Peveril of the Peak by Walter Scott (sci fi books to read .txt) 📖

CHAPTER VI You shall have no worse prison than my chamber, Nor jailer than myself. —THE CAPTAIN.

The command which Lady Peveril laid on her domestics to arm themselves, was so unlike the usual gentle acquiescence of her manners, that Major Bridgenorth was astonished. “How mean you, madam?” said he; “I thought myself under a friendly roof.”

“And you are so, Master Bridgenorth,” said the Lady Peveril, without departing from the natural calmness of her voice and manner; “but it is a roof which must not be violated by the outrage of one friend against another.”

“It is well, madam,” said Bridgenorth, turning to the door of the apartment. “The worthy Master Solsgrace has already foretold, that the time was returned when high houses and proud names should be once more an excuse for the crimes of those who inhabit the one and bear the other. I believed him not, but now see he is wiser than I. Yet think not I will endure this tamely. The blood of my brother—of the friend of my bosom—shall not long call from the altar, ‘How long, O Lord, how long!’ If there is one spark of justice left in this unhappy England, that proud woman and I shall meet where she can have no partial friend to protect her.”

So saying, he was about to leave the apartment, when Lady Peveril said, “You depart not from this place, Master Bridgenorth, unless you give me your word to renounce all purpose against the noble Countess’s liberty upon the present occasion.”

“I would sooner,” answered he, “subscribe to my own dishonour, madam, written down in express words, than to any such composition. If any man offers to interrupt me, his blood be on his own head!” As Major Bridgenorth spoke, Whitaker threw open the door, and showed that, with the alertness of an old soldier, who was not displeased to see things tend once more towards a state of warfare, he had got with him four stout fellows in the Knight of the Peak’s livery, well armed with swords and carabines, buff-coats, and pistols at their girdles.

“I will see,” said Major Bridgenorth, “if any of these men be so desperate as to stop me, a freeborn Englishman, and a magistrate in the discharge of my duty.”

So saying, he advanced upon Whitaker and his armed assistants, with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Do not be so desperate, Master Bridgenorth,” exclaimed Lady Peveril; and added, in the same moment, “Lay hold upon, and disarm him, Whitaker; but do him no injury.”

Her commands were obeyed. Bridgenorth, though a man of moral resolution, was not one of those who undertook to cope in person with odds of a description so formidable. He half drew his sword, and offered such show of resistance as made it necessary to secure him by actual force; but then yielded up his weapon, and declared that, submitting to force which one man was unable to resist, he made those who commanded, and who employed it, responsible for assailing his liberty without a legal warrant.

“Never mind a warrant on a pinch, Master Bridgenorth,” said old Whitaker; “sure enough you have often acted upon a worse yourself. My lady’s word is as good as a warrant, sure, as Old Noll’s commission; and you bore that many a day, Master Bridgenorth, and, moreover, you laid me in the stocks for drinking the King’s health, Master Bridgenorth, and never cared a farthing about the laws of England.”

“Hold your saucy tongue, Whitaker,” said the Lady Peveril; “and do you, Master Bridgenorth, not take it to heart that you are detained prisoner for a few hours, until the Countess of Derby can have nothing to fear from your pursuit. I could easily send an escort with her that might bid defiance to any force you could muster; but I wish, Heaven knows, to bury the remembrance of old civil dissensions, not to awaken new. Once more, will you think better of it—assume your sword again, and forget whom you have now seen at Martindale Castle?”

“Never,” said Bridgenorth. “The crime of this cruel woman will be the last of human injuries which I can forget. The last thought of earthly kind which will leave me, will be the desire that justice shall be done on her.”

“If such be your sentiments,” said Lady Peveril, “though they are more allied to revenge than to justice, I must provide for my friend’s safety, by putting restraint upon your person. In this room you will be supplied with every necessary of life, and every convenience; and a message shall relieve your domestics of the anxiety which your absence from the Hall is not unlikely to occasion. When a few hours, at most two days, are over, I will myself relieve you from confinement, and demand your pardon for now acting as your obstinacy compels me to do.”

The Major made no answer, but that he was in her hands, and must submit to her pleasure; and then turned sullenly to the window, as if desirous to be rid of their presence.

The Countess and the Lady Peveril left the apartment arm in arm; and the lady issued forth her directions to Whitaker concerning the mode in which she was desirous that Bridgenorth should be guarded and treated during his temporary confinement; at the same time explaining to him, that the safety of the Countess of Derby required that he should be closely watched.

In all proposals for the prisoner’s security, such as the regular relief of guards, and the like, Whitaker joyfully acquiesced, and undertook, body for body, that he should be detained in captivity for the necessary period. But the old steward was not half so docile when it came to be considered how the captive’s bedding and table should be supplied; and he thought Lady Peveril displayed a very undue degree of attention to her prisoner’s comforts. “I warrant,” he said, “that the cuckoldly Roundhead ate enough of our fat beef yesterday to serve him for a month; and a little fasting will do his health good. Marry, for drink, he shall have plenty of cold water to cool his hot liver, which I will be bound is still hissing with the strong liquors of yesterday. And as for bedding, there are the fine dry board—more wholesome than the wet straw I lay upon when I was in the stocks, I trow.”

“Whitaker,” said the lady peremptorily, “I desire you to provide Master Bridgenorth’s bedding and food in the way I have signified to you; and to behave yourself towards him in all civility.”

“Lack-a-day! yes, my lady,” said Whitaker; “you shall have all your directions punctually obeyed; but as an old servant, I cannot but speak my mind.”

The ladies retired after this conference with the steward in the antechamber, and were soon seated in another apartment, which was