Guy Fawkes: or, The Gunpowder Treason: An Historical Romance. Ainsworth William Harrison

panel in the wall flew open, and Guy Fawkes, followed by Humphrey Chetham, and another personage, sprang through the aperture, and presented a petronel at the head of the pursuivant.

      CHAPTER V.

      CHAT MOSS

      The pursuivant was taken so completely unawares by the sudden appearance of Guy Fawkes and his companions, that he made no attempt at resistance. Nor were his attendants less confounded. Before they recovered from their surprise, Humphrey Chetham seized Viviana in his arms, and darting through the panel, called to the priest to follow him. Father Oldcorne was about to comply, when one of the soldiers, grasping the surcingle at his waist, dragged him forcibly backwards. The next moment, however, he was set free by Guy Fawkes, who, felling the man to the ground, and interposing himself between the priest and the other soldier, enabled the former to make good his retreat. This done, he planted himself in front of the panel, and with a petronel in each hand, menaced his opponents.

      “Fly for your lives!” he shouted in a loud voice to the others. “Not a moment is to be lost. I have taken greater odds, and in a worse cause, and have not been worsted. Heed me not, I say. I will defend the passage till you are beyond reach of danger. Fly! – fly!”

      “After them!” vociferated the pursuivant, stamping with rage and vexation; “after them instantly! Hew down that bold traitor. Show him no quarter. His life is forfeit to the king. Slay him as you would a dog!”

      But the men, having no fire-arms, were so much intimidated by the fierce looks of Guy Fawkes, and the deadly weapons he pointed at their heads, that they hesitated to obey their leader's injunctions.

      “Do you hear what I say to you, cravens?” roared the pursuivant. “Cut him down without mercy.”

      “They dare not move a footstep,” rejoined Guy Fawkes, in a decisive tone.

      “Recreants!” cried the pursuivant, foaming with rage, “is my prey to be snatched from me at the very moment I have secured it, through your cowardice? Obey me instantly, or, as Heaven shall judge me, I will denounce you to my Lord Derby and the Commissioners as aiders and abettors in Father Oldcorne's escape! – and you well know what your punishment will be if I do so. What! – are you afraid of one man?”

      “Our pikes are no match for his petronels,” observed the foremost soldier, sullenly.

      “They are not,” rejoined Guy Fawkes; “and you will do well not to compel me to prove the truth of your assertion. As to you, Master Pursuivant," he continued, with a look so stern that the other quailed before it, “unwilling as I am to shed blood, I shall hold your life, if I am compelled to take it, but just retribution for the fate you have brought upon the unfortunate Elizabeth Orton.

      “Ha!” exclaimed the pursuivant, starting. “I thought I recognised you. You are the soldier in the Spanish garb who saved that false prophetess from drowning.”

      “I saved her only for a more lingering death,” rejoined Guy Fawkes.

      “I know it,” retorted the pursuivant. “I found her dead body when I visited her cell on my way hither, and gave orders to have it interred without coffin or shroud in that part of the burial-ground of the Collegiate Church in Manchester reserved for common felons.”

      “I know not what stays my hand,” rejoined Guy Fawkes, fiercely. “But I am strongly tempted to give you a grave beside her.”

      “I will put your daring to the proof!” cried the pursuivant, snatching a pike from one of his followers, and brandishing it over his head. “Throw down your arms, or you die!”

      “Back!” exclaimed Guy Fawkes, presenting a petronel at him, “or I lodge a bullet in your brain.”

      “Be advised by me, and rush not on certain destruction, good Master Pursuivant,” said the foremost soldier, plucking his mantle. “I see by his bloodthirsty looks that the villain is in earnest.”

      “I hear footsteps,” cried the other soldier; “our comrades are at hand.”

      “Then it is time for me to depart,” cried Guy Fawkes, springing through the secret door, and closing it after him.

      “Confusion!” exclaimed the pursuivant; “but he shall not escape. Break open the panel.”

      The order was promptly obeyed. The men battered the stout oak board, which was of great thickness, with their pikes, but it resisted every effort, nor was it until the arrival of a fresh band of soldiers with lights, mallets, chisels, and other implements suitable to the purpose, that it could be forced open. This accomplished, the pursuivant, commanding his attendants to follow him, dashed through the aperture. As they proceeded singly along the narrow passage, the roof became so low that they were compelled to adopt a stooping posture. In this manner they hurried on until their further progress was stopped by a massive stone door, which appeared to descend from above by some hidden contrivance, no trace of bolt or other fastening being discernible. The flag fitted closely in channels in the walls, and had all the appearance of solid masonry. After examining this obstacle for a moment, the pursuivant was convinced that any attempt to move it would be impracticable, and muttering a deep execration, he gave the word to return.

      “From the course it appears to take,” he observed, “this passage must communicate with the garden, – perhaps with the further side of the moat. We may yet secure them, if we use despatch.”

      To return to the fugitives. On arriving at the point where the stone door was situated, which he discovered by the channels in the wall above-mentioned, Guy Fawkes searched for an iron ring, and, having found it, drew it towards him, and the ponderous flag slowly dropped into its place. He then groped his way cautiously along in the dark, until his foot encountered the top of a ladder, down which he crept, and landed on the floor of a damp deep vault. Having taken the precaution to remove the ladder, he hastened onwards for about fifty yards, when he came to a steep flight of stone steps, distinguishable by a feeble glimmer of light from above, and mounting them, emerged through an open trap-door into a small building situated at the western side of the moat, where, to his surprise and disappointment, he found the other fugitives.

      “How comes it you are here?” he exclaimed, in a reproachful tone. “I kept the wolves at bay thus long, to enable you to make good your retreat.”

      “Miss Radcliffe is too weak to move,” replied Humphrey Chetham; “and I could not persuade Father Oldcorne to leave her.”

      “I care not what becomes of me,” said the priest. “The sooner my painful race is run the better. But I cannot – will not abandon my dear charge thus.”

      “Think not of me, father, I implore you,” rejoined Viviana, who had sunk overpowered with terror and exhaustion. “I shall be better soon. Master Chetham, I am assured, will remain with me till our enemies have departed, and I will then return to the hall.”

      “Command me as you please, Miss Radcliffe,” replied Humphrey Chetham. “You have but to express a wish to insure its fulfilment on my part.”

      “Oh! that you had suffered Mr. Catesby to tarry with us till the morning, as he himself proposed, dear daughter,” observed the priest, turning to Viviana.

      “Has Catesby been here?” inquired Guy Fawkes, with a look of astonishment.

      “He has,” replied Oldcorne. “He came to warn us that the hall would be this night searched by the officers of state; and he also brought word that a warrant had been issued by the Privy Council for the arrest of Sir William Radcliffe.”

      “Where is he now?” demanded Fawkes, hastily.

      “On the way to Chester, whither he departed in all haste, at Viviana's urgent request, to apprise her father of his danger,” rejoined the priest.

      “This is strange!” muttered Guy Fawkes. “Catesby here, and I not know it!”

      “He had a secret motive for his visit, my son,” whispered Oldcorne, significantly.

      “So I conclude, father,” replied Fawkes, in the same tone.

      “Viviana Radcliffe,” murmured Humphrey