Part 11
Off came his hat, with a sweeping bow, that would have done credit to a Cavalier; and he bent gallantly in the saddle to converse with the fair being who had waylaid him with the evident intention of speaking to him.
"Oh, sir," said the maid, her voice trembling with emotion, her face rosy with excitement and bashfulness; "you will forgive my father will you not? He is not a bad man, and if anything happened to him, it would break my heart, and my mother's also. Do not punish him, and mother and I will make amends in some way."
The Roundhead looked at the maid, then cast his eyes rapidly up and down the lane, and a twinkle of merriment shone in his glance.
"You are quite willing to compensate for your father's sins--to render a service if I pledge myself to silence on his misdeeds."
"I will do anything," said the maid, eagerly.
The Roundhead bent low in his saddle, until his face was dangerously near that of his companion. There was a look in his eyes which caused the maid to blush a deeper red, and set her heart pit-a-pat with a thrill of strange and joyous excitement.
"Then kiss me," was all he said.
The girl dropped her eyes a moment, then looked full into his, and finally raised her lips and kissed him.
"Now," she said, "remember your promise, and keep it."
Then with a mischievous nod of her head, that caused her curls to dance in the sun, she skipped out of his reach, and ran up the lane towards the farm.
He turned the horse as though to pursue her, but contented himself with calling after her, "Tell your mother not to trouble about the grey mare and the sheep. I will come for them myself--another day."
He doffed his hat, and the girl waved her hand; and then the Roundhead trotted off to explain in some cunning fashion how he had foolishly met with an accident, and if his colonel had no objection he would go for the grey mare and the sheep another day. The young man was a favourite officer with his superiors, and his colonel had no objection whatever, so the farmer heard no more about his attack upon the Parliamentary forager.
* * * * *
It is not to be supposed that human nature of the masculine gender, however much inclined to Puritanism, could, after having once tasted the sweet lips of the farmer's daughter, resist the longing for more of such delights. And so the Roundhead more than once or twice made his way towards the farm; and either, owing to his cleverness, or to the strangest coincidence, it so happened that he never returned to quarters without having held some converse with the maid.
In this way the time passed, and to the two lovers it seemed as though everything was sweet and fair, and as though war, and suffering, and death were not abroad in the land. Indeed, so far, the revolution had brought nothing but fortune to the young man, for he was already promised a captaincy when next the troops were put in motion; and then he would move onward to fresh adventures, wherein he hoped to add to his laurels, so that when the wars came to an end, he would have a position of some standing to offer to his bride.
At last there came a day when Colonel Dukinfield bade his men make ready to march. Messengers had ridden in on foam-flecked steeds, and it was understood that great events were about to transpire. The troops looked to their arms, burnished up their breast-plates, and head pieces, and after a busy day spent in preparations, made ready to pass their last night in Longdendale in the fashion that the Puritan soldier loved.
When the night had fallen, groups of soldiers were gathered within the best rooms of the farms whose owners--being favourers of the Parliament--had gladly welcomed and billeted the Roundheads, and the host having brought forth some musical instruments, which were tuned up forthwith, soon the voices of all were joining in a Puritan chant of praise. Loud and long that night sang the Puritans, and ever and anon, in the intervals between the chants, some of them, in nasal tones, would break out into prayer--strange old-fashioned petitions, in which the Lord was asked to strengthen the arms of the Parliament, and to sweep the Royalist faction away as the leaves are scattered before the wind. Then with the first break of day the bugles sounded; and, leaving the fair Longdendale land behind them, the Roundheads passed to scenes of grim contest--some joining in the conflicts in Yorkshire, others participating in different sieges in Lancashire and Cheshire. After their departure, Longdendale was visited in turn by bands of Cavaliers, who rode towards the points of strife; and then for a time the valley was left to its rural quietness.
For some weeks the maid heard nothing of her lover and her only consolation during his absence was to chat and talk with the wives and sweethearts of Longdendale men who had joined Colonel Dukinfield's troops, and ridden off to the fight.
One day, however, when the tasks about the farm were all done, she sat in the old-fashioned seat in the advanced porch of the steading, which looked out towards the west. It was the close of a glorious day, and far away over the great levels of the Cheshire plain, the sun was setting--flooding the earth and sky with a light that seemed too beautiful to be real. It was as though one looked right into the gates of heaven. The farmer and his wife were seated near, for they, too, were weary with the toil of the day, and were resting for a space in the cool of the evening before the darkness fell.
Suddenly the girl raised her head as though to listen, and then pointing towards the sunset, she uttered a loud scream.
"There, there! do you not see them? the Roundheads are beaten back, and their leader falls. It is he, my love--and oh!--they have slain him----"
Then she fell back into the seat and sobbed, and shivered, and moaned.
The farmer took her by the shoulders, and shook her.
"Art daft, my lass," said he, "or dreaming. What is it thou see'st?"
For a moment the girl could not do anything but sob and moan, then, recovering herself, she told her parents that, as she gazed at the sunset, it seemed as though the western heavens were alive with the figures of men--she could see the Roundhead troops rushing to the assault, at their head was the form of her lover, and even as she looked, the Royalists repulsed the attack, and in the melee she saw her lover fall, his brain pierced by a musket ball. It seemed, too, that she could hear the noise of the piece, and the death-shriek as he fell.
"Tut-tut," said the farmer, "'tis nothing but a dream. Thou hast been dozing, that is all."
The mother also tried to comfort her, and the two led her inside, but that night when the farmer and his spouse sought their chamber, the latter said in an awesome whisper:
"'Tis the gift of sight, good man. My grandmother had it; and I fear that the vision she has seen will prove true."
* * * * *
Some days passed, and nothing was heard of the great strife which waged beyond the valley; but one day a man, pale and thin from suffering, seated upon a jaded steed, rode wearily into Longdendale. Near Mottram town he met Yeoman Cooke, whom he accosted; and the latter looked at him with a start of surprise.
"Why, Jack, is't thee, my man?" said the farmer. "Bless me if I knew thee. Thou art just like a ghost."
"And I had nearly been turned into one, farmer," answered the man. "For I got a blow on my head in the fight just a week gone by to-day, which stretched me senseless; and other hurts about my body, have knocked out of me all the fighting for some months to come. 'Twas an evil day for Longdendale, and I trow that thy own home will be turned into a house of mourning by it. For this was how we fared. Even as the victory seemed assured, the Royalist rascals made a great rush, and by ill-luck our leader was shot dead, and other officers falling, we were beaten off. As for the Captain--well, I think he loved that lass of thine--King's man though thou art,--for in his breast, when we came to carry his body off, were certain keepsakes which I have seen thy daughter wear. There was also a letter addressed to her, and I have it with me here. Thou wilt tell her that he died as a brave man should die, and that he was worthy of her love to the last. I must ride on now, for it grows late, and I have ill-news to carry to other Longdendale women besides thy wench. This is the worst side of war."
"One moment," said the farmer, placing his hand on the bridle of the other's horse, "When did this happen?"
"A week ago to-day," replied the Roundhead. "Just as the sun set; and it was too late to renew the attack that day."
With that the man rode on, and the farmer was left alone.
"The good wife is right after all," he said to himself. "'Twas second sight, and the lass has the gift. We must keep the matter to ourselves, or the folk will think she is a witch."
Then he set his face homewards, and walked off wondering.
AUTHOR'S NOTE.
The following particulars from old historical documents will give the reader some idea of the part Longdendale played in the Civil War; they will also afford evidence of the unrest which was the predominant feature throughout the country, in the days of the great Rebellion.
Earwaker, the learned historian of East Cheshire, quotes a series of accounts from the Harleian MSS. These relate to Hollingworth in the time of the Civil War, and are the accounts "made and sworn unto by several inhabitants of the Township of Hollingworth" in 1645. The following extract will serve as a sample of the contents of this interesting document.
The accompts of Alexander Hollinworth, of Nearer Hollinworth, in the above said Townshippe.
Imprimis: I paid to Collonell Duckenfield, the 15th day of Deecmber (1643), for pposicon money 5 0 0
Itm: The same tyme ye said Collonell had of me a bay gueldinge ffor to be one in his Troope, well worth 5 6 8 Wch continued in his Troope until Candlemas after, and then was soe spoyled that he was not able to do any more service.
Itm: After the said horse was soe lamed I sent another horse in his roome, and a man to ride him, which horse hath beene in ye said troope ev since Candlemas after to this present tyme: the horse when I put him in was worth 8 10 0
Itm: I was att charges for the man that did ride ye said horse sev'all waies above 40tye shillings 2 0 0
Itm: When Sr William Breerton marched towards Yorke wth Cheshire fforces ffor ye assistance of that County, there was 250 horse and rydrs quartered at my house; the damage I had by them in eatinge my meadowe, killinge my sheepe, and plunderinge some of my goods privily, and consuminge my victualls they found in my house, to ye value att ye least of 20tie marks 13 6 8
Itm: The damage I sustayned in quarteringe some of Captaine Rich horse and foote ye most pte of halfe a yeare Anno 1642 att the least 10 0 0
Itm: The damage I sustayned in quarteringe div'se of Captaine Eyres Troope sev'all tymes in Ann 1642 and 1643 was att the least 5 0 0
Itm: In quarteringe some of Collonell Deukenfield souldrs, Major Bradshawes, and diverse others, the tyme when Prince Rupert came to Stockport, was att the least damages to me 3 6 8
Itm: In quarteringe of 18 Troopers of Sr William Breerton Companye when they marched towards Nottingham (as they said) about 5 or 6 weeks agoe 1 10 0
Itm: I have mainteyned one musquetyer from the beginninge of theise unhappy warres, and never had the value of one penny towards the charge thereof from the Publique 25 0 0
Item: I have been sometymes att charge of one and sometymes 3 souldrs more when any publique danger was, as div'se tymes into Darbishire, to Adlington, to ye raysinge of the siege of Namptwicke, wch I verily thinke cost me above 5 markes att the least 3 6 8 _____ Sum £82 6 8
John Hollinworth, of Hollingworth, had a similar bill of £70 16s., and the Booths and the Bretlands also sought recompense for the expense they had been put to in buying arms and quartering men.
One other old document may be quoted.
On the 8th of December, 1653, Colonel Dukinfield and Colonel Henry Bradshaw sat at Stockport to prepare a list of pensioners in the Stockport division in connection with the civil wars. The list contained the following names: Ellen Wagstaffe, whose husband was wounded at Adlington; Catherine Goodier, whose husband was slain at Nantwich; Ellen Heape, of Tintwistle, whose husband was slain at Nantwich; Elizabeth, wife of Hugh Wooley, slain at Chester; Jane Cooke, whose husband was slain at Middlewich; John Wylde, of Disley, wounded at Worcester; Thomas Hinchcliffe, wounded at Worcester; Elizabeth Small, whose husband was slain at Cholmondeley; Joan Small, whose husband was slain at Middlewich; John Sydebotham, wounded at Cholmondeley; Margaret Whewall, whose husband was slain at Selby; The widow of George Hopwood, wounded at Middlewich; Randal Cartwright, wounded at Hanmore; Margaret Ashton, whose husband was slain at Lichfield; Ellen Benetson, wife of William Benetson, of Dukinfield, wounded at Chester, and died.
It will be noticed that several of the above are names of Longdendale men.
XX.
A Tale of the '))45.
The year 1745 was a noteworthy year in the annals of Longdendale. In that year the valley was roused to excitement by the doings of Prince Charles Edward Stuart, the young Pretender, who, at the head of a large army, marched through Manchester and Stockport on his road to Derby. Many of the male portion of the inhabitants of Longdendale walked into either Manchester or Stockport to see the army pass, and to catch a glimpse of the romantic figure which might one day sit upon the throne of England. Most of these sightseers returned home full of the grand picture which the Scottish army presented; they told a great tale of how the Prince forded the river at Stockport, that the water took him up to the middle, that he wore a light plaid, and a blue bonnet, in which was set a milk-white rose.
These accounts greatly interested the inhabitants of Mottram town, who, like most people, loved to hear of martial doings at a distance. The Mottram folk, however, were not so highly elated when, a little later in the year, they heard that portions of the flying Scottish army were likely to pass through their town during the retreat from Derby. They would gladly have had the soldiers play the part of the Levite of old, and "pass by on the other side."
"A murrain on them," quoth the sexton, as he sat in the ingle of the "Black Bull's Head"--that homely tavern perched on the hillside just beneath the graveyard of Mottram Church. "Why cannot they even travel back the same gait they came, and leave our good Mottram folk in peace? Like enough if they come, there will be blows, and who knows but what my trade will flourish mightily. And that will be the only trade that will flourish if they get to fighting on this side of the border."
The maid who was attending to the wants of the customers pricked her ears at the conversation, and as she filled the sexton's glass, she joined in with her sweet woman's voice.
"For my part I should be glad to see them march through Mottram. They say that the Prince is a handsome gentleman, and brave as he is fair. One day he will be the King, and then, think what an honour it will be to Mottram, to have had his army billet in the town when he fought for his own. Moreover, as I hear, there be some of the best and bravest of the old families of Lancashire in his train, and we see too few of the real gentry hereabouts to throw away so fine a chance as this. As for the fighting, I see no sin in that when the good Prince but seeks to win back his own."
The sexton smiled at the maid's enthusiasm. He slowly charged his pipe, lit it, and when she had done, took the stem from his lips.
"You are a maid," said he; "and like all women, are easily carried away by a handsome face and a fine figure. And belike you are a supporter of the Stuarts. As for me, I am for King George. I know enough of the Stuarts never to wish them in power again. My grand-father was a youth when the great war was on, and he saw enough blood shed then through the follies of Charles the First to turn him and all his kin against the breed. I could tell you tales he told to me that would set your heart a sick at the very mention of a Stuart. And war is not the grand thing some folks think. It's all well when someone else gets the worry, and pays the price, and leaves to us the glory of it. But I've no desire to see my thatch blazing above my head, my goods and chattels carried off, and my earnings squandered to keep some hungry fighting man in trim."
John the smith now took up the tale.
"As for me, I'm a favourer of the Stuarts. The lad is the true King, say I, by all good right. But I'm heart and soul with you, sexton, in hoping the army of the Scots will keep clear of Mottram town."
And as the talk went on the speakers were divided on questions of politics, some siding with the Prince, others with the House of Hanover; but all alike agreed in hoping that the fugitives would give the Longdendale country a wide berth.
Military necessity, however, knows no law, and the Scotchmen came at last--big burly Highland men. They wore kilts, and carried claymores--for the most part they were bearded, unkempt creatures, men who followed their leaders with the blind faith of children. As soon as definite news of the retreat of the rebel army in the direction of the town became known, the householders of Mottram became greatly alarmed, and everybody grew busy in hiding his or her valuables, and in driving the cattle to places of safety. The farmers scattered about their fields, and horses, cows, sheep, and swine, were hurried into the hills, and there secreted as comfortably and well as possible. Even the poultry were collected, and hidden away, so that they should not become a prey to the hungry Scots. It is said that the sexton had a busy time among the graves, burying such pieces of plate as were owned in the neighbourhood; and in many other spots throughout the district the savings of the householders were committed to the ground.
Contrary to expectation, however, the Mottramites found the Highlanders a quiet, harmless lot of mortals, who did not seem desirous of reckless plunder. When they arrived they showed no disposition to take more than was absolutely necessary to provide for their needs, nor did they turn the people out of doors, and take forcible possession of the houses. During their short halt at Mottram, they roughed it with the best, killing cattle for food, and then (through lack of proper utensils) boiling the meat in hides skewered up at the corners.
The kilts of the Highlanders were what interested the people most of all, and the children would often flit about, in and out, near the legs of the soldiers, looking in awe at the strange petticoats for men, and the knees all bare and bony. Sometimes the men would take the children on their knees, and tell them stories of war and panic, of the charging of horse and foot, and of the glorious deeds of the great and brave. At which the children were greatly pleased, and could have listened all day long.
The soldiers did not camp together, but were divided into companies; one portion stayed in Mottram, but the bulk of them encamped near Hollingworth Hall. Some of the inhabitants took pity on the men, and treated them with great kindness, which appears to have been much appreciated by the rebels. On departing, one of the soldiers left behind as a mark of his gratitude a tinder-box--the most valuable possession he had--and this box was long preserved at Hollingworth Hall.
A noticeable feature about the coming of the Highland men was the excitement and pleasure it occasioned among the female portion of the inhabitants of Longdendale. The lasses in no way showed those signs of distress and doubt which were so evident in their elders. On the contrary, they dressed themselves in their best, became gay with ribbons, and by every art known to woman sought to enhance their many charms. Even in those days a soldier's coat was a magnet of attraction to a maid.
Among the rest was the pretty maid who had spoken to the sexton in the "Black Bull." She was a fair lass, of good figure, and winsome ways, and she was greatly admired by all the lads of Mottram town. One of these was one whom we will call Robin Shaw, on whom she seemed to look with favour; and already that handsome yeoman had come to consider her as especially his property. A sad surprise was in store for poor Robin when the Scotchmen came marching through the town.
Robin, young though he was, had strong views upon the situation. He was a staunch "King's man," and it was with no good grace that he beheld his lady love sporting the rebel colours as the Highlanders marched by. His cup of bitterness, however, ran over when, on the next night, he came across the faithless damsel strolling down a lane, where he himself had often made love to her, in company with a handsome youth who followed the fortunes of Prince Charlie.
It was an angry scene which followed.
Good Robin lost his temper, and in the most approved Longdendale fashion, then and there gave forth his opinion of the heartless conduct of his lady love, and the unjustifiable meddlesomeness of the soldier. The two would have come to blows there and then (for the Scot was quite as eager for the fray as his enraged antagonist) had it not been for the presence of the maid, who placed herself between them, and firmly decided against hostilities. As it was, she commenced an onslaught with her tongue, and the unlucky Robin, on whose head she poured forth her wrath, at last beat an ignominious retreat.
"I'll be even with you yet, you bare-legged rebel," he cried to the Highlander as he went.
And the soldier with a light laugh replied, "At your service, my friend, whenever you are ready."
But the fates were against their meeting for the present, for, eager to get back beyond the border before the English army, which was massing, should lay them by the heels, the Scots left Longdendale, and passed hurriedly northwards.
The day after they left, a fine figure of a man, equipped and ready for war, strode into the bar of the "Black Bull" at Mottram. It was Robin Shaw, and he sought the maid.
"Well, my lass," said he, "I'm off. I've joined the army for the north, and now I'll be on the track of the rebels. If I meet your Highland lover, there'll be blows, and the end will be that you'll have no difficulty to make a choice between us. If I live, I'll come back to claim you. One kiss now, and then good-bye."
Without waiting to see if the girl would give consent, he drew her to him in a grasp that would admit of no resistance, and kissed her. Then without another word he left the inn, and went swinging on his way.