No Quarter!. Reid Mayne

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СКАЧАТЬ brother and sister – both born Foresters. There was nothing in the character of either at all disreputable, though their business was such as usually brings suspicion on those who follow it. Known all over the forest, and for miles around it, as cadgers, they trafficked in every conceivable thing by which an honest penny might be made, though their speciality was the transport of fowls, with other products of the farmyard, to the markets of Ross and Monmouth – generally on freight account – taking back such parcels as they could pick up. Ruardean was their port of departure and return; their home, when they were at home, being a cottage in the outskirts of that elevated village.

      Rarely, if ever, were “Jerky Jack” – the soubriquet his gait had gained for him – and his big sister seen apart; Winny, or Winifred – for such was her baptismal name – being a valuable helpmate to him. Some said she was more – his master.

      That day they had been to Monmouth market, and now, at a late hour of the evening – after sunset – they were climbing Cat’s Hill on their return homeward. As already said, there was then no Kerne bridge, and they had crossed by the ferry at Goodrich; a roundabout way to where they now were, but unavoidable – making good the woman’s estimate of the distance.

      Up the remainder of the pitch, Jerky kept his word, and no more stick was administered to Jinkum. But before reaching the summit the tired animal was treated to a spell of rest, for which it might thank a man there met, or rather one who dropped upon them as from the clouds. For he had come slithering down a steep shelving bank that bordered the road, suddenly presenting himself to their view outside the selvage of bushes.

      Notwithstanding his impromptu appearance, neither showed sign of alarm nor surprise. Evidently they expected him; for but the minute before a sound resembling the call of the green woodpecker – the “heekul,” as known to them – had reached their ears, causing them to turn their eyes toward the direction whence it came. From the wood, where, of course, they could see nothing; but there was a peculiarity in the intonation of the sound, telling them it proceeded not from the throat of a bird, but was in some way made by a man. That the woman knew how, and who the man, she gave evidence by saying, “That be Rob!” as she spoke a pleased expression coming over her countenance.

      Whether Rob or no, he who so mysteriously and fantastically presented himself to their notice was a man of aspect remarkable as either of them. In size a Colossus; dark-complexioned like themselves, with full beard, and thick shock of brown-black hair standing out around his neck in curls and tangles. His coat of bottle-green cloth – amply skirted – and red plush waistcoat, showed creased and frowsy, as if he had passed the previous night, and many preceding it, in a shed or under a tree. For all, there was something majestic in his mien, just as with the woman – a savage grandeur independent of garb, which could assert itself under a drapery of rags.

      As the three came together, he was the first to speak, more particularly addressing himself to Jerky. For the sister had a little side business to transact, plunging her hand into one of the panniers, and bringing forth a basket, out of which the neck of a bottle protruded.

      “Well, Jack! What’s the news down Monnerth way?” was the commencement of the colloquy.

      “Lots, Rob; ’nough if they were wrote out on paper to fill them panners, an’ load the donkey down.”

      Jinkum’s owner was of a humorous turn, and dealt in figures of speech, often odd and varied as his bills of lading.

      “Tell us some o’ ’em,” requested Rob, placing himself in an attitude to listen.

      “Well,” proceeded the cadger, “it be most all ’bout politicks there now, wi’ rumours o’ war, they say be a brewin’. The market war full o’ them rough ’uns from Raglan side, Lord Worster’s people, bullyin’ everybody an’ threetenin’ all as wudn’t cry out for the King.”

      “Ay;” here interposed the big sister, with a sneer, “an’ you cried it, Jack – shouted till I was afeerd you’d split yer windpipe. That ye did!”

      “And if I did,” rejoined Jack, excusing himself, “how war I to help it? If I hadn’t they’d a throttled me; may-be pulled off my wooden leg, and smashed my skull wi’t. An’ ye know that, Winny. A man who’d a said word there favour o’ the Parlyment wud a stud good chance o’ gettin’ tore limb fro’ limb. Tho’ I han’t two for ’em to tear sunderwise, I wasn’t the fool to go buttin my head ’gainst a wall when no good could come o’t. If I did cry ‘Long live the King!’ I thinked the contrary, as Rob knows I do.”

      “That do I, Jack, right well. A true free-born Forester, as myself, I know you ha’ no leanin’ like as them o’ Monnerth and Lydney; Royalists an’ Papists, who want to make slaves o’ us, both body and soul, an’ keep us toilin’ for them an’ their fine-dressed favourites – devil burn ’em!”

      Having thus delivered himself, the free-born Forester dropped conversation with Jerky, confining it to the sister. For which Jack gave them an opportunity, shrewdly guessing it was desired. Once more saluting Jinkum with a “yee-up!” he started the animal off again up the hill, himself stumping briskly after.

      Chapter Twelve

      A Combat in a Quarry

      The man and woman left behind, as they stood vis-à-vis, presented a striking appearance. Such a pair in juxtaposition were a sight not often given to the eye. He some inches the taller – though well matched as regarded the distinction of the sexes; but both of towering stature, with air so commanding that one, who could have seen them there and then, would not have given a thought to the coarseness of their apparel, or, if so, instantly forgetting it. Looking at their faces, in their eyes as they met in mutual gaze, he would have noticed something of a nature to interest more than any quality or fashion of dress – the light of love. For they loved one another warmly, and, perhaps, as purely and tenderly, as if their hearts had been beating under robes of silk.

      No words of love passed between them now. If they intended speaking such, they held them in reserve till matters more pressing should be disposed of.

      Upon these the man entered at once, asking, —

      “Heerd you anythin’ ’bout me, Win?”

      “Yes, Rob.”

      “What?”

      “They have been wonderin’ how ye managed to get out o’t gaol, an’ blame Will Morgan for lendin’ ye a hand. Day afore yesterday a party came over from Lydney wi’ that young officer as be wi’ Sir John Winter – Trevor I think they call him.”

      “Yes; that’s the name. I know him well enough – too well. ’Twas he as took me in the High Meadows.”

      “Oh! it was. Well; he hev taked Will, too, an’ carried him away to Lydney, where Sir John ha’ now got a gaol o’ his own. There wor some trouble ’bout it; the Lord Herbert, who’s governor at Monnerth, claimin’ him as his prisoner. But the other sayed as yours wor a case o’ deer-stealin’ in the Forest, an’ Will had helped, ye ought both be taken before Sir John an’ tried by him, he bein’ head man o’ it. Then Lord Herbert gave in, an’ let them take him off. Will did help ye a bit, didn’t he?”

      “More’n a bit. But for him, liker than not, I’d now be in theer lock-up at Lydney. Well, if he be goed there he mayn’t ha’ so long to stay as they think for – won’t, if what I’ve heerd be true.”

      “What’s ye heerd, Rob?”

      “Some news as ha’ just come down from Lunnun. It’s sayed the King’s been СКАЧАТЬ