The White Gauntlet. Reid Mayne

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      The dark doubt that had arisen in her mind was not to be resolved in that hour. Scarce had she entered upon her anxious surveillance when an incident arose, causing the morris dance to be suddenly interrupted.

      Amidst the shouts, laughter, and cheering that accompanied the spectacle, only a few who had strayed outside the enclosure of the camp, caught the first whisperings of a strange, and to them, inexplicable sound. It appeared to proceed from some part of the road – outside the main entrance of the camp; and resembled a continued tinkling of steel implements, mingled with the hoof-strokes of a multitude of horses – not going at will, but ridden with that cadenced step that betokens the passage of a squadron of cavalry.

      They who first heard it, had scarce time to make this observation – much less to communicate their thoughts to the people inside the camp – when another sound reached their ears – equally significant of the movement of mounted men. It was the call of a cavalry bugle commanding the “Halt.”

      At the same instant the hoof-strokes ceased to be heard; and, as the last notes of the bugle died away in the distant woods, there was an interim of profound silence, broken only by the soft cooing of the wood-quest, or the shriller piping of the thrush.

      Equally within the camp was the silence complete. The cheers had been checked, and the laughter subdued, at that unusual sound. The ears of all were bent to listen for its repetition; while all eyes were turned in the direction whence it appeared to have proceeded.

      There was something ominous in the sudden interruption of the sports, by a sound unexpected, as it was ill understood; and some faces, but the moment before beaming with joy, assumed a serious aspect.

      “Soldiers!” exclaimed several voices in the same breath; while the crowd, forsaking the spectacle of the morris dance, rushed up to the top of the moat, and stood listening as before.

      Once more came the clear tones of the cavalry trumpet, this time directing the “Forward”; and, before the signal had ceased to echo over the undulations of the park, the first files of a squadron of cuirassiers were seen passing between the massive piers of the main entrance, and advancing along the drive that led towards the mansion.

      File followed file in regular order – each horseman, as he debouched from under the shadow of the trees, appearing to become a-blaze through the sudden flashing of the sunbeams upon the plates of his polished armour.

      As the troop, riding by two’s, had half advanced into the open ground, and still continued advancing, it presented the appearance of some gigantic snake gliding in through the gateway – the steel armour representing its scales, and the glittering files answering to the vertebrae of the reptile.

      When all had ridden inside, and commenced winding up the slope that conducted to the dwelling, still more perfect was this resemblance to some huge serpent – beautiful but dangerous – crawling slowly on to the destruction of its victim.

      “The cuirassiers of the king!”

      There were many in the camp who needed not this announcement to make known to them the character of the new comers. The cuirass covering the buff doublet – the steel cap and gorget – the cuisses on the thighs – the pauldrons protecting the shoulders – the rear and vam-braces on the arms – all marked the mailed costume of the cuirassier; while the royal colours, carried in front by the cornet of the troop, proclaimed them the cuirassiers of the king.

      By the side of this officer rode another, whose elegant equipments and splendidly caparisoned horse announced him to be the officer in command – the captain.

      “The cuirassiers of the king!” What wanted they in the park of Sir Marmaduke Wade? Or what was their business at his mansion: for thither were they directing their march?

      This question was put by more than one pair of lips; but by none less capable of answering it than those of Sir Marmaduke himself.

      The spectacle of the morris dance had been altogether abandoned. Both actors and spectators had rushed promiscuously towards the moat – on that side fronting to the park – and having taken stand upon its crest, were uttering exclamations of astonishment, or exchanging interrogatories about this new interlude not mentioned in the programme of the entertainments.

      At this moment the bugle once more brayed out the “Halt”; and, in obedience to the signal, the cuirassiers again reined up.

      As by this the head of the troop had arrived opposite to the old camp – and was at no great distance from it – some words that passed between the two officers, could be heard distinctly by the people standing upon the moat.

      “I say, Stubbs,” called out the captain, spurring a length or two out from the troop, and pointing towards the camp, “What are those rustics doing up yonder? Can you guess?”

      “Haven’t the most distant idea,” answered the individual addressed.

      “They appear to be in their holiday toggery – best bibs and tuckers. Is’t a Whitsun-ale or a May-making?”

      “Can’t be either,” rejoined Stubbs. “Isn’t the season. No, by Ged!”

      “By the smock of Venus! there appear to be some pretty petticoats among them? Mayn’t be such dull quarters after all.”

      “No, by Ged! Anything but dull, I should say.”

      “Ride within speaking distance; and ask them, what the devil they are doing.”

      The cornet, thus commanded, clapped spurs to his horse; and, after galloping within fifty paces of the fosse, pulled up.

      “What the devil are you doing?” cried he, literally delivering the order with which he had been entrusted.

      Of course to such a rude interrogatory, neither Sir Marmaduke, nor any of those standing around him, vouchsafed response. Some of the common people in the crowd, however, called out – “We’re merry-making. It’s a fête – a birthday celebration.”

      “Oh! that’s it,” muttered the cornet, turning and riding back to communicate the intelligence to his superior officer.

      “Let’s go up, and make their acquaintance,” said the latter, as Stubbs delivered his report. “We shall reconnoitre these rustic beauties of Bucks, giving them the advantage of their holiday habiliments. What say you, Stubbs?”

      “Agreeable,” was the laconic reply of the cornet.

      “Allons! as they say in France. We may find something up yonder worth climbing the hill for. As they also say in France, nous verrons!”

      Ordering the troopers to dismount, and stand by their horses – their own being given to a brace of grooms – the two officers, in full armour as they were, commenced ascending the slope that led to the Saxon encampment.

      Volume One – Chapter Eighteen

      “So, good, people!” said Scarthe, as soon as he and his companion had entered within the enclosure, “holding holiday are you? An admirable idea in such fine weather – with the azure sky over your heads, and the green trees before your faces. Pray don’t let us interrupt your Arcadian enjoyment. Go on with the sports! I hope you have no objection to our becoming spectators?”

      “No! no!” cried several voices in response, “you are welcome, sirs! you are welcome!”

      Having СКАЧАТЬ