CHAPTER XII.

"Of horrid stabs in groves forlorn, And murders done in caves."--_Hood._

From the time he heard the first shot up to the moment he saw his son pierced by the brigand's weapon, Mr. Lennox had sat as if he was an effigy and not a man, the father of him who had nobly died for him, and the senseless girl who had sunk against him in a swoon. Whether it was abject fear, or whether he was stunned by the horrid murder of his son and the fainting state of Caroline, or whether both preyed on the old man's mind we know not, but certain it is he sat as if powerless, insensible, crushed.

"To work, comrades," cried the captain of the band; "you, my Pedro, have ably spun yon fiery coxcomb, but more remains to be done. Pedro, lay a hand on the jewels, you know where they lie. I myself will see what the old dotard is about."

Whilst Pedro hastened to the trunk where the jewels were hidden, Luigi dismounted; followed by Adrian and several others, he approached the carriage-door. Roused for an instant from his fearful lethargy, Mr. Lennox aimed the pistol he held in his hand at the first intruder's head, and fired, narrowly missing Luigi, who little expected such a welcome. As it was, the smoke so clouded him, suffocating him with its sulphurous vapour, that for an instant he was as it were knocked back.

"The old devil! who would have thought of that? Iddio! I had a narrow escape: the rascal! he shall suffer for it!" exclaimed the irate chieftain, as he rushed forward at the old gentleman, who had after this sudden outburst again relapsed into dastardly inaction. "You old viper! I've got you now, and by Heaven I'll teach you to fire at me that way! here, Adrian, help us to drag the venomous old toad from his hole."

Without waiting for the assistance he asked, Luigi, seizing the old man by the shoulder, dragged him forth notwithstanding his cries for mercy.

"Pity my grey hairs! pity a father you have left sonless! spare me, oh! gentlemen, for God's sake! mercy! misericordia! for the sake of God--for the Virgin!"

"Cease whining in your villainous Italian, and ask for mercy in good English, you drivelling old poltroon," cried Luigi, in that tongue, for he had hitherto spoken in Italian.

He still held his prostrate foe by the arm with an iron grip, menacing death with his naked dagger. Had it not been for the dire reality and fatal signs of murder around, there was something almost ludicrous in the scene. Lying on his back, with his grey hair tangled and torn by his rough usage, his hands clasped together in beseeching agony, tears of terror streaming down his face, his countenance betraying awful fright, Mr. Lennox presented a remarkable contrast to the stern brigand, who, kneeling with one knee on his fallen captive, played with a shining dagger in one hand, whilst with the other he held his prisoner firm. The robber's countenance showed mingled contempt for his antagonist, if a resistless prisoner may so be called, and joy at having thus a foe in his power. But the scene was too terribly bloody for a smile; the father's foot rested against the body of his dead son, a little further off lay the corpse of the postilion with his limbs drawn together in the agony of his dying struggle, whilst fierce men on all sides cursed and swore as they dragged forth the baggage from the carriage, rudely breaking the lids, and scattering the articles on the road in their search for gold or precious things. Some of the band stood mute admirers of the scene of carnage and rapine, others were passionless lookers on, whilst one appeared to regard with horror the whole outrage. This solitary instance amongst a band infamous for its butcheries was Adrian Vardarelli. Leaning against his horse from which he had dismounted, he regarded the various incidents with a look approaching to disgust,--once when he saw the face of Mr. Lennox as he was torn from his carriage, this look changed to one of intense surprise; but again he reposed into his former state of indolent disapproval. When Mr. Lennox heard his native tongue spoken where he least expected it, and by one he least imagined to know it, a sudden feeling of joy thrilled through him.

An Englishman, then, the captain of the band was, he knew it by his accent; he knew that some of the fiercest brigands had been his countrymen, but he felt a conviction, bad as he was, brutal as was his conduct, there was yet an appeal to his mercy as a fellow countryman, and he would try if there was not in his black heart a chord that responded.

"Capitano," he cried, "I am an Englishman, so are you. Oh! for the sake of our mutual land--for the love of God and man--for the sake of England, your native home,--spare me, spare my daughter; take my money, take all, but save my life."

"Look at me, you cowardly old rascal, look at me; do you not know me? then ask yourself if you have cause to expect mercy; no, by G-- I told you a reckoning time would come, it has come, and d--n me if I let it slip."

It is not in the power of language to tell the surprise of Mr. Lennox, as he gazed on the speaker, and in Luigi Vardarelli, the terror of the Capitanata, the scourge of the Abruzzi and all the south of Italy, beheld his old acquaintance Captain John de Vere.

"Ha! Lennox, old boy," continued the robber, "you little thought Luigi Vardarelli was your old friend the Captain. Egad I little thought, when Pedro brought me the news to-day an old gentleman, his son and daughter, with rich jewels, passed this way, that it was my old friend Lennox. I told you a dozen years ago you might live to repent your words to me that night; you have lived to do so, and by the Almighty you shall repent it,--your life alone shall satisfy me."

Poor Mr. Lennox, who had been comforting himself with the hopes that old friendship would at least save his life, saw all his visions vanish like smoke with the last dreadful words; yet he determined he would not lose his life for want of asking. During their converse the Captain had let his unfortunate prisoner loose from the iron grip with which he had till then detained him, and now stood calmly scrutinizing his suppliant.

"Oh, Captain de Vere, noble Captain de Vere, for the sake of old friendship, spare me, for the sake of the Earl, your departed sister, have pity on me, an aged, helpless man. Why should you take my life? I have done you no harm; leave me to finish my life in peace; spare me to my daughter. Oh! you have had your revenge in slaying my son, the hope of my age. Oh! stay your sword."

"Name not your son in the same breath with your abject supplications; he died a man, he had some pluck in him, but sirrah! you are a disgrace to your name--a disgrace to Britain, and all your entreaties will not move me. I will hang you on the next tree and rid the world of such a poltroon."

"Then if you have no mercy in your black heart--if you have no natural pity in your reptile blood--hear me as an Englishman. I tell you a heavy retribution will fall on you if you shed my blood. I am a Briton, and His Majesty's liege subject. I am his special servant; dread him, bold robber, he will send his armies and root such accursed bloodthirsty wolves from this country."

"Ha, you speak very fine, my brave fellow, but I scorn your threats as much as your entreaties. I have long renounced my allegiance to your besotted king; here his armies and navies are alike useless: besides, my bravo, who will tell his most sacred Majesty that his servant hangs like a felon on a nut-tree? But egad, we waste time arguing with a cowardly old miscreant like this. Pedro, swing him up on yon tree."

"You dare not--oh heavens! you dare not--the Earl--the King--oh, no, no," embracing the very hessians of the bandit. "Captain de Vere, for auld lang syne, pardon me, I know not what I say, hang me not like a dog."

"As you are one, that were no great fault; but perhaps you wish a little torture first. Pedro, Antonio, twist the rope round his forehead first, till his eyes start a little."

"Good God! you surely joke, you would not, you could not do so," exclaimed the unfortunate man, as he saw these desperados approach to fulfil their master's order.

"I joke not," replied the Captain; "you think I am a woman, and turn pale at the sight of blood. I have not been pirate and bandit a dozen years for nothing, by G--. I have not roamed torrid and temperate zone, or pitched shiploads of niggers into the sea to grow sick at a little bloodshed, or merciful because an old coward asks for mercy. I have seen a dozen better men than thee, old dotard, tortured and beheaded, and think you I joke; ye gods, you will find me another man than you think. Did you hear me, sirrahs? do my bidding, or Iddio! I'll serve you the same. And hark you, if he chatters for mercy any more, tear his vile tongue out by the roots."

These awful commands would doubtless have been carried out to the letter had not Adrian, or, as our readers must have already guessed, Edward L'Estrange, then stepped forward, and pleaded for an old friend.

"Nay, Luigi, hurt not the poor old imbecile, he is not worth your interest. Hands off, villains!" (to the two ruffians who were about to begin their work of butchery). "Heed them not, old man, I will not let them harm you, for the sake of old and better days."

"God bless you, Edward L'Estrange, you had ever a feeling heart! God bless you for befriending an old, and friendless man, who has fallen among thieves! God be merciful to you for saving a poor fellow creature's life!" exclaimed the poor man when his tormentors departed.

The Captain bit his lips. "You were ever a soft-hearted fool, and would be better occupied in wooing your lady-love, or in writing sonnets to another's bride, than aiding in any manly exploit; but, hark you, I will spare only his tortures--not his life. He fired at me, and by heaven he dies for it! I am captain here, no one shall countermand my orders."

"Edward L'Estrange, for the love of God, say something for me."

"I can do no more; he is captain. God knows if I was, your blood should not stain my hand; be thankful I have saved you from torture."

Poor Lennox thought he had small cause for thankfulness.

"Are we to loiter here all day? By heavens, my comrades! heard you ever such a noise about an old fool's life before? Egad, one would think there were two captains here. Every command is reversed! Which will you have as a leader--Adrian or me? Which will do most for you--he or I? Whom will you obey? By G--, it's time there was some understanding."

"You, you, you shall be our chief, _al diavolo_ with Adrian, the faint-hearted fool!" exclaimed Pedro; all the rest assented.

"Then obey me only," said the Captain; "we shall have the sbirri here in half an hour more, unless we come to quarters. Here, hang, shoot, strangle, or behead yon rascally dotard--which will you have, Lennox? there's store of deaths, choose away and be sharp! You are dumb, are you? Then I'll choose for you. Antonio cut his head off, and stick it on a pole; he ever soared high, he shall be higher after death than before it. Toss that carrion into the ravine," pointing to the postilion, "and whip off that lad's head, too, and stick it on a pole opposite his father's; and now for the girl."

We turn our backs on the scene that followed, and shut our ears to the heart-rending cries for mercy. Enough to say in less time than we have taken to write this, the heads of the unhappy father and son were cut off, and whilst the bleeding trunks were left as they lay, the ghastly heads were stuck on two poles, and elevated on either side of the road.

Turning a deaf ear and merciless eye to the butchery, the Captain approached the carriage, on the floor of which the hapless Caroline lay in a dead faint.

"Ha! not ill-looking by any means. Come, my girl, cheer up," applying some brandy to her nose, whilst another robber flung some water on the senseless girl's face. These restoratives had the desired effect, and the poor girl opened her eyes; at the same time crying out, "My poor father, is he alive? Oh! spare him, noble sirs!"

"He is well--that is the old man--and will remain so if his daughter will be Luigi's bride," said the hard-hearted Captain.

"Oh, God be thanked--but my brother?"

"Heed not him, come away; here Pedro, Adrian, you were ever a lady's man, give this girl a swing on my horse, and take her down to the cave; she will do to drive away my hours of ennui."

L'Estrange stooped down and lifted her in his arms: taking her out of the carriage, he let her slowly fall down from his arms till her feet touched the ground; he turned her head away from the poles with their ghastly heads. His face betrayed convulsive emotions, as if he was planning something within.

"Why burden yourself with her, Capitano?" said Pedro, "there are fairer girls than she in Avellino; she will be a burden, and ever moping and crying, like your last Inglese girl."

"You speak sooth, d--n me if you don't. What do I want with the pigeon? Wring her neck, and let's be off with our booty."

"Luigi," said L'Estrange, for by that name he had long learned to address him, "you have had your way with the old man--you have dipped your hands already in innocent blood--leave this girl to me, let her be my prize."

As he spoke these words poor Caroline had detected the cruel reality, and, giving a wild scream as she glanced towards the fatal poles and their dreadful burdens, again swooned and sunk down on the ground at her protector's feet.

"You chicken-hearted fool, you were ever a blockhead when women fell in your way, but this girl is my prize, and I'll do what I please with her. See, the silly dove has gone and swooned again. Egad, you make a nice pair. Come, Adrian, away with such folly; run your dagger through her heart, and let's away, or we shall bring the whole country buzzing about our ears."

"Protect me, sir; oh, protect me," cried Caroline, awakening again from her swoon, and as if by instinct seeing in him a deliverer.

"I will--fear not, maiden."

"Can you?" roared the Captain. "Are you able? Ye powers! he dares me, his captain!"

"You are not my captain, I renounce my allegiance. I have long been sickened by your brutalities. I wanted but an excuse to shake off an accursed yoke. I am free; henceforth I forsake your band. I will protect this girl. Thank God, black as my heart is--dark as my crimes have been--I have something human left still; let me see who will touch her!"

Whilst he spoke these words a dark light beamed on his face, his eyes seemed to flash fire; beneath him knelt the poor girl, who had flown to him for protection, around him scowled the brigands, struck dumb at this sudden rebellion.

The Captain's very aspect darkened, as with a stern voice he again asked, "Comrades, who is to be captain?--whose is the girl?"

"Thou art--she is yours," exclaimed twenty voices.

"Then renounce your booty, give up your prize, obey your chief! miscreant, fool, rebel, accursed and d----d, yield thee!" he shouted rather than spoke these words, and, as he spoke, he advanced to where L'Estrange stood.

Never did fierce tiger guard its prey as L'Estrange did his suppliant; his whole frame trembled with passion, his mouth quivered, his eyes rolled fire.

"Back on your life; tempt me not," he cried, in a voice shuddering from wrath; "she is mine, I will guard her to death--I will save her, I will; fear not, maiden."

As the dove trembles when the hawk approaches--as the chicken hides beneath its mother's wing when the kite poises above--so trembled Caroline, so did she crouch beneath her protector, as the fierce Captain stepped forward.

The rest of the brigands stood still in a circle round, they were men, and they loved to see manly resistance; it would be hard to tell which of the two had most well-wishers. They saw L'Estrange was no coward, no faint heart, although merciful. They knew the Captain's character, and in silence watched. There was not one there who would give unwarrantable assistance to either,--the two must fight it out--they only looked on.

"Save _yourself_, Adrian, save yourself, L'Estrange; see yonder come the troops," pointing down the vale, up which came a large detachment of mounted sbirri; "yet," laying his hand on Caroline's shoulder, whilst she shrunk from his touch, "never shall it be said mortal man bearded me living. I am captain, I will have my lawful captive, and," lifting his bright dagger, "now yield thee, give her up. I will be chief--nothing but death shall make me yield my authority."

"Then die!" cried L'Estrange, striking a back-blow at his enemy with his stiletto. It sunk beneath the blade of the Captain's right shoulder.

"Oh, God! you have killed me, villain! oh, God! I am done for!" ejaculated the unhappy man, as he sunk backwards. At the same instant a dozen gunshots rent the air, and the robbers were surrounded on every side by enemies.

"What have I done?" exclaimed L'Estrange, gazing at the ghastly face of the Captain. "I have killed him! God forgive me!"

Then, throwing Caroline across the saddle-bow of his horse which stood beside him, he himself mounted in an instant, and, casting a hurried glance at the new foe and his late comrades, struck his spurs into his courser's flanks, and dashed through the sbirri, managing his horse with his knees; holding Caroline with one hand, whilst with the other he whirled his sabre over his head, cutting his way right and left through the sbirri. A dozen pistol-balls followed his flight from both friends--at least former ones,--and enemies; but he seemed charmed,--no bullet struck him, and he was soon beyond range both of ball and vision.

The fight and its awful end had so engaged the bandits, they did not mark the new enemy approach, and gradually surround them: when, however, the first shot was fired, and one of their band fell mortally wounded, they were soon up and doing.

The two conflicts went on together for a few moments; then the Captain fell, and the sbirri, seeing the champion sink, rushed again on their foes with renewed energy.

The robbers were not men to be taken by surprise, as the sbirri found to their cost. They were all mounted in an instant; and the most of them, well acquainted with the ground, which their antagonists were not, disappeared in the woods, and from behind the trees kept up a telling fire. Man after man dropped before the unseen shots, and the few remaining soon began to lose spirit. When their Captain fell, and Adrian galloped off with his prize, a yell of vengeance arose from the brigands; and one of joy from the sbirri. The former--at least half a dozen who still remained--rushed to protect him from the latter, who strove to gain possession of the prize. A terrible hand-to-hand conflict was fought over the wounded man, who laughed as he saw them so grimly engage; for though mortally, he was only wounded as yet, and might live many hours.

Several bullets were, as we have already said, fired after the retreating L'Estrange. The battle still went on over the Captain; the sbirri wavered,--they yielded, and then fled. But they did not escape; every man was shot or cut down, and not even one escaped alive to tell the tale! The successful belligerents then took up their wounded captain, as well as the plunder, and diving into the woods, sought their cave, leaving five dead, and carrying home four more wounded besides their chief Luigi.

About half an hour after the conflict had ceased, and the brigands were gone, a solitary figure emerged from the woods, crossed himself when he saw the numerous corpses, and the poles with their bleeding trophies, and whistled, faintly at first, as if afraid of the reappearance of the enemy, then louder. His whistle was answered by plaintive neighs, and in less than ten minutes two of the four horses trotted up to the postilion; by-and-by a third also appeared; after some time he succeeded in harnessing his horses to the despoiled carriage, and set off alone for Foggia.

He had not proceeded far, however, ere the temporary fastenings he had made gave way, and the carriage once more came to a stand-still. The postilion alighted, and then, giving the other horses their freedom, mounted one, on which he galloped to the Earl's villa, bearing with him a scarf dyed with blood which had belonged to Caroline, as a dread token of the truth of his tale.