CHAPTER III.

THE END OF A REGICIDE.

"Sound, thou Trumpet of God, come forth, Great Cause, to array us, King and leader appear, thy soldiers sorrowing seek thee." CLOUGH, _The Bothie._

A solid mass of people thronged the space where three roads met and Charing Cross once stood, and above the serried heads rose the black skeleton of the gallows and the executioner's fire crackled and leapt below. But the sight inspired little horror or pity in the throng: orange girls called their wares, squalid beggars beset beplumed gentlemen, burly ruffians shouldered back prim citizens in their broadcloth and silver buckles; the press, the smell, the noise of shouts and oaths and scraps of songs were much the same as had hailed the Second Charles's entry into London six months before; but the faces were changed, their coarse joviality was gone, and they were inflamed with the frenzy of the bull-fighter, the loathsome curiosity that will not miss one horrid detail, even if the gazer must trample down his own mother to get a better view of the butchery.

The shouts swelled into a deep roar of execration, as the sledge on which the prisoner lay bound neared the place of execution, and Richard Harrison, struggling to keep his place as close to the victim as he might, thought with grim bitterness of the day when this same mob, silent and cowed, had seen General Harrison ride back from the scaffold at Whitehall.

"The dastards dared not lift a finger then, though it was for their liberty we struck the blow. And this is the reward the people of England have reserved for their deliverers!" muttered Dick.

But no bitterness nor resentment darkened the prisoner's face, never had his glance been more serenely triumphant, and as he pressed nearer, Dick could catch above the yells and hootings, the rapturous words which he uttered, his hands and eyes raised to heaven.

"I bless the Lord," he said, "it's a day of joy for my soul. I do find so much of the joy of the Lord coming in, that I am carried far above the fear of death, going to receive that glorious crown which Christ hath prepared." And when one fellow cried out jeeringly, "Where is now your Good Old Cause?" he, with a cheerful smile, clapped his hand on his breast saying, "Here it is, and I am going to seal it with my blood."

Yet even the most callous were silent for a moment as the dying man spoke his last words from the ladder of the gallows, asserting once more that he was wrongfully charged with murder and bloodshed.

"I must tell you I have kept a good conscience towards God, neither did I act maliciously toward any person, but as I judged them to be enemies to God and his people."

And when his nephew came near for a last farewell, he repeated once more--

"It's hard for most to follow God in such a dispensation as this, and yet my Lord and Master is as sweet and glorious to me now as He was in the time of my greatest prosperity;" and then, embracing his friends in farewell, he committed his spirit into the hands of God and was, the bystanders declared, "not so much thrown off the ladder by the executioner, but went readily off himself."

The butchery of the sentence for treason was carried out to the bitter end, yet of the onlookers there were but a few women who sobbed hysterically or fainted, and but one or two men who pushed their way back, sick with the sight and smell of the shambles.

A smartly dressed little gentleman, with a carefully curled wig, had forced his way as near as possible to the place of execution. His bold curious eyes let nothing pass unnoticed, yet when the torture of the half-dead victim was ended even his lips were somewhat white, though he shouted and waved his hat with the loyal rabble who cheered and cheered again at the headsman's final speech: "So perish all King Charles's enemies."

"So perish all his enemies," he repeated, "a very just vengeance, and 'tis my chance to see it, as it was to see the king die at Whitehall. But Lord, 'tis a bloody business--and to see how cheerful he bore it!" He rapped on his snuff-box and hemmed away his emotion. "Gad!" he said, suddenly staring at a face that rose above the crowd near him, "I was almost fool enough to think the fanatic's prophecy was come true, and there was General Harrison come alive again! That young fellow yonder is the very marrow of him! Some one of his family, I dare be sworn, poor wretch, and doubtless of the same way of thinking. But 'tis as handsome a young sprig as I have seen this long time. Lord, how time flies, and how one forgets business when there is any pleasuring toward; my lord will be in a fine fume;" and Mr. Samuel Pepys walked off towards the Admiralty offices without wasting another glance at Richard Harrison.

He also pushed blindly on out of the crowd, with the groping step of a sleep-walker, but as he neared the outskirts of the throng a tap on his shoulder seemed to awake him, and he straightened himself as he turned sharply round.

"Come under this archway till the crowd be past," said a short man muffled in a horseman's cloak. "You are too noticeable, Dick, to walk abroad to-day."

"It is as safe for me as for you, Mr. Rogers," returned Dick.

"Nay, nay; I am not like unto Saul the son of Kish for stature. Moreover, none who look on you can question you are kin to the servant of God who hath even now borne his witness, and this rabble is thirsty for the blood of the saints. Yet I know you have security--the friends with whom you have cast in your lot sit now in high places, and General Monck loves you well."

"General Monck is no friend of mine," returned the young man sternly. "His friends are those only who sit in the king's court, and can carry honours to his house."

"I am glad to hear it; I am heartily glad to hear it," replied Mr. Rogers. "The friendships of this evil generation will avail us little when the trumpet of the Lord of Hosts doth sound the reveille, and those poor bones yonder live once more, ay, and that dead hand beckon us on to victory."

Mr. Rogers was quivering with excitement, and did not notice that Richard was leaning against the wall with set face, evidently quite deaf to his harangue. He went on with increased vehemence in the wildest strain of Fifth Monarchy eloquence.

"The night is dark, yet must we watch till the day dawn!--watch--ay, and not alone shall our lamps be burning, but our matches are alight and our muskets loaded. The artillery of the Lord is called out, the iniquity of this Babylon is full, the saints are even now assembled, and expect the call to arms. Truly your good aunt doth forget her widowhood in the expectation of the day that is presently to break. You also will join us; I know it is long since you have heard the words of pure doctrine, yet there is a blessing in reserve for the seed of the righteous, and the filth of the Presbyterian doctrines you learned in Scotland shall not cleave unto your feet to make them stumble in the way."

He paused, discovering at last that his eloquence was entirely wasted.

"Dick," he urged, shaking the young man by the arm, "you will not turn your back on those who shared your uncle's tribulation, and who do presently expect to share his triumph."

Richard withdrew his arm haughtily. "Mr. Rogers," he answered, "you mistake if you imagine that I can join you and your friends in any of your mad undertakings. What I have seen to-day doth but show the clearer that our cause was lost through our unhappy divisions and distracted councils. I hold that those that turned my uncle's mind against the Lord Protector Cromwell will not be held guiltless when the blame of this day's work is reckoned up."

Mr. Rogers started back, and then, with a violent effort to control himself--

"For the sake of him who hath even now rendered up himself as a martyr for the Lord's cause, I may not be angry with any word of yours," he answered sadly; "but I do entreat of you to take heed! Would you lay down your arms and live in peace among your cattle and your corn, coached and complimented into effeminacy and foolishness? Oh, for shame! Rub your eyes and look about you! What was the fate of the men of Sodom when they thought Lot was one that mocked when he warned them!"

"Nay," answered Richard, "you do but lose time in seeking to persuade me. God forbid I should think you mock, but I hold you to be grievously mistaken. I think not the Kingdom of God is to be brought to us by the sword; nor will I be a party to endangering any shred of liberty yet left to the people of England by breaking the peace whether by word or deed."

"Yet listen," pleaded Rogers, "seeing that even a criminal before the judge is given freedom to make his defence."

"Say on; I will not interrupt you," answered Richard, wearily.

"Then, let us leave those things that are behind, whether well or ill done, and leave also the late Protector Oliver Cromwell, seeing his judgment is in the hands of the Judge of all, who will surely avenge the tribulation that serpent did bring upon the suffering saints--and hearken to what is yet to come. We have the most sure word of prophecy that the Day of the Lord is at hand; therefore the persecuted remnant who do expect the coming of the Fifth and only Monarch, are even now assembled with their swords upon their thighs, to publish their glorious gospel and go forth conquering and to conquer. And in the train of Him who sitteth upon the white horse, we do confidently expect to behold General Harrison and those other saints who have died, either as at this time, or formerly, for the Good Old Cause, raised again in the flesh, that we and they may all triumph as one man. Mrs. Harrison doth lay aside her sorrow, and abides with the saints in Colman Street, to add her praises and prayers unto theirs. When all go forth, let not one who bears the honoured name of Harrison hang back. Sure thou art no coward, Dick?"

"Do I take you, that you and your friends do presently intend to raise an insurrection in this city? cried Richard, in horror.

"Ay, we trust to do our humble part in the great warfare."

"And my unhappy aunt is now at your place of meeting?"

"Ay; she even now expects till the fruition of our hopes be granted, and General Harrison doth arise from death to lead us on to victory."

"Then, Mr. Rogers, I will go with you. Hold," as the other raised his hand in an ecstasy of thankfulness, "I go not to join you, but to speak a word of common sense to your misguided followers, if they will hear it, and to remove Mrs. Harrison to a place more fitting her sex. You cannot wish to involve a woman in your schemes of bloodshed!"

"You err--you err," broke in the irrepressible fanatic. "Women have been but too much denied their just liberty: they have a right as men to their free course of speech, and to follow the way their conscience doth point. Nevertheless, you shall say to Sister Harrison all that is in your heart, and she shall act as the Lord shall direct her, and if she elect to go forth into desert places and await the consummation of our hopes afar off, in fasting and prayer, in that fashion also she may serve the Good Old Cause. Now that the crowd is dispersed, we may go forth in safety; let us therefore hasten to put the matter to the touch."

Richard followed Mr. Rogers in silence as he emerged from their place of shelter, and hurried cityward along the less crowded streets that lay northward of the Strand. He strode along behind the flying form of the little minister, inwardly furious at the saintly and exasperating person who forced him to seek out the company that was precisely the most painful and uncongenial to him, when his one sole idea was to hide himself in solitude like some wounded animal and there wrestle down the grief and horror that possessed him. Yet the grief and horror was still only in the background of his mind, his brain felt numbed, though an instinctive dread warned him that they lurked there ready at the first opportunity to spring out on him with overwhelming force. It was only by an effort that he could rouse himself to consider what steps he must take to remove Mrs. Harrison from the party of desperate men among whom she had thrown herself.

He knew that the extraordinary person in whose company he walked was completely deaf to the usual reasons that govern men's conduct; but, mixed up with his insane and even blasphemous beliefs, Mr. Rogers had occasional flashes of what can only be termed inspired common sense; and if he were judiciously approached, it was even possible that such an incalculable person might use his influence to restrain the old soldiers of his congregation from rushing on immediate destruction. Mr. Rogers was a gentleman by birth and a scholar by training, and was therefore accessible to arguments that did not affect the ruder members of his sect.

Richard had been familiar with Mr. Rogers from his boyhood, and had a strong personal liking for the affectionate and unselfish little man as well as a real admiration for the saner points in his doctrines. But the more he considered, the less he saw how to remonstrate with the excitable minister without irritating him afresh, and finally, in the very desperation of helplessness, he resolved to trust to his own influence over Mrs. Harrison, and hope that Mr. Roger's kindly feelings would prevent his interfering in any tyrannical manner with the poor lady's wishes. Having come to this conclusion, he controlled himself sufficiently to speak to his companion in a more friendly tone.

"By your leave, sir, I should like to stay and give orders as I pass our lodgings. Mrs. Harrison had set to leave London instantly, and a hackney coach will be now in waiting at our door. It will be the better to have it near at hand should she resolve to carry out that intention; so, if it please you, I will bid the coachman drive her woman to Colman Street and await near your meeting house till we know her will."

The minister readily assented, and they turned into Watling Street, where, as Dick had foretold, a hackney coach stood ready packed before the mercer's shop that had belonged to Mrs. Harrison's father, and a groom was leading a stout cob up and down beside it. A waiting woman in hood and cloak was peering anxiously from the door, but as Dick ran up the steps he was surprised to find she was not the only watcher. An officer in the gay uniform of the Coldstream Guards came forward holding out his hand.

"I have waited a round hour to catch you, Harrison," he said. "I bring you a message from my Lord Monck."

"I am sorry my lord should have troubled you," answered Dick, stiffly.

"Tut, tut, Harrison; what though we have forsworn our protectorate sins and got a batch of new ones to suit the new times, we are not all born to be play-book heroes like you. There are worse men than old George, and you were as well to listen to his message." And, taking Dick by the arm, the officer continued earnestly, in a low tone, "You remember that fellow, Patrick Keith, with whom you quarrelled in Edinburgh; he is here in London in my Lord Lauderdale's household, and he swears he will be revenged on you. He gives out he has sufficient evidence that you are corresponding with Johnson of Warriston and the other Scotch gentlemen under sentence of outlawry, and that he will see you at the gallows before he leaves you. Now, you know the fellow is quite able to forge or trump up evidence enough to be mighty unpleasant, so Lord Monck prays you give no colour to anything he may say, by frequenting the company of any suspicious or fanatical people. If you can keep private a while, his lordship makes no doubt it will all blow over, and he will use his influence to have Keith sent back to Scotland, or over sea on some errand."

"I caned Keith in the High Street of Edinburgh for that he kicked a woman who by chance stood in his way," answered Dick, hotly; "and if I meet him in Fleet Street, I will cane him once more there."

"That will doubtless be much to the advantage of Keith's manners," laughed the other, "but scarce to the furtherance of your safety! Now, I ride to Harrow to-night--why will you not bear me company and lie at my house, and so travel into the country for a while. On my honour, Keith is a dangerous man," he continued, seeing that Richard's expression of careless contempt did not change. "Every one of us at court finds his new seat so slippery that he dare not wag a finger for fear of being upset--and I know none there who dare meddle with my Lord Lauderdale's favourite. He can tell such a cursed lot of tales of us all and what we did in Edinburgh in the days when we were all saints and went to meeting!"

"You are very good," answered Dick, softening; "but I purpose to leave London within this hour. You see my horse there in waiting."

"I am right glad to hear it," answered the other, heartily. "Then, farewell, but I trust we shall meet and be merry many a year after Pat Keith is hanged," and shaking Harrison warmly by the hand, the guardsman turned on his heel and swaggered down the street.

Dick smiled grimly to himself as he directed the waiting-maid to follow her mistress in the coach to the Coleman Street meeting-house.

"I am to avoid the company of fanatical people," he muttered. "Heaven knows I have as little love for them as Old George can have! If I can but get Aunt Harrison safe into the coach, I give them leave to clap a Geneva gown on my back if ever I am found in their company again."

The shabby room in Coleman Street, where the Fifth Monarchy men were in the habit of assembling, was crowded with men, and the first glance showed with what ominous intentions the congregation were assembled. On a rickety platform at the end of the of the room a preacher in a Geneva gown was holding forth in the most violent language of the sect, and all around the grim listeners hung on his words with immovable attention, leaning on their pikes or holding their drawn swords across their knees. Many were old soldiers, their stained buff-coats and scarred faces telling tales of Naseby and Marston Moor, and contrasting with the prim bands and well-brushed cloaks of the citizen members of the congregation.

As the new-comers entered, the preacher paused in his harangue, and a hum of welcome went up from the armed ranks to greet their arrival. But one white-haired old soldier sprang up with a shout of exultation that was almost a scream.

"Glory, glory," he shrieked, "the General is risen from the dead! The power of Satan is broken!" and rushing forward he flung his arms round Dick in an ecstacy of welcome.

"Nay, nay, brother Day," said Mr. Rogers, stepping forward, "you mistake; this is Richard Harrison who fought beside you at Worcester; he is come to speak with his kinswoman. We must yet for a little possess our souls with patience," he continued; drawing the old man's hand on his arm, and leading him to a seat he sat down beside him, exhorting him in a low voice, while Dick made his way to the corner where Mrs. Harrison sat, her head bowed on her hands.

To his astonishment and relief, she did not immediately refuse his invitation to accompany him; a woman of gentle nature and rather dull intelligence, she naturally clung to her nephew as the dearest thing left to her in her sorrow, and although she pleaded at first faintly that he would not take her away from the comfort of Mr. Feake's exhortations and the expectation of the miracle he foretold, she showed herself quite ready to listen to his persuasions.

"Dearest madam," he urged, "when the Great Day of the Lord doth arrive, it will surely be of no moment whether it find you in London or in Newcastle; it will be as the lightning that shineth from the east even unto the west. But for to-day they are at an end of the preaching; you will hear no more if you tarry; you see these men have their weapons prepared, and are ready to burst out into insurrection; this is no fit place for you."

She murmured something of going back to her house in Watling Street.

"Nay, nay," urged Richard; "all our friends in Newcastle await you. Come home with me to Staffordshire, and await events there. Sure it is in General Harrison's own house that he would desire you to be?"

He took her hand to lead her from the room, and she rose obediently; but several of the congregation who sat near and observed his action, protested in audible tones, and those further off, only half catching what was going on, joined in even more loudly.

"Who is this man who is not of us, and hath forced himself among us?" cried one. "A spy! a spy!" cried another.

Mr. Rogers pushed forward.

"Shame, shame, brethren; let no man dare to call the kinsman of a martyr a spy! This is Richard Harrison, and it is but decent he have leave to come and go and speak with his kinswoman in liberty."

"Nay," broke in another, "as for our sister Harrison, let her go in peace, seeing the day of slaughter is near, and the women should abide in safety by the stuff. But as for this man, he shall remain. Shall he go forth and sit lazily while his brethren fight for Canaan? It may be that godly exhortation and the example of valiant men may turn him from the error of his ways ere it be too late."

"Ay," cried a grizzled soldier pressing forward, "he shall be snatched out of the fire! Even by force shall he be turned from the way of destruction, and be found in the Lord's ranks on the day of Armageddon."

"Gentlemen," broke in Richard, "let me but carry Mrs. Harrison to her coach, and upon my honour I will return and give you my reasons for not joining with you. Let us not fall into debate before a lady."

After a little hesitation his hearers agreed, and Richard led his trembling aunt out of the meeting-house, but two sturdy armed fanatics followed him closely to make sure he did not escape from the advantages they proposed to force him to accept.

The shouts and excitement in the meeting-house had warned the passers-by that something was in the wind, and a good many loiterers were hanging about the doors, who welcomed them with cries of "Whoop, Roundhead! whoop, crop ears!" and ribald parodies on the war-like psalms, whose sound could be clearly heard through the open windows of the room they had just left.

To Dick's vexation many of the idlers seemed familiar with the names of the leaders of the Fifth Monarchy sect, and not only shouted for Parson Rogers, but hailed Madam Harrison and her nephew with expressions of mock respect. Dick hurried her into the coach with all speed, and signed to his servant to lead his horse down a retired alley, but the aspect of the gathering crowd was so threatening, and that of his attendant saints so grim, that he began to suspect that his only escape from being stoned by the unbelieving mob, or run through by a Fifth Monarchy corporal, would be to be laid by the heels in a city jail!

But the rising commotion in the street was nothing to the commotion that greeted Dick as he re-entered the meeting-house. Some were clamouring for vengeance on the spy who had signalled the mob to gather round their door, others urging Richard to save himself from the fate awaiting impenitent sinners by immediately drawing his sword in the Fifth Monarchy cause, while others, of whom Mr. Rogers was chief, were clamouring for liberty for tender conscience and long suffering with those of feeble faith. The shouting was so violent that the congregation effectually deafened themselves to the knocking that began to make itself heard at the door of the room, and it was not till the knocking changed to the clang of crowbars, and the door gave way before the assailants, that the excited fanatics realized that their enemies were upon them. The doorways were filled with the pikes and muskets of a strong body of soldiers, and an officer pressing his way to the front called upon the principal leaders of the Fifth Monarchy men by name to surrender themselves. Feake, Powell, John Rogers, Courteney, Day, and Richard Harrison were the names that rang out above the shouts of the sectaries, who, crying out that the day of the Lord was come, charged outwards with such impetuosity that the soldiers were for a moment forced backwards.

Dick stood watching the conflict with a feeling of grim amusement. Fate had played into the hands of his Scotch enemy with a vengeance, and his presence among these desperate fanatics would corroborate any accusation that the ingenuity of malice could invent. His arm was caught by John Rogers.

"Fly, Dick, fly," he urged; "thou art not one of us, neither hast thou any part in our warfare. Save thyself; that window looks out on a lane they will scarce have thought to guard."

"Come you too, Mr. Rogers," cried Dick, endeavouring to draw the minister towards the open window.

"Nay, nay, I abide with my comrades to live and die with them. But begone--your time is not yet; none but the elect may abide the fury of the Lord's foemen. Begone."

Richard hesitated. It was impossible to escape and leave this heroic fanatic to his fate; but words were wasted on John Rogers, so, suddenly seizing the minister's slight form in his stalwart arms, Dick thrust him up on the high window-sill and, swinging himself up beside him, dropped with his prisoner into the soft mud of a back lane. Without waiting for the reproaches Mr. Rogers was too breathless to formulate, Dick hurried him down the dark road toward the corner where he knew his horse was waiting.

"Mount behind me, sir," he urged, catching the rein from the trusty servant.

"Nay, nay," replied Mr. Rogers; "thou art a good lad, Dick, and it may be the Lord hath reserved both thee and me for further service. I have many friends and hiding places in this city--go thy way, and God be with thee;" and he vanished into the shadows, while Dick, drawing in the cool night air with a long breath of relief, struck into the road for the north, and left the shouts and yells of the combatants far behind him.