No Quarter!. Майн Рид
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There was a short interval of silence after the unexpected visitor had drawn up, still keeping to his saddle. He could not well dismount without receiving invitation; and that was not extended to him, much less word of welcome. Moreover his presence there, after what had passed, not only called for explanation, but by all the rules of politeness required his giving it before aught else should be said.
He did not, however; seeming embarrassed, and leaving the master of Hollymead no choice but to take the initiative. Which the latter at length did, saying sourly, and somewhat satirically—
“What may you be wanting with me, Mr Reginald Trevor? I take it your business is with me.”
“With you it is,” brusquely returned the other, still further nettled at the way he was addressed.
“Have the goodness then to tell me what it is. I suppose it’s something that can be settled by you in the saddle. If not, you may alight and come indoors.”
Speech aggravating, terribly insulting, as Ambrose Powell intended it should be. He had long ago taken the measure of the man, and wished to drive him to a distance, even further off than he had already done. His last words were enough, without the contemptuous look that accompanied them. But, stung by both, the emissary of Sir John Wintour stood proudly up in his stirrups, as he replied, with a touch of satire too,—“No need, sir, to enter your very hospitable house, or even get off my horse’s back. My errand can be accomplished by delivering this at your door. But, as you chance to be in it, permit me to hand it direct to you.”
While speaking he had drawn from under the breast of his doublet a folded sheet, a letter, on which was a large disc of red wax, stamped with the King’s seal.
The master of Hollymead was not so impolite as to refuse taking the letter from his hands; and, as soon as in his own, he tore it open and read,—
“For Ambrose Powell, Gentn.
“Trustie and well-beloved, Wee greete you well. Having obserued in the Presidents and custome of former times that all the Kings and Queenes of the Realme, vpon extraordinary occasions, haue vsed either to resort to those Contributions, which arise from one generalitie of Subiects, or to the priuate helpes of some well affected in particular, by way of loane: In which latter course Wee being at this time inforced to proceed, for supply of some portions of Treasure for diuers publique seruices, and particularly for continuing and increasing our magazins in some large proportion in our Realme of Ireland, in our Nauie, and in our ffortes: in all which greater summes have been expended of late, both in building and repairing, and in making sundry prousions, than haue bene in twentie yeares before: We haue now in Our Eye an especiall care, that such discretion may be obserued in the choise of the lenders, and such an indifferent distribution, as the summes that Wee shall receiue may be raised with an equall Consideration of men’s abilities: And therefore, seeing men haue had so good experience of Our repayment of all those summes which we haue euer required in this kinde, Wee doubt not but Wee shall now receiue the like Argument of good affection from you (amongst other of Our Subiects), and that with such alacrity and readiness as may make the same so much the more acceptable, especially seeing Wee require but that of some which few men would deny a friend, and haue a minde resolued to expose all our earthly fortune for the preseruation of the generall. The summe that Wee require of you by vertue of these presents is three thousand Pounds, Which we do promise in the name of Us, our heires and successors, to repay to you or your Assignes within eighteene monethes after the payment thereof vnto the Commissioner. The person that we have appointed to receiue it is our worthy servant, Sir Jno. Wintour, To whose hands Wee do require you to send it within twelue days after you have receiued this Priuy Seale, which, together with the Commissioner’s acquittance, shall be sufficient Warrant unto the Officers of our receipt for the repayment thereof at the time limitted.—Giuen under our Priuy Seale at our Pallace of Westminster.
“Carolus Rex.”
So ran the curious communication put into the hands of Ambrose Powell.
A letter of “Loan by Privy Seal” even more execrable both as to grammar and diction than the documents emanating from Royalty at the present day—and that is admitting much.
Spoke the master of Hollymead, after perusing it:—
“Request for a loan, the King calls this! Beggarly enough in the beginning—a very whine; but at the end more like the demand of a robber!”
“Mr Powell!” cried he who had presented it, his back now up in anger, “though but the messenger of Sir John Wintour, at the same time I’m in the service of the King. And, holding his Majesty’s commission, I cannot allow such talk as yours. It’s almost the same as calling the King a robber!”
“Take it as all the same, if you like, sirrah! And apply it also to Sir John Wintour, your more immediate master. Go back, and say to both how I’ve treated the begging petition—thus!”
And at the word he tore the paper into scraps, flinging them at his feet, as something to be trampled upon.
At this Reginald Trevor became furious; all the more from again seeing two feminine faces in the window above, by their looks both seeming to speak approval of what their father had said and done.
He might have given exhibition of his anger by some act of violence; but just then he saw something else which prompted to prudence, effectually restraining it. This something in the shape of three or four stalwart fellows—stablemen and servants of other sorts belonging to Hollymead House—who, having caught sound of the fracas in front, now appeared coming round from the rear.
No need for Reginald Trevor, noting the scowl upon their faces, to tell him they were foes, and as little to convince him of the small chance he and his varlet would have in an encounter with them. He neither thought of it nor any longer felt inclined to take vengeful action, not even to speaking some strong words of menace that had risen to his lips. Instead, choking them down, and swallowing his chagrin as he best could, he said, in a resigned, humble way,—
“Oh! well, Mr Powell; what you’ve done or intend doing is no affair of mine—specially. As you know, I’m here but in the performance of my duty, which I need not tell you is to me most disagreeable.”
“Very disagreeable, no doubt!” rejoined the master of Hollymead, in a tone of cutting sarcasm; “and being so, the sooner you get through with it the better. I think you’ve made a finish of it now, unless you deem it part of this disagreeable duty to gather up those torn scraps of the King’s letter, and carry them back to the Queen’s obsequious servant, and your master, Sir John.”
In the way of insult, taunt could scarce go farther. And he against whom it was hurled keenly felt it; at the same time felt his own impotence either to resent or reply to it. For the three or four fellows, with black brows, advancing from the rear, had been further reinforced, and now numbered nearly a dozen.
“I bid you good-evening, Mr Powell,” said the emissary, as he turned his horse round, but too glad to get away from that unpleasant spot.
“Oh! good-evening, sir,” returned the master of Hollymead, in a tone of mock politeness; after which he stood watching the ill-received visitor, till he saw him go out through the gates of his park.
Then over Ambrose Powell’s face came a shadow—the shadow of a fear. For he knew he had offended a Royal tyrant, who, though now weaker than he had been through the restraint of a Parliament, might still have strength enough to tear him.
“My dear children,” he said, as he joined them in the withdrawing-room, “the trouble I’ve been long anticipating has come at last. We will have to leave Hollymead, or I must fortify and defend it.”
Chapter Ten.
The Cousins.
The