and Sir Thomas and his companions began to hope that their speedy release was at hand.  Latterly the knight had abandoned all idea of attacking Rough Lee, but with the prospect of fair weather his courage returned, and he once more resolved to attempt it.  He was moving about among his followers, striving to dispel their fears, and persuade them that the tempest was only the result of natural causes, when the door was suddenly thrown open, giving entrance to Bess Whitaker, who bore the miller in her arms.  She stared on seeing the party assembled, and knit her brows, but said nothing till she had deposited Baldwyn in a seat, when she observed to Sir Thomas, that he seemed to have little scruple in taking possession of a house in its owner’s absence.  The knight excused himself for the intrusion by saying, he had been compelled by the storm to take refuge there with his followers a plea readily admitted by Baldwyn, who was now able to speak for himself; and the miller next explained that he had been to Rough Lee, and after many perilous adventures, into the particulars of which he did not enter, had been brought away by Bess, who had carried him home.  That home he now felt would be a lonely and insecure one unless she would consent to occupy it with him; and Bess, on being thus appealed to, affirmed that the only motive that would induce her to consent to such an arrangement would be her desire to protect him from his mischievous neighbours.  While they were thus discoursing, Old Mitton, who it appeared had followed them, arrived wellnigh exhausted, and Baldwyn went in search of some refreshment for him.

By this time the storm had sufficiently cleared off to allow the others to take their departure; and though the miller and Bess would fain have dissuaded the knight from the enterprise, he was not to be turned aside, but, bidding his men attend him, set forth.  The rain had ceased, but it was still very dark.  Under cover of the gloom, however, they thought they could approach the house unobserved, and obtain an entrance before Mistress Nutter could be aware of their arrival.  In this expectation they pursued their way in silence, and soon stood before the gates.  These were fastened, but as no one appeared to be on the watch, Sir Thomas, in a low tone, ordered some of his men to scale the walls, with the intention of following himself; but scarcely had a head risen above the level of the brickwork than the flash of an arquebuss was seen, and the man jumped backwards, luckily just in time to avoid the bullet that whistled over him.  An alarm was then instantly given, voices were heard in the garden, mingled with the furious barking of hounds.  A bell was rung from the upper part of the house, and lights appeared at the windows.

Meanwhile, some of the men, less alarmed than their comrade, contrived to scramble over the wall, and were soon engaged hand to hand with those on the opposite side.  But not alone had they to contend with adversaries like themselves.  The stag-hounds, which had done so much execution during the first attack upon the house by Roger Nowell, raged amongst them like so many lions, rending their limbs, and seizing their throats.  To free themselves from these formidable antagonists was their first business, and by dint of thrust from pike, cut from sword, and ball from caliver, they succeeded in slaughtering two of them, and driving the others, badly wounded, and savagely howling, away.  In doing this, however, they themselves had sustained considerable injury.  Three of their number were lying on the ground, in no condition, from their broken heads, or shattered limbs, for renewing the combat.

Thus, so far as the siege had gone, success seemed to declare itself rather for the defenders than the assailants, when a new impulse was given to the latter, by the bursting open of the gates, and the sudden influx of Sir Thomas Metcalfe and the rest of his troop.  The knight was closely followed by the Alsatian captains, who, with tremendous oaths in their mouths, and slashing blades in their hands, declared they would make minced meat of any one opposing their progress.  Sir Thomas was equally truculent in expression and ferocious in tone, and as the whole party laid about them right and left, they speedily routed the defenders of the garden, and drove them towards the house.  Flushed by their success, the besiegers shouted loudly, and Sir Thomas roared out, that ere many minutes Nowell and Potts should be set free, and Alice Nutter captured.  But before he could reach the main door, Nicholas Assheton, well armed, and attended by some dozen men, presented himself at it.  These were instantly joined by the retreating party, and the whole offered a formidable array of opponents, quite sufficient to check the progress of the besiegers.  Two or three of the men near Nicholas carried torches, and their light revealed the numbers on both sides.

“What! is it you, Sir Thomas Metcalfe?” cried the squire.  “Do you commit such outrages as this do you break into habitations like a robber, rifle them, and murder their inmates?  Explain yourself, sir, or I will treat you as I would a common plunderer; shoot you through the head, or hang you to the first tree if I take you.”

“Zounds and fury!” rejoined Metcalfe.  “Do you dare to liken me to a common robber and murderer?  Take care you do not experience the same fate as that with which you threaten me, with this difference only, that the hangman the common hangman of Lancaster shall serve your turn.  I am come hither to arrest a notorious witch, and to release two gentlemen who are unlawfully detained prisoners by her; and if you do not instantly deliver her up to me, and produce the two individuals in question, Master Roger Nowell and Master Potts, I will force my way into the house, and all injury done to those who oppose me will rest on your head.”

“The two gentlemen you have named are perfectly safe and contented in their quarters,” replied Nicholas; “and as to the foul and false aspersions you have thrown out against Mistress Nutter, I cast them back in your teeth.  Your purpose in coming hither is to redress some private wrong.  How is it you have such a rout with you?  How is it I behold two notorious bravos by your side men who have stood in the pillory, and undergone other ignominious punishment for their offences?  You cannot answer, and their oaths and threats go for nothing.  I now tell you, Sir Thomas, if you do not instantly withdraw your men, and quit these premises, grievous consequences will ensue to you and them.”

“I will hear no more,” cried Sir Thomas, infuriated to the last degree.  “Follow me into the house, and spare none who oppose you.”

“You are not in yet,” cried Nicholas.

And as he spoke a row of pikes bristled around him, holding the knight at bay, while a hook was fixed in the doublet of each of the Alsatian captains, and they were plucked forward and dragged into the house.  This done, Nicholas and his men quickly retreated, and the door was closed and barred upon the enraged and discomfited knight.