The Lancashire Witches (Historical Novel). William Harrison Ainsworth

this moment, the music, which had ceased while some arrangements were made, commenced a very lively tune, known as “Round about the May-pole,” and Robin Hood, taking the May Queen’s hand, led her towards the pole, and placing her near it, the whole of her attendants took hands, while a second circle was formed by the morris-dancers, and both began to wheel rapidly round her, the music momently increasing in spirit and quickness. An irresistible desire to join in the measure seized some of the lads and lasses around, and they likewise took hands, and presently a third and still wider circle was formed, wheeling gaily round the other two. Other dances were formed here and there, and presently the whole green was in movement.

      “If you come off heart-whole to-night, Dick, I shall be surprised,” observed Nicholas, who with his young relative had approached as near the May-pole as the three rounds of dancers would allow them.

      Richard Assheton made no reply, but glanced at the pink which he had placed in his doublet.

      “Who is the May Queen?” inquired Sir Thomas Metcalfe, who had likewise drawn near, of a tall man holding a little girl by the hand.

      “Alizon, dowter of Elizabeth Device, an mey sister,” replied James Device, gruffly.

      “Humph!” muttered Sir Thomas, “she is a well-looking lass. And she dwells here—in Whalley, fellow?” he added.

      “Hoo dwells i’ Whalley,” responded Jem, sullenly.

      “I can easily find her abode,” muttered the knight, walking away.

      “What was it Sir Thomas said to you, Jem?” inquired Nicholas, who had watched the knight’s gestures, coming up.

      Jem related what had passed between them.

      “What the devil does he want with her?” cried Nicholas. “No good, I’m sure. But I’ll spoil his sport.”

      “Say boh t’ word, squoire, an ey’n break every boan i’ his body,” remarked Jem.

      “No, no, Jem,” replied Nicholas. “Take care of your pretty sister, and I’ll take care of him.”

      At this juncture, Sir Thomas, who, in spite of the efforts of the pacific Master Potts to tranquillise him, had been burning with wrath at the affront he had received from Nicholas, came up to Richard Assheton, and, noticing the pink in his bosom, snatched it away suddenly.

      “I want a flower,” he said, smelling at it.

      “Instantly restore it, Sir Thomas!” cried Richard Assheton, pale with rage, “or—”

      “What will you do, young sir?” rejoined the knight tauntingly, and plucking the flower in pieces. “You can get another from the fair nymph who gave you this.”

      Further speech was not allowed the knight, for he received a violent blow on the chest from the hand of Richard Assheton, which sent him reeling backwards, and would have felled him to the ground if he had not been caught by some of the bystanders. The moment he recovered, Sir Thomas drew his sword, and furiously assaulted young Assheton, who stood ready for him, and after the exchange of a few passes, for none of the bystanders dared to interfere, sent his sword whirling over their heads through the air.

      “Bravo, Dick,” cried Nicholas, stepping up, and clapping his cousin on the back, “you have read him a good lesson, and taught him that he cannot always insult folks with impunity, ha! ha!” And he laughed loudly at the discomfited knight.

      “He is an insolent coward,” said Richard Assheton. “Give him his sword and let him come on again.”

      “No, no,” said Nicholas, “he has had enough this time. And if he has not, he must settle an account with me. Put up your blade, lad.”

      “I’ll be revenged upon you both,” said Sir Thomas, taking his sword, which had been brought him by a bystander, and stalking away.

      “You leave us in mortal dread, doughty knight,” cried Nicholas, shouting after him, derisively—“ha! ha! ha!”

      Richard Assheton’s attention was, however, turned in a different direction, for the music suddenly ceasing, and the dancers stopping, he learnt that the May Queen had fainted, and presently afterwards the crowd opened to give passage to Robin Hood, who bore her inanimate form in his arms.

      Chapter 4.

       Alice Nutter

       Table of Contents

      The quarrel between Nicholas Assheton and Sir Thomas Metcalfe had already been made known to Sir Ralph by the officious Master Potts, and though it occasioned the knight much displeasure; as interfering with the amicable arrangement he hoped to effect with Sir Thomas for his relatives the Robinsons, still he felt sure that he had sufficient influence with his hot-headed cousin, the squire, to prevent the dispute from being carried further, and he only waited the conclusion of the sports on the green, to take him to task. What was the knight’s surprise and annoyance, therefore, to find that a new brawl had sprung up, and, ignorant of its precise cause, he laid it entirely at the door of the turbulent Nicholas. Indeed, on the commencement of the fray he imagined that the squire was personally concerned in it, and full of wroth, flew to the scene of action; but before he got there, the affair, which, as has been seen, was of short duration, was fully settled, and he only heard the jeers addressed to the retreating combatant by Nicholas. It was not Sir Ralph’s way to vent his choler in words, but the squire knew in an instant, from the expression of his countenance, that he was greatly incensed, and therefore hastened to explain.

      “What means this unseemly disturbance, Nicholas?” cried Sir Ralph, not allowing the other to speak. “You are ever brawling like an Alsatian squire. Independently of the ill example set to these good folk, who have met here for tranquil amusement, you have counteracted all my plans for the adjustment of the differences between Sir Thomas Metcalfe and our aunt of Raydale. If you forget what is due to yourself, sir, do not forget what is due to me, and to the name you bear.”

      “No one but yourself should say as much to me, Sir Ralph,” rejoined Nicholas somewhat haughtily; “but you are under a misapprehension. It is not I who have been fighting, though I should have acted in precisely the same manner as our cousin Dick, if I had received the same affront, and so I make bold to say would you. Our name shall suffer no discredit from me; and as a gentleman, I assert, that Sir Thomas Metcalfe has only received due chastisement, as you yourself will admit, cousin, when you know all.”

      “I know him to be overbearing,” observed Sir Ralph.

      “Overbearing is not the word, cousin,” interrupted Nicholas; “he is as proud as a peacock, and would trample upon us all, and gore us too, like one of the wild bulls of Bowland, if we would let him have his way. But I would treat him as I would the bull aforesaid, a wild boar, or any other savage and intractable beast, hunt him down, and poll his horns, or pluck out his tusks.”

      “Come, come, Nicholas, this is no very gentle language,” remarked Sir Ralph.

      “Why, to speak truth, cousin, I do not feel in any very gentle frame of mind,” rejoined the squire; “my ire has been roused by this insolent braggart, my blood is up, and I long to be doing.”

      “Unchristian feelings, Nicholas,” said Sir Ralph, severely, “and should be overcome. Turn the other cheek to the smiter. I trust you bear no malice to Sir Thomas.”

      “I bear him no malice, for I hope malice is not in my nature, cousin,” replied Nicholas, “but I owe him a grudge, and when a fitting opportunity occurs—”

      “No more of this, unless you would really incur my displeasure,” rejoined Sir Ralph; “the matter has gone far enough, too far, perhaps for amendment, and if you know it not, I can tell you that Sir Thomas’s claims to Raydale will be difficult to dispute, and so our uncle Robinson has found since he hath taken counsel on the case.”

      “Have a care, Sir Ralph,”