Chapter 48

These were the haunts, too, of poachers and deer-stalkers, who made use of such hiding-places to screen their nocturnal depredations. He might be gotten unknowingly into one of their retreats, and he knew the character of such men too well to venture farther into their privy places without leave. But it was strange this ugly and insane thing should be kept here. Its outlandish accent, too, as far as Gregory could distinguish, was still more unaccountable; and that his young mistress should hold any intercourse with such a misshapen mockery of the human form was a mystery only to be resolved by a woman! After all, his first conjecture might be true, and this delicate sprite the ministering demon to some magician who brooded over the treasure.

He grew more timorous in the dark. His own breathing startled him. He revolved a thousand plans of escape; but how was it possible to climb to the pit-mouth without help, and in total darkness? The door, too, would probably defy his attempts to remove it. Suspense was not to be endured. He would have been glad to see the ugly dwarf again, rather than remain in his present evil case.

He now tried to grope out his way, from that sort of undefinable feeling which leads a person to identify change of place with improvement in condition.

Ere he had gone many yards from the spot, however, he saw a light, and presently the flaming torch was visible, with the ugly form he desired.

"Sir messenger, allez. Make scrape and go backward. Bah! What for make lady chuse ugly lout as thee for page?--not know, not inquire. Up, this way; now mind the steps. Bah, not that, fool!"

With some difficulty Gregory was initiated into the mysteries of the ascent. The torch was brandished high above his head, and with fear and trepidation he prepared to obey.

"But, master sooty-paws, my mistress will be a-wanting of some token; some reply. Hast thou no memory of her sweet favours?"

"Begone, slave-dog, begone! Say we be snug as the fox that will keep in the hole when dogs go hunt. We not go up again till lady sends leave. Go to!"

Gregory mounted with great difficulty. When he approached the mouth, looking upward for some mode of exit, he saw the trap-door slowly open, and he leapt forth into the free air; the cool atmosphere and the quiet moonlight again upon his path. He soon cleared the bushes, and once more was on his way to the house. Elizabeth met him at the gate.

"What ho, sirrah!" said she, "hast thou been loitering with my message? I left my chamber to look out for thee. What answer? Quick."

"Why, forsooth, 'tis not easy to say, methinks, for such jabber is hard to interpret. By my lady's leave, I think"--

Here he paused; but Elizabeth was impatient for the expected reply. "Softly, softly, mistress. I but thought your worship were ill bestowed on yonder ugly image."

"Tut, I'm not i' the humour for thine. What message, simpleton?"

"None, good mistress; but that they be snug until further orders."

"'Tis well; to rest; but hark thee, knave, be honest and discreet; thou shall win both gold and great honours thereby."

"What! shall I ha' my share o' the treasure?" inquired Gregory, his eyes glistening in the broad moonlight.

"What treasure, thou greedy gled?"

"Why they say 'tis a mine royal, and"--

"How! knowest thou our secret?"

"Ay, a body may quess. I've not found the road to the silver mine for nought. If I get my grip on't, the king may whistle for his share belike."

"The king! what knowest thou of the king?" said the maiden sharply.

"Eh! lady, I know not on him forsooth. Marry it would be hard to say who that be now-a-days; for the clerk towed me"--

"Peace! whom sawest thou?"

"Why the ugliest brute, saving your presence, lady, that my two een ever lippened on."

"None else?"

"No, no; I warrant ye, the miners wouldna care to let me get a glint o' the gowd. I only had a look at the hobgoblin, who they have set, I guess, to watch the treasure."

"Oh! I see,--ay, truly," said the maiden thoughtfully; "the mine is guarded, therefore be wary, and reveal not the secret, lest he crush thee. Remember," said she at parting, "remember the demon of the cave. One word, and he will grind thy bones to grist."

Gregory did remember the power of this mysterious being, who, he began to fancy, partook more of the supernatural than he had formerly imagined.

Wearied with watching, he slept soundly, but his dreams were of wizards and enchanters; heaps of gold and fairy palaces, wherein he roved through glittering halls of illimitable extent, until morning dissipated the illusion.

Some weeks passed on, during which, at times, Gregory was employed by his mistress, doubtless to propitiate this greedy monster, in conveying food secretly to the mouth of the chasm. He did not usually wait for his appearance, but ran off with all convenient speed when his errand was accomplished. Still his hankering for the treasure seemed to increase with every visit. He oft invented some plan for outwitting the demon, thereby securing to himself the product of the mine. Some of these devices would doubtless have been accomplished had not fear prevented the attempt. He had no wish to encounter again the hostility of that fearful thing in its unhallowed abode.

His mistress, however, would, at some period or another, no doubt, be in possession of all the wealth in the cave, and he should then expect a handsome share. He had heard, in old legends, marvellous accounts of ladies marrying with these accursed dwarfs for gold, and if he waited patiently he might perchance have the best of the spoil.

He brooded on this imagination so long that he became fully convinced of its truth; but still the golden egg was long in hatching.

One night he thought he would watch a while. He had just left a large barley-cake and some cheese, a bowl of furmety, and a dish of fruit.

"This monster," thought he, "devours more victuals than the worth of his ugly carcase."

He hid himself behind a tree, when presently he heard a rustling behind him. Ere he could retreat he was seized with a rude grasp, and the gruff accents of his master were heard angrily exclaiming--

"How now, sir knave?--What mischief art thou plotting this blessed night? Answer me. No equivocation. If thou dost serve me with a lie in thy mouth I'll have thee whipt until thou shall wish the life were out o' thee."

Gregory fell on his knees and swore roundly that he would tell the truth.

"Quick, hound; I have caught thee lurching here at last. I long thought thou hadst some knavery agoing. What meanest thou?"

Gregory pointed towards the provision which was lying hard by.

"Eh, sirrah! what have we hear?" said his master, curiously examining the dainties. "Why, thou cormorant, thou greedy kite, is't not enough to consume victuals and provender under my own roof, but thou must guttle 'em here too? I warrant there be other company to the work, other grinders at the mill. Now, horrible villain, thou dost smell fearfully o' the stocks!"

"O master, forgive me!--It was mistress that sent me with the stuff, as I hope the Virgin and St Gregory may be my intercessors."

"Thy mistress!--and for whom?"

"Why, there's a hole close by, as I've good cause to remember."

"Well, sirrah, and what then?"

"As ugly a devilkin lives there as ever put paw and breech upon hidden treasure. 'Tis the mine, master, that I mean."

"The mine! What knowest thou of the mine?"

"I've been there, and"--

Here he related his former adventure; at the hearing of which Oliver Tempest fell into a marvellous study.

"Hark thee," said he, after a long silence; "I pardon thee on one condition, which is, that thou take another message."

Here the terrified Gregory broke forth into unequivocal exclamations of agony and alarm.

"Peace," said his master, "and listen; thou must carry it as from my daughter. I suspect there's treason lurks i' that hole."

"Ay, doubtless," said Gregory: "for the neibours say 'tis treason to hide a mine royal."

"A mine royal! Ay, knave, I do suspect it to be so. By my troth, I 'll ferret out the foulmarts either by force or guile. And yet force would avail little. If they have the clue we might attempt to follow them in vain through its labyrinths, they would inevitably escape, and I should lose the reward. Hark thee. Stay here and I'll fetch the writing for the message. Stir not for thy life. Shouldst thou betray me I'll have thy crooked bones ground in a mill to thicken pigs' gruel."

Fearful was the dilemma; but Gregory durst not budge.

The night grew dark and stormy, the wind rose, loud gusts shaking down the dying leaves, and howling through the wide extent of the forest. The moan of the river came on like the agony of some tortured spirit. The sound seemed to creep closer to his ear; and Gregory thought some evil thing was haunting him for intruding into these unhallowed mysteries.

He was horribly alarmed at the idea of another visit to the cave, but he durst not disobey. He now heard a rustling in the bushes by the cavern's mouth. He saw, or fancied he saw, something rise therefrom and suddenly disappear. It was the demon, doubtless, retiring with his prey. He scarcely dared to breathe lest the hobgoblin should observe and seize him likewise. But his presence was unnoticed. He, however, thought that the blast grew louder, and a moan more melancholy and appalling arose from the river. Again Oliver Tempest was at his side.

"Take this, and do thy bidding." He thrust the billet into his hand, which the unfortunate recipient might not refuse.

Trembling in every limb, he approached the place of concealment; but he was too wary now to let go his hold of the fallen trunk.

He whistled thrice, and the ground again seemed to give way. A light glared from beneath, and he cautiously descended the pit.

The grim porter was waiting for him below. He fell as though rushing into the very jaws of the monster, who was but whetting his tusks ere he should devour him.

"Here again!" croaked the ugly dwarf; "what brings thy long legs back from Christendom?"

"I know not, master; but if you are i' the humour to read, I've a scrap in my pouch at your high mightiness' service."

Gregory paid more deference to him now than aforetime, having conceived a most profound respect for his attributes, both physical and mental, since his former visit.

"He is himself either some wondrous enchanter," thought he, "or, at any rate, minister or familiar to some mighty wizard, who hath his dwelling-place in this subterraneous abode."

"I have a message here to my lord," said he aloud, handing him the billet at arm's length, with a mighty show of deference and respect. The uncourteous dwarf took the writing, and left Gregory in darkness again to await his return. He shook at every joint, while the minutes seemed an age. Again the light flickered on the damp walls, and the mysterious being approached. He addressed the envoy with his usual grin of contempt.

"Tell the lady, my master be glad. He will leap from his prison by to-morrow, as she say, and appear at dinner."

"The dickons he will," said Gregory, as he clambered up the ascent, not without imminent jeopardy, so anxious was he to escape.

"This is a fearful message to master," thought he, as he leapt out joyfully into the buoyant air: "but at any rate I'll now be quit o' the job." And the messenger gave his report, for Oliver Tempest was impatiently awaiting his return.

"'Tis well," said he; "and now, hark thee, should one syllable of this night's business bubble through thy lips, thou hadst better have stayed in the paws of the hobgoblin. Away!"

Gregory needed no second invitation, but scampered home with great despatch, leaving his master to grope out the way as he thought proper.

There was more bustle and preparation for dinner than usual on the morrow. Oliver Tempest had sent messengers to Bashall and Waddow; but the guests had not made their appearance. About noon the hall-table was furnished with a few whittles and well-scoured trenchers. Bright pewter cups and ale-flagons were set in rows on a side-table, and on the kitchen hearth lay a savoury chine of pork and pease-pudding. In the great boiling pot, hung on a crook over the fire, bubbled a score of hard dumplings, and in the broth reposed a huge piece of beef--these dainties being usually served in the following order--broth, dumpling, beef, according to the old distich--

"No broth, no ba'; No ba', no meat at a'."

Dame Joan of Waddington was the presiding genius of the feast, the conduit-pipe through which flowed the full stream of daily bounty, dispensing every blessing, even the most minute. In that golden age of domestic discipline it was not beneath the dignity of a careful housewife to attend and take the lead in all culinary arrangements.

The master strode to and fro in the hall, and Elizabeth was humming at her wheel. He looked anxious and ill at ease, often casting a furtive glance towards the entrance, and occasionally a side-look at his daughter. She sometimes watched her father's eye, as though she had caught his restless apprehensions, and would have inquired the cause of his uneasiness. Suddenly a loud bay from a favourite hound that was dozing on the hearth announced the approach of a stranger. Oliver advanced with a quick step into the courtyard, and soon re-entered leading in a middle-sized, middle-aged personage, slightly formed, whose pale and saintly features looked haggard and apprehensive, while his eye wavered to and fro, less perhaps with curiosity than suspicion.

He was wrapped in a grey cloak; and a leathern jerkin, barely meeting in front, displayed a considerable breadth of under garment in the space between hose and doublet. These were fastened together with tags or points, superseding the use of wooden skewers, with which latter mode of suspension not a few of our country yeomen were in those days supplied. His legs were protected by boots of fine brown Spanish leather, lined with deer-skin, tanned with the fur on, and buttoned from the ankle to the knee. He had gloves of the same material, reaching to the elbow when drawn up, but now turned down with the fur outwards. The hands and feet were remarkably small, but well shapen. A low grey cap of coarse woollen completed the costume of this singular visitor. There was, at times, in the expression of his eye, an indescribable mixture of imbecility and enthusiasm, as though the spirit of some Eastern fakir had reanimated a living body. A gleam of almost supernatural intelligence was mingled with an expression of fatuity, that in less enlightened ages would have invested him with the dangerous reputation of priest or prophet in the eyes of the multitude.

Oliver Tempest led the way with great care and formality. To a keen-eyed observer, though, his courtesy would have appeared over acted and fulsome; but the object of his assiduities seemed to pay him little attention, further than by a vacant smile that struggled around the corners of his melancholy and placid mouth.

Dame Joan Tempest now came forth, bending thrice in a deep and formal acknowledgment. The stranger stayed her speech with a look of great benignity.

"I know thy words are what our kindness would interpret, and I thank thee. Your hospitality shall not lose its savour in my remembrance, when England hath grown weary of her guilt,--when the cry of the widow and the fatherless shall have prevailed. I am hunted like a partridge on the mountains; but, by the help of my God, I shall yet escape from the noisome pit, and from the snares of the fowler."

Yet the look which accompanied this prediction seemed incredulous of its purport. He heaved a deep sigh, and his eyes were suddenly bent on the ground. Being introduced into the hall, the seat of honour was assigned him at the table.

Elizabeth, when she saw him, uttered an ill-suppressed exclamation of surprise, and her pale countenance grew almost ghastly. Her lips were bloodless, quivering with terror and dismay. Agony was depicted on her brow--that agony which leaves the spirit without support to struggle with unknown, undefined, uncomprehended evil. Not a word escaped her; she hurried out of the hall, as she thought, without observation; but this sudden movement did not escape the eye of her father. Triumph sat on his brow; and his cheek seemed flushed with joy at the result of his stratagem.

The servitors appeared; and the smoking victuals were disposed in their due order. The joints were placed at the upper end of the board, while broth and pottage steamed out their savoury fumes from the lower end of the table. At some distance below the master and his dame sat the male domestics, then the females, who occupied the lower places at the feast, except two, who waited on the rest.

The master blessed the meal, the whole company standing. The broth was served round to the lower forms, and the meat and dainties to the higher; but Elizabeth was still absent.

When she left the hall it was for the purpose of speaking to Gregory, whom she found skulking and peeping about the premises.

"Gregory, why art thou absent from thy nooning?" inquired Elizabeth, with a suspicious and scrutinising glance.

"I'm not o'er careful to bide i' the house just now. Is there aught come that--that"--Here he stammered and looked round, confirming the suspicions of the inquirer.

"Gregory, thou art a traitor; but thou shalt not escape thy reward. I'll have thee hung--ay, villain, beyond the reach of aught but crows and kites."

"Whoy, mistress, I'd leifer be hung nor stifled to death wi' brimstone and bad humours."

"None o' thy quiddities, thou maker of long lies and quick legs. Confess, or I'll"--

"Whoy, look ye, mistress, you've been kind, and pulled me out of many an ugly ditch."

"Why dost thou hesitate, knave? I'm glad thy memory is not so treacherous as thy tongue."

"Nay, mistress, I've no notion to sup brose wi' t' old one: those that dinner wi' him he may happen ask to supper; and he'd need have a long whittle that cuts crumbs wi' the de'il."

"Art thou at thy riddles again? Speak in sober similitudes, if thou canst, sirrah."

"Your father sent me on a message to the little devilkin last night. I was loth enough to the job; but he catched me as I went wi' the victuals."

"A message!--and to what purport?"

"Nay, that I know not. The invitation was conveyed in a scrap of writing, and I'm not gifted in clerkship an' such like matters."

A ray of intelligence now burst upon her. She saw the imminent danger which threatened the fugitive, who had been hitherto concealed principally by her contrivances. Gregory watched the rapid and changing hues alternating on her cheek. She saw the full extent of the emergency; and, though her father was the traitor, she hesitated not in that trying moment.

No time was to be lost, and measures were immediately taken to countervail these designs.

"What answer sent he?" she hastily inquired.

"The de'il's buckie said his master would be at the hall by dinner-time; and I'll not be one o' the guests where old Clootie has the pick o' the table."

"Thou witless runnion, haste, or we are lost! It is the king! I would I had trusted thee before with the secret. Mayhap thy wit would have been without obscuration. Supernatural terrors have taken thy reason prisoner. Haste, nor look behind thee until thou art under the eaves of Bashall. This to my cousin, Edmund Talbot; he is honest, or my wishes themselves are turned traitors," said the maiden wistfully. She scrawled but one line, with which Gregory departed on his errand.

Oliver Tempest grew uneasy at his daughter's absence. He inquired the cause, but all were alike ignorant. The king inquired too, with some surprise; and a messenger was despatched with a close whisper in his ear.

The meal was nigh finished, when all eyes were turned towards the entrance. A little blackamoor page came waddling in. He made no sign nor obeisance, but took his station, without speaking, behind his master's chair.

"Why, how now, my trusty squire?" said the disguised monarch; "thou wast not bidden to this feast."

The dwarf cast a scowling glance at the master of the house, and he replied, while a hideous grin dilated his thick stubborn features--

"This be goodly wassail, methinks. I am weary of lurching and torchlight."

"Tempest," said the king, "I would crave grace for this follower of mine. He is somewhat fearsome and forbidding, but of an unwearied fidelity."

"Troth," said Tempest, still wishful to maintain the king's incognito, "the Turks having now taken Byzantium, the great bulwark of Christendom, I did fear me that the first of the tribe from that great army of locusts had descended upon us."

"Fear not," said the unfortunate monarch, with a smile; "this poor innocent will do no ill. His mistress brought him for me a present from her father's court; and, to say the truth, he has been a great solace in my trouble. He hath not forsaken me when they who fattened on my bounty--who dipped their hands with me in the dish--have been the first to betray me. The knave is shrewd and playful, but of an incredible strength, being, as ye may observe, double-jointed. Madoc, let them behold some token of thy power."

The cunning rogue obeyed in a twinkling. He seized the host's chair with one hand, lifting its occupant without difficulty from the ground. With the other he laid hold on him by the throat, and would certainly have strangled him but for the king.

The assault was so sudden and unexpected that the domestics stood still a moment, as though rendered powerless by surprise.

The next instant they all fled pell-mell out of the hall, every one struggling to be foremost, apprehending that the great personification of all evil was there, bodily, behind them, and in the very act of flying off with their master.

In vain Joan shouted after the cowardly villains; her threats but increased their speed.

"Fly, King Henry," cried the dwarf, in a voice that sounded like the roar of some infuriated beast; "the rascal curs are barking; the stag is in the net. This traitor"--Here he became at a loss for words; but his gesticulations were more vehement. "Fly!" at length he shouted, in a louder voice than before; "I've seen sword and armour glittering in the forest."

But the king was irresolute, as much amazed as any of the rest. He saw the imminent danger of his host, whose face was blackening above the grip of this fierce antagonist, and he cried out--

"Leave go, Madoc; let the curs bark, we fear them not in this good house. Let go, I command thee."

With a look of pity and of scorn the savage loosened his hold, saying--

"Thou be'st not king now; but Henry with the beads and breviary; and here come thy tormentors."

A loud whistle rang through the hall, and in burst a band of armed men, led on by Sir Thomas Talbot of Bashall, and his oldest son of the same name, together with Sir James Harrington.

Tempest, recovered from his gripe, made a furious dart at the king; but ere he had accomplished his purpose, Edmund Talbot rushed between, at the peril of his life, opening a way for the terrified monarch through the band that had nearly surrounded him.

The king fled through the passage made by his deliverer; and the dwarf, keeping his enemies at bay, heroically and effectually covered his retreat.

"Edmund Talbot, art thou traitor to thy kin?" said Sir Thomas, from the crowd. "Let me pass; 'tis thy father commands thee. 'Tis not thy king, he is a coward and a usurper."

"I care not," said the retreating and faithful Edmund. "My arm shall not compass with traitors. Cowards attack unarmed men at their meals."