CHAPTER XX
SCARLET HANGINGS
Barbara's prison was an old house in a narrow street of Dorchester, theground floor of which had been turned into temporary barracks forsoldiers and militiamen. The prisoner passed to rooms on the upper floorthrough a rough, gaping crowd, and in some faces pity shone throughbrutality for a moment. Something worse than death might await so fair atraitor.
The rooms to which she was taken were sparsely furnished and ratherdark, the windows looking out upon a blank wall, two roomscommunicating, but with only a single entrance from the passage without.The most hopeful would have seen little prospect of escape, and the mostspirited might wonder if depression could be successfully conquered insuch surroundings. Half a dozen soldiers had followed them up thestairs, but only Watson, whose stentorian voice seemed to fit him tocommand a troop of ruffians, entered the room with them.
"There are so many prisoners in Dorchester that we have to make shift tofind room for them," he said, as though to make apology for theaccommodation.
"Indeed, I might be much worse lodged," Barbara answered.
Harriet Payne looked round the rooms in dismay, but said nothing.
"May I know what charge is brought against me?" asked Barbara.
"With that I have naught to do," Watson answered. "I'm a soldier, not alawyer, madam. My orders are to keep you in safe custody until yourpresence is required, and I am told to see that you have everything inreason to make you comfortable."
"It would appear that I have friends in Dorchester."
"It is not unlikely, madam; as for this young person," he went on,looking at Harriet, "she will see to your wants and may pass in and out.I suppose, therefore, that nothing is known against her beyond the factthat she is found in your company."
"Your temporary mistress is evidently a dangerous person, Harriet,"Barbara said with a smile. "Had I not forced you to make this perilousjourney with me, you would have been better off."
This deliberate attempt to dissociate her from any treasonable intentionrather startled Harriet Payne.
"At least you shall find the comfort of having a maid with you, madam,"she said quickly.
"If the young person will come with me, I will show her where certainthings you may require can be found," said Watson. "There will be asentry constantly in the passage, madam, so if you hear footsteps in thenight you need not fear."
Barbara made no answer to this indirect warning that any thought offlight was hopeless, and Harriet followed Watson out of the room.
"It was well done," he whispered as they went down the passage, leavinga sentry by the locked door.
"I was not looking for your praise."
"It is given gratis," the man answered, "and in the same spirit I'llgive you a warning: don't attempt the impossible, whatever happens. Awoman like her yonder might succeed in wheedling any man, or woman."
"I want neither your praise nor your warning," said Harriet.
"And I'm not looking for another clout on the ear, mistress, such as yougave me at Witley, though, for that matter, I like a woman of spirit. Ifyou're in want of a comforter later on, you may reckon on Sam Watson."
"And Sam Watson had best be careful, or he may find himself in hot waterwith his master," Harriet answered with a toss of her head.
For herself, Barbara Lanison had little thought, but her fears forothers troubled her. As a prisoner her power to help Gilbert Crosby wasgrievously lessened. Doubtless she herself was to be accused of treason,and Judge Marriott might be afraid to say a word at her bidding, orperchance he would refuse if the power to make the sacrifice sheintended were taken from her. Death might be her punishment for treason,and if so, where was Judge Marriott's reward? There was anothercontingency: he might be able to save her, and he would certainly usehis efforts to this end instead of troubling about Crosby, no matterwhat pleading she might use. As a prisoner she was, indeed, of littleuse to Gilbert Crosby. She must see Judge Marriott and do her best, buther hope of success was small. Who had brought this disaster upon her?Surely her guardian, and Barbara's hands clenched in impotent rage tothink that he had outwitted her. Yet he could not be alone in thematter, for it was not probable that he had openly accused her himself.Had Rosmore anything to do with it? It was a new thought to Barbara. Sheknew her uncle for a villain, but about Lord Rosmore she was undecided.True, he had threatened her, but he also loved her, she could not doubtthat in his own fashion he did so. Would a man place the woman he lovedin such jeopardy as that in which she was placed? Barbara could notbelieve it possible; besides, how should Lord Rosmore know that she wason her way to Dorchester? The coming of Harriet Payne to Aylingford hadaroused Sir John's suspicions, but there was no circumstance which wouldlead Rosmore to suppose that she intended journeying to the West.
Martin Fairley also troubled her. Had he made good his escape, or had hebeen retaken and confined somewhere else in the town? She had asked theman Watson as the cavalcade had started again, and his gruff reply wasthat the fool would be left dead in the ditch by the roadside. She didnot believe Martin was dead; in fact, Martin puzzled her. He could nothave had a hand in her betrayal, yet, at the very moment when couragewas most needed, he had been a coward. Probably he had saved himself,but he had deserted her. The one person upon whose fidelity she wouldhave staked her honour had utterly forsaken her at a supreme moment.Full as her mind was of Gilbert Crosby, the failure of this half-wittedcompanion depressed her as, perhaps, nothing else could have done.
Had he really deserted her? The question came through the long, wakefulhours of the night. It came with the memory of that little cadence ofnotes, the same notes in which his fiddle laughed. He had sung them in afoolish fashion when the men surrounded the coach; had he meant to speakto her by them? The thought brought hope and sleep, sleep givingstrength, hope bringing new courage when the day came.
"To help Mr. Crosby I must Speak with Judge Marriott, who is inDorchester," she told Harriet Payne. "You must find him and ask him tocome to me."
"Will he come, madam?"
"I think so."
"Alas, you have need of help yourself now."
"Perhaps not such need as may appear. To arrest me does not prove meguilty of treason."
"It is not only the guilty who are suffering."
"Out upon you, girl, for whining so easily," said Barbara. "Couragelends help against every ill, even against death itself. You will findwhere Judge Marriott is lodged, and tell him where I am."
"They may not let me have speech with the judge."
"You must contrive, use art, use--Ah, you are a woman, and need nolesson from me."
So Harriet Payne went upon her mission, and Barbara was impatient untilher return. Disappointment was upon the girl's face when she came back.It had been easy to find out the judge's lodgings, but impossible to getspeech with him. He was too engaged to see anyone that day.
"I must try again to-morrow," said the girl.
"Yes, and the next day and the next," said Barbara. "Did anyone carry amessage for you?"
"I contrived so far, but whether it came to the judge's ears or not Icannot tell."
"I'll ask this man Watson to take a message," said Barbara.
"Not yet," said the girl. "That might be dangerous. Wait until I haveentirely failed"; and, to prove how dangerous it might be, she began totell her mistress some of the gloomy forebodings which were whisperedabout the town.
Dorchester was in terror, and spoke its fears with bated breath. Therewere three hundred prisoners awaiting judgment, and the dreaded Jeffreyswas coming; the cruel, the brutal, the malignant judge whose fame, likean evil angel, came before him, speaking of death. There was to be nopity, no mercy. If Alice Lisle, for no greater fault than compassion fortwo fugitives, was condemned with all the barbarity that the inhuman lawcould render possible; if the appeal of clergy, of ladies of highdegree, of counsellors at Whitehall, of Feversham himself, could onlymove the King to grant that she should be beheaded instead of burnedalive, what
hope for the prisoners in Dorchester who would have no suchpowerful appeal made in their favour?
The Court was already prepared, its hangings of scarlet. Judge Marriott,busily awaiting his learned brother, chuckled at the innovation. It waslike Jeffreys--an original thing, a stroke of genius. Men quaked becauseof those scarlet hangings; this was to be no ordinary assizes, but amarked occasion which should put fear into the souls of all who shouldeven think upon rebellion. Some man, in an awed undertone, spoke of itas a bloody assizes, and the name passed from lip to lip until itreached Judge Marriott's lodging. He chuckled still more, and said tothose about him that Jeffreys would act up to the name, here andwherever else in this cursed West Country there were prisoners to bepunished.
Bloody Assizes! It was almost the first articulate sound that LordRosmore heard as he galloped into the town, a troop of men about him,and those who watched him pass knew that the judge must be on his wayfrom Winchester. Rosmore laughed, but his thoughts were complex, schemesran riot in his brain. Immediately upon entering his lodging he sent forWatson and Sayers, and was restless until they came.
He looked quickly towards the door as it opened.
"The lady is safe in Dorchester," said Watson.
"And the fugitive?"
"We followed him to Witley. We should have run him to earth, only yourorders were not to go beyond Witley."
"This cursed fellow Crosby, what of him?"
"He was with this fugitive."
"And you let him go!" exclaimed Rosmore, stamping his foot passionately.
"We obeyed orders, sir, and it is well we did so. We, Sayers and I, werein Witley when the coach arrived. I had speech with Mistress Payne."
A grim smile overspread Sayers' face as he remembered the box on the earhis companion had received, but he saw that Lord Rosmore was in no moodto relish such a tale just now, and held his tongue.
"I told her something of what was to happen, and the place," saidWatson, "but had I not known at what hour the coach was to start, andwhen we might expect it at the spot chosen, we should have beenoutwitted. In the morning that fiddler from Aylingford caught the coach,and in some manner had got wind that a trap was set. He persuaded thelady to take a by-road. I waited, and then, marvelling at the delay,ordered the troop to ride forward to meet the coach. At the corner wherethis by-way turns from the high road, we found a handkerchief lying onthe grass--Mistress Payne's handkerchief. Had it not been for such asignal we had ridden past, and might have failed to catch them."
"Fairley! Then you have him too?"
"We had, sir, but he escaped."
"Escaped!"
"I have the two men who let him go under arrest," Watson answered. "Oneso badly hurt by the fall from his horse that it will be weeks before hecan fling his leg across saddle again."
"You fools! The girl has more sense in her finger than you can muster inthe whole of your carcasses. How did he get away?"
"By a trick," said Sayers. "He was taken to the rear to keep him fromhis mistress, and, on pretence of losing his stirrups, got the menbeside him to come close, when he spurred their horses, striking the menat the same time. He was round in a minute and galloping back upon theroad. Half a dozen of us went in pursuit, when the shots fired after himfailed to stop him. We went the whole way back to Witley, and there, atthe inn, found the horse lathered with foam. The animal had entered theyard riderless!"
"What fools I have to serve me!" said Rosmore, laughing derisively."Apart from the woman, it would have been failure from beginning toend."
The derision hurt Watson.
"Care must be taken even of her, my lord."
"What do you mean?"
"There is generally a tender spot in a woman somewhere, and MistressLanison may chance to find it in Harriet Payne."
"Mistress Payne is to be trusted, Watson. I'll see to that."
"She would turn her wits against you, my lord, if she thought she weredeceived. That's as sure as the coming of the Sabbath."
"Do you suppose, Watson, I throw away the skin before I have used allthe fruit? Send the girl to me to-night."
The men saluted and turned.
"And Watson, you might put a little misery into your face andcommiserate with Mistress Lanison on her position. It might interest herto hear the story of Alice Lisle of Winchester. She is high-spirited,and I would have that spirit broken."
"I will play Jeremiah, sir, like any Puritan."
"And Sayers, keep your eyes open in Dorchester. Crosby and this fiddlerare too cunning not to be dangerous. I warrant they are not far awayfrom Mistress Lanison. By Heaven! if you let her slip through yourfingers now, you shall suffer for it!"
Bloody Assizes! Along West Street the name travelled to the "AnchorInn," that hostelry of mean repute in Dorchester, and to a small upperroom where three men sat. They leaned towards each other as they spoke.
"I have failed to find out where they have taken her." said one. "Itmust have been dark when they entered Dorchester; I can find no one whoremembers such a cavalcade in the streets. I am at a loss how todiscover her prison."
"Think, Martin."
"I have never been so barren of schemes as I am how. Have you nosuggestion, Crosby?"
"I want to kill Rosmore."
"And you, Mr. Fellowes?"
"Here I may be of service. I am known as a soldier and a King's man," heanswered. "My presence in Dorchester will not be called in question, andI may learn what is the real plot on foot. Until we know it, we canhardly scheme to prevent it."
"An excellent plan," said Martin. "There is another scheme half-bornwithin me. I will let it mature to-night. Courage, comrades. Threehonest men are worth many scoundrels. Three lovers of one woman, for sowe are in our different fashions."
"That is true," said Crosby.
"Quite true," murmured Fellowes.
"And we strive together," said Martin, letting his hand fall on thetable. It was covered immediately by the other men's hands.
"Heart and soul for Mistress Lanison," said Fellowes.
"Heart and soul," said Crosby.
"Three honest and true men," murmured Fairley, and tears were in hiseyes. "A triple alliance."