Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
No Quarter!By Captain Mayne ReidPublished by Hurst and Company, New York.This edition dated 1890.
No Quarter! by Captain Mayne Reid.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________NO QUARTER! BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.
PROLOGUE.
There is no page in England's history so bright, nor of which Englishmenhave such reason to be proud, as that covering the period between 1640and 1650. This glorious decade was ushered in by the election of the"Long Parliament," and I challenge the annals of all nations, ancient ormodern, to show an assembly in which sat a greater number of statesmenand patriots. Brave as pure, fearless in the discharge of theirdifficult and dangerous duties, they faltered not in the performance ofthem--shrank not from impeaching a traitor to his country, and bringinghis head to the block, even when it carried a crown. True to theirconsciences, as to their constituencies, they left England a heritage ofhonour that for long haloed her escutcheon, and even to this hour throwsits covering screen over many a deed of shame.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Be a King?"
"Am I not one?"
"In name--nothing more. Ah! were I a man and in your place?"
"What would you do?"
"Give your island churls a taste of kingship, as we know it in France.My brother wouldn't let his subjects so beard him. Oh, it'sabominable!"
"Ah, _chere_; for subjects your brother has a very different sort ofpeople to deal with. In France they're not yet come to clamouring forwhat they call their rights and liberties. Here in England they've gotMagna Charta into their heads--to a craze."
"I'd have it out of their heads, or have their heads off. _Ciel_! I'dreign King as King should, or resign. No! not resign. Sooner than thatI'd waste the country with fire and sword--make it a wilderness."
It was Henrietta, wife of Charles the First, who thus expressed herselfto her husband. They were alone in the gardens of Whitehall Palace,sauntering side by side on a terrace overlooking the Thames, theafternoon being an unusually fine one. As they made a turn whichbrought Westminster Hall before their eyes, the angry fire in those ofthe Queen flashed up again, and she added--
"Anything but be dictated to by that _canaille_ of a Parliament!Anything but let them go on as now?"
"How am I to hinder it, Henriette?" the King timidly interrogated.
"Dismiss--send them packing back to their constituencies, and let themprate away there as much as they please. Dissolve and do without them,as you've done before."
"That would be to do without the money we so much need. My subjects aredetermined to resist every tax levied under Privy Seal or otherwise. Ican no longer raise loan or sell monopoly. Your own secretary, Sir JohnWintour, has just been telling me how the people of Dean Forest havebeen harassing him about the grant we gave him of its timber and mines.Impossible now to obtain the most insignificant supplies without theirbeing sanctioned by this _cabal_ called Parliament."
"Then make the _cabal_ sanction them."
"But how, _chere_?"
"Have a score or two of them arrested--lodged in the Tower; and letMonsieur Tom Lunsford take care of them. He'll soon cure them of theirseditious inclinings."
"To do that were as much as my crown's worth."
"If't be worth no more, you may as well cease wearing it. Fling it intothe Thames, or melt it down and sell it to the Ludgate Street goldsmithsfor old metal. Shame of you, Charles! You talk of kingly rights, yetfail to exercise them--fear it?"
"My subjects talk of rights, too."
"Yes, and you encourage them--by your timidity. Ever on your kneesbegging this and begging that, when a true king would command.Subjects, indeed! more like our masters. But I'd teach them obedience.What would they be without a king? What were they born for but toadminister to our wants and our pleasures?"
Words worthy of a Medici; the sentiments of a queen two centuries and ahalf ago. Yet not so very different from those entertained by mostRoyal personages at the present day and hour. But few of them who wouldnot sit placidly upon their thrones, see subjects slain, and realmsreduced to desolation, rather than resign crown or yield up one iota ofwhat they are pleased to call their prerogative. How could it beotherwise? Environed by sycophantic flatterers, heads bowing, kneesbending, tongues eternally bepraising; things in human shape giving themadoration as to God Himself--ay, greater than to God--how could it beotherwise? Not so strange that this proud, pampered woman, from hercradle accustomed to such slavish obedience, should verily believe itbut her due.
"_Their_ rights?" she continued, with a satirical laugh. "An absurdnotion they've got into their Saxon skulls. Ah! _mon mari_, were I youfor a month--for a week--I'd have it out--stamp it out--I would."
And to give emphasis to her speech, she stamped her foot upon theground.
A pretty foot it was, and still a handsome woman she, this daughter ofthe Medicis, notwithstanding her being now somewhat _passe_. Ambitiousas Catherine herself--"that mother of a race of kings"--intriguing,notoriously dissolute, not the less did Charles love her. Perhaps themore, for the cuckoo's cry is a wonderful incentive to passion, as tojealousy. He doted upon her with foolish fondness--would have doneanything she commanded, even murder. And to more than this was she nowinstigating him; for it was to stifle, trample out the liberties of anation, no matter at what cost in life or blood.
Wicked as were her counsels, he would have followed them and willingly,could he have seen his way clear to success. Men still talk of hiskindly nature--in face of the fact, proved by irresistible evidence,that he rejoiced at the massacre of the Protestants in Ireland, to saynaught of many other instances of inhumanity brought home to thisso-called "Martyr King." He may not have been--was not--either a Neroor a Theebaw; and with his favourites and familiars no doubt behavedamicably enough; at the same time readily sacrificing them when dangerthreatened himself. To his wife his fidelity and devotion were such asto have earned for him the epithet "uxorious," a title which can be morereadily conceded. But in his affection for her--whether upheld byrespect or not--there was a spice of fear. He knew all about thescandals relating to her mother, Marie of France, with Richelieu, andhis own and father's favourite, the assassinated Buckingham, nowsleeping in his grave. Charles more than suspected, as did all theworld besides, that this same Queen-mother had sent her husband--king ashimself--to an untimely tomb by a "cup of cold poison." And oft as thedark Italian eyes of her daughter flashed upon him in anger, he feltsecret fear she might some day serve him as had her mother the ill-fatedmonarch of France. She was of a race and a land whence such dangermight be reasonably expected and dreaded. Lucrezia Borgia and Tophanawere not the only great female poisoners Italy has produced.
"If you've no care for yourself, then," she went on with untiringpersistence, "think of our children. Think of him," and she noddedtowards a gaudily-dressed stripling of some ten or twelve, seen comingtowards them. It was he who, twenty years after, under the seeminglyinnocent soubriquet of "Merry Monarch," made sadness in many a familycircle, smouching England's escutcheon all over with shame, scarceequalled in the annals of France.
"_Pauvre enfant_!" she exclaimed, as he came up, passing her jewelledfingers through the curls of his hair; "your father would leave youbereft of your birthright; some day to be a king with a worthlesscrown."
The "pauvre enfant," a sly young wretch, smiled in return for hercaresses, looking dark at his father. Young as he was, he knew what wasmeant, and took sides with his mother. She had already wellindoctrinated him with the ideas of Divine Right, as understood b
y aMedici.
"_Peste_!" exclaimed the King, looking vexed, possibly at the allusionto a successor; "were I to follow your counsels, Madam, it might resultin my leaving him no crown at all."
"Then leave him none!" she said in quick return, and with an air ofjaunty indifference. "Perhaps better so. I, his mother, would rathersee him a peasant than prince, with such a future as you are laying outfor him."
"Sire, the Earl of Strafford craves audience of your Majesty."
This was said by a youth in the official costume of the Court, who hadapproached from the Palace, and stood with head bent before the King.
A remarkably handsome young fellow he was, and the Queen, as she turnedher eyes on him, seemed to recover sweetness of temper.
"I suppose my company will be _de trop_ now," she said. Then facingtowards the youth, and bestowing upon him one of her syren smiles--slylythough--she added, "Here, Eustace; bring this to my boudoir," and shehanded him a large book, a _portfeuille_ of pictures, she had been allthe while carrying.
Whether the King caught sight of that smile, and read something wrong init, or not, he certainly seemed irritated, hastily interposing--
"No, Henriette, I'd rather have you stay."
"_Con tout plaisir_." A slight cloud upon her brow told the contrary."Charles, too?"
"No; he can go. Yes, Trevor. Conduct the Lord Strafford hither."
Eustace Trevor, as the handsome youth was called, bowing, turned andwent off, the Prince with him. Then said the King--
"I wish you to hear what Strafford has to say on the subject we've beentalking of."
"Just what I wish myself," she rejoined, resuming her air of _braverie_."If you won't listen to me, a weak woman, perhaps you will to him, aman--_one of courage_."
Charles writhed under her speech, the last words of it. Even withoutthe emphasis on them, they were more than an insinuation that he himselflacked that quality men are so proud of, and women so much admire.Almost a direct imputation, as if she had called him "coward!" Butthere was no time for him to make retort, angry or otherwise, even hadhe dared. The man seeking audience was already in the garden, andwithin earshot. So, swallowing his chagrin as he best could, andputting on the semblance of placidity, the King in silence awaited hiscoming up.
With an air of confident familiarity, and as much nonchalance as thoughthey had been but ordinary people, Strafford approached the royal pair.The Queen had bestowed smiles on him too; he knew he had herfriendship--moreover that she was the King's master. He had pouredflattery into her ears, as another Minister courtier of later time intothose of another queen--perhaps the only point of resemblance betweenthe two men, otherwise unlike as Hyperion to the Satyr. With all hissins, Wentworth had redeeming qualities; he was at least a brave man andsomewhat of a gentleman.
"What do you say to this, my lord?" asked the Queen, as he came up."I've been giving the King some counsel; advising him to dissolve theParliament, or at least do something to stop them in their wickedcourses. Favour us with your opinion, my lord."
"My opinion," answered the Minister, making his bow, "corresponds withthat of your Majesty. _Certes_, half-hand measures will no longer availin dealing with these seditious gabblers. There's a dozen of themdeserve having their heads chopped off."
"Just what I've been saying!" triumphantly exclaimed the Queen. "Youhear that, _mon mari_?"
Charles but nodded assent, waiting for his Minister to speak further.
"At the pace they're going now, Sire," the latter continued, "they'llsoon strip you of all prerogative--leave you of Royalty but the rags."
"_Ciel_, yes!" interposed the Queen. "And our poor children! What's tobecome of them?"
"I've just been over to the House," proceeded Strafford; "and to hearthem is enough to make one tear his hair. There's that Hampden, withHeselrig, Vane, and Harry Martin--Sir Robert Harley too--talking as ifEngland had no longer a king, and they themselves were its rulers."
"Do you tell me that, Strafford?"
It was Charles himself who interrogated, now showing great excitement,which the Queen's "I told you so" strengthened, as she intended it.
"With your Majesty's permission, I do," responded the Minister.
"By God's splendour!" exclaimed the indignant monarch, "I'll read them adifferent lesson--show them that England _has_ a king--one who willhereafter reign as king should--absolute--absolute!"
"Thank you, _mon ami_," said the Queen, in a side whisper to Strafford,as she favoured him with one of her most witching smiles, "He'll surelydo something now."
The little bit of by-play was unobserved by Charles, the gentleman-usherhaving again come up to announce another applicant for admission to thepresence: an historical character, too--historically infamous--for itwas Archbishop Laud.
Soon after the oily ecclesiastic was seen coming along in a gliding,stealthy gait, as though he feared giving offence by approaching royaltytoo brusquely. His air of servile obsequiousness was in strikingcontrast with the bold bearing of the visitor who had preceded him. Ashe drew near, his features, that bore the stamp of his low birth andbase nature, were relaxed to their meekest and mildest; a placid smileplaying on his lips, as though they had never told a lie, or himselfdone murder!
_Au fait_ to all that concerned the other three--every secret of Courtand Crown--for he was as much the King's Minister as Strafford, he wasat once admitted to their council, and invited to take part in theirconspirings. Appealed to, as the other had been, he gave a similarresponse. Strong measures should be taken. He knew the Queen wished itso, for it was not his first conference with her on that same subject.
Strafford was not permitted time to impart to his _trio_ of listenersthe full particulars of the cruel scheme, which some say, and with muchprobability, had its origin in Rome. For the guests of the gay Queen,expected every afternoon at Whitehall, began to arrive, interrupting theconference.
Soon the palace garden became lustrous with people in splendid apparel,the _elite_ of the land still adhering to the King's cause--plumedcavaliers, with dames old and young, though youth predominated, but notall of high degree, either in the male or female element. As in moderngarden parties given by royalty, there was a mixture, both socially andmorally, strange even to grotesqueness. The Franco-Italian Queen, withall her grand ideas of Divine Right and high Prerogative, was not lothto lay them down and aside when they stood in the way of her pleasures.She could be a very leveller where self-interest required it; and thiscalled for it now. The King's failing popularity needed support fromall sides, classes, and parties, bad or good, humble or gentle; and inthe assemblage she saw around her--there by her own invitation--suchhigh bloods as Harry Jermyn, Hertford, Digby, Coningsby, Scudamore, andthe like, touched sleeves with men of low birth and lower character--very reprobates, as Lunsford, afterwards designated "the bloody," andthe notorious desperado, David Hide! The feminine element was equallyparalleled by what may be seen in many "society" gatherings of thepresent day--virtuous ladies brushing skirts with stage courtesans, andothers who figure under the name of "professional beauties," many ofthem bearing high titles of nobility, but now debasing them.
Henrietta, in her usual way, had a pleasant word and smile for all; morefor the men than the women, and sweeter for the younger ones than theold ones. But even to the gilded youth they were not distributedimpartially. Handsome Harry Jermyn, hitherto reigning favourite, andhaving the larger share of them, had reason to suspect that his star wasupon the wane, when he saw the Queen's eyes ever and anon turned towardsanother courtier handsome as himself, with more of youth on his side--Eustace Trevor. The latter, relieved from his duty as gentleman-usher,had joined the party in the garden. Socially, he had all right to bethere. Son of a Welsh knight, he could boast of ancestry old asCaractacus, some of his forbears having served under Harry of Monmouth,and borne victorious banners at Agincourt. But boasting was not inEustace Trevor's line, nor conceit of any sort--least of all vanityabout his personal appearan
ce. However handsome others thought him, hehimself was quite unconscious of it. Equally so of the Queen'sadmiration; callous to the approaches she had commenced making, to thechagrin of older favourites. Not that he was of a cold or passionlessnature; simply because Henriette de Medici, though a Queen, a beautifulwoman as well, was not the one destined to inspire his first passion.For as yet he knew not love. But recently having become attached to theCourt in an official capacity, he thought only of how he might bestperform the duties that had been assigned him.
Though there might be many envies, jealousies, even bitter heartburningsamong the people who composed that glittering throng, they were on thewhole joyous and jubilant. A whisper had gone round of the King'sdetermination to return to his old ways, and once more boldly confrontwhat they called the aggressions of the Parliament. These concernedthem all, for they were all of the class and kind who preyed upon thepeople. Groups gathered here and there were merry in mutualcongratulations on their fine prospects for the future; hoping that,like the past, it would afford them free plunder of the nation's purseand resources--ship tax, coal and conduit money once more, loans byPrivy Seal, and sale of monopolies--all jobberies and robberiesrestored!
But just at that moment of general rejoicing, as a bombshell bursting inthe midst of a military camp or regiment of soldiers in close column,came a thing that, first setting them in a flutter, soon seriouslyalarmed them. A thing of human shape withal; a man in official robes,the uniform of a Parliamentary usher from the Lords. He was announcedas waiting outside, rather claiming than craving an interview, which theKing dared not deny him.
Summoned into the Audience Chamber, where Charles had gone to receivehim, he presented the latter with a document, the reading of whichcaused him to tremble and turn pale. For it was a Bill of Attainderthat had been agreed to by both Houses against Thomas Wentworth, Earl ofStrafford. The fluttering among the courtiers became fright, when theKing, returning to the garden, made known the usher's errand. To hisfamiliars at first, but it soon passed from lip to lip and ear to ear.None seemed so little affected as Strafford himself. Sin-hardened, hewas also endowed with indomitable courage, and maintained a bold, highbearing to the last of his life, even to the laying his head upon theblock--an episode which soon after succeeded,--the craven monarchsigning his death warrant as if it had been a receipt for one of hisloans by Privy Seal.
Far more frightened by the Parliamentary message was Archbishop Laud.For him no more pleasure that day in the gardens of Whitehall. Hissmiles and simpering all gone, with pallid cheek and clouded brow, thewretched ecclesiastic wandered around among the courtiers, seemingdistraught. And so was he. For in that Bill of Attainder he read hisown doom--read it aright.
Grand, glorious Parliament, that knew not only how to impeach, butpunish the betrayers of the people! Knew also how to maintain its owndignity and honour; as on a later occasion, when the King, once moremaddened by the stinging taunts of his wicked wife, entered the augustassembly with an escort of bullies and bravoes--Lunsford and Hide amongthem--to arrest six of England's most illustrious patriots: an attempteminently unsuccessful--an intrusion handsomely resented. As thedisappointed monarch and his disreputable following turned to go outagain, it was with a wonderful come-down in their swagger. For alongthe line of seats, on both sides of the House, they saw men withscowling faces and hats on their heads; heard, too, in chorus clearly,loudly repeated, the significant cry--"Privilege!"