Woodstock; or, the Cavalier by Walter Scott (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📖

Now the wasted brands do glow,
    While the screech-owl, sounding loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe,
    In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night
    That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets out its sprite,
    In the church-way paths to glide.

MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM.

Before the gate of the palace the guards were now doubled. Everard demanded the reason of this from the corporal, whom he found in the hall with his soldiers, sitting or sleeping around a great fire, maintained at the expense of the carved chairs and benches with fragments of which it was furnished.

“Why, verily,” answered the man, “the corps-de-garde, as your worship says, will be harassed to pieces by such duty; nevertheless, fear hath gone abroad among us, and no man will mount guard alone. We have drawn in, however, one or two of our outposts from Banbury and elsewhere, and we are to have a relief from Oxford to-morrow.”

Everard continued minute enquiries concerning the sentinels that were posted within as well as without the Lodge; and found that, as they had been stationed under the eye of Harrison himself, the rules of prudent discipline had been exactly observed in the distribution of the posts. There remained nothing therefore for Colonel Everard to do, but, remembering his own adventure of the evening, to recommend that an additional sentinel should be placed, with a companion, if judged indispensable, in that vestibule, or ante-room, from which the long gallery where he had met with the rencontre, and other suites of apartments, diverged. The corporal respectfully promised all obedience to his orders. The serving-men being called, appeared also in double force. Everard demanded to know whether the Commissioners had gone to bed, or whether he could get speech with them? “They are in their bedroom, forsooth,” replied one of the fellows; “but I think they be not yet undressed.”

“What!” said Everard, “are Colonel Desborough and Master Bletson both in the same sleeping apartment?”

“Their honours have so chosen it,” said the man; “and their honours’ secretaries remain upon guard all night.”

“It is the fashion to double guards all over the house,” said Wildrake. “Had I a glimpse of a tolerably good-looking house-maid now, I should know how to fall into the fashion.”

“Peace, fool!” said Everard.—“And where are the Mayor and Master Holdenough?”

“The Mayor is returned to the borough on horseback, behind the trooper, who goes to Oxford for the reinforcement; and the man of the steeple-house hath quartered himself in the chamber which Colonel Desborough had last night, being that in which he is most likely to meet the—your honour understands. The Lord pity us, we are a harassed family!”

“And where be General Harrison’s knaves,” said Tomkins, “that they do not marshal him to his apartment?”

“Here—here—here, Master Tomkins,” said three fellows, pressing forward, with the same consternation on their faces which seemed to pervade the whole inhabitants of Woodstock.

“Away with you, then,” said Tomkins;—“speak not to his worship—you see he is not in the humour.”

“Indeed,” observed Colonel Everard, “he looks singularly wan—his features seem writhen as by a palsy stroke; and though he was talking so fast while we came along, he hath not opened his mouth since we came to the light.”

“It is his manner after such visitations,” said Tomkins.—“Give his honour your arms, Zedekiah and Jonathan, to lead him off—I will follow instantly.—You, Nicodemus, tarry to wait upon me—it is not well walking alone in this mansion.”

“Master Tomkins,” said Everard, “I have heard of you often as a sharp, intelligent man—tell me fairly, are you in earnest afraid of any thing supernatural haunting this house?”

“I would be loth to run the chance, sir,” said Tomkins very gravely; “by looking on my worshipful master, you may form a guess how the living look after they have spoken with the dead.” He bowed low, and took his leave. Everard proceeded to the chamber which the two remaining Commissioners had, for comfort’s sake, chosen to inhabit in company. They were preparing for bed as he went into their apartment. Both started as the door opened—both rejoiced when they saw it was only Everard who entered.

“Hark ye hither,” said Bletson, pulling him aside, “sawest thou ever ass equal to Desborough?—the fellow is as big as an ox, and as timorous as a sheep. He has insisted on my sleeping here, to protect him. Shall we have a merry night on’t, ha? We will, if thou wilt take the third bed, which was prepared for Harrison; but he is gone out, like a mooncalf, to look for the valley of Armageddon in the Park of Woodstock.”

“General Harrison has returned with me but now,” said Everard.

“Nay but, as I shall live, he comes not into our apartment,” said Desborough, overhearing his answer. “No man that has been supping, for aught I know, with the Devil, has a right to sleep among Christian folk.”

“He does not propose so,” said Everard; “he sleeps, as I understand, apart—and alone.”

“Not quite alone, I dare say,” said Desborough; “for Harrison hath a sort of attraction for goblins—they fly round him like moths about a candle:—But, I prithee, good Everard, do thou stay with us. I know not how it is, but although thou hast not thy religion always in thy mouth, nor speakest many hard words about it, like Harrison—nor makest long preachments, like a certain most honourable relation of mine who shall be nameless, yet somehow I feel myself safer in thy company than with any of them. As for this Bletson, he is such a mere blasphemer, that I fear the Devil will carry him away ere morning.”

“Did you ever hear such a paltry coward?” said Bletson, apart to Everard. “Do tarry, however, mine honoured Colonel—I know your zeal to assist the distressed, and you see Desborough is in that predicament, that he will require near him more than one example to prevent him thinking of ghosts and fiends.”

“I am sorry I cannot oblige you, gentlemen,” said Everard; “but I have settled my mind to sleep in Victor Lee’s apartment, so I wish you good night; and, if you would repose without disturbance, I would advise that you commend yourselves, during the watches of the night, to Him unto whom night is even as mid-day. I had intended to have spoke with you this evening on the subject of my being here; but I will defer the conference till to-morrow, when, I think, I will be able to show you excellent reasons for leaving Woodstock.”

“We have seen plenty such already,” said Desborough; “for one, I came here to serve the estate, with some moderate advantage to myself for my trouble; but if I am set upon my head again to-night, as I was the night before, I would not stay longer to gain a king’s crown; for I am sure my neck would be unfitted to bear the weight of it.”

“Good night,” exclaimed Everard; and was about to go, when Bletson again pressed close, and whispered to him, “Hark thee, Colonel—you know my friendship for thee—I do implore thee to leave the door of thy apartment open, that if thou meetest with any disturbance, I may hear thee call, and be with thee upon the very instant. Do this, dear Everard, my fears for thee will keep me awake else; for I know that, notwithstanding your excellent sense, you entertain some of those superstitious ideas which we suck in with our mother’s milk, and which constitute the ground of our fears in situations like the present; therefore leave thy door open, if you love me, that you may have ready assistance from me in case of need.”

“My master,” said Wildrake, “trusts, first, in his Bible, sir, and then in his good sword. He has no idea that the Devil can be baffled by the charm of two men lying in one room, still less that the foul fiend can be argued out of existence by the Nullifidians of the Rota.”

Everard seized his imprudent friend by the collar, and dragged him off as he was speaking, keeping fast hold of him till they were both in the chamber of Victor Lee, where they had slept on a former occasion. Even then he continued to hold Wildrake, until the servant had arranged the lights, and was dismissed from the room; then letting him go, addressed him with the upbraiding question, “Art thou not a prudent and sagacious person, who in times like these seek’st every opportunity to argue yourself into a broil, or embroil yourself in an argument? Out on you!”

“Ay, out on me indeed,” said the cavalier; “out on me for a poor tame-spirited creature, that submits to be bandied about in this manner, by a man who is