The Northern Iron Part 28

"Maybe the young cub would like to see his la.s.s before he leaves her.

Her face is a bonny one for kissing now."

Neal shuddered, and turned sick. Beyond the hedge in the trampled gra.s.s, among the meadow sweet and the loose strife, lay unnamable horror.

He shut his eyes, dreading lest he should be forced to look, but the suggestion was too brutal even for Captain Twinely.

"Shut your devil's mouth," he said to the sergeant, "isn't what you've done enough for you? If the croppy that came on you at Donegore had broken your skull, instead of just cracking it, he would have rid the country of the biggest blackguard in it."

"Thon's fine talk," growled the sergeant, "but who bid us strip the wench? Is b.l.o.o.d.y Twinely turning chicken-hearted at the last?"

Captain Twinely did not choose to hear the sergeant's words, or the grumbling of the men around him. He put his troop in motion, and trotted off towards Antrim. Neal, running and stumbling, dazed, utterly weary and dejected, was dragged with them.

General Clavering sat at dinner in a private room of the Ma.s.sereene Arms. He had with him Colonel Durham and several of the officers who had commanded troops during the battle. The landlord, obsequious and frightened, waited on the party himself. He had the best food he could get on the table, and the best wine from the cellar was ready for his guests. In the public room a larger party was gathered--yeomanry officers, captains, and lieutenants of the royal troops, and a few of the country squires who had ridden into the town after the fighting was over. Lord Dunseveric and Maurice were in the room where they had slept the night before. Lord O'Neill lay on one of two beds. Life was in him still, but he was mortally wounded. Lord Dunseveric sat beside him, holding his hand, and speaking to him occasionally. Maurice was at the window. The laughter of the party in the room below reached them, and the noisy talk of the troops who thronged the streets. Jests, curses, s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, and calls for wine mingled with the groans which his extreme pain wrung from the wounded man and the solemn, quiet words about strength and courage which Lord Dunseveric spoke.

A party of hors.e.m.e.n clattered up the street, and halted at the inn door. They had a prisoner with them--a wretched-looking man, with torn clothes, a bruised, b.l.o.o.d.y face, and hair matted with sweat and grime.

But Maurice recognised him. It was Neal Ward. He turned to his father.

"A company of yeomen has just marched in and they have Neal Ward with them. Their officer, I think it was that blackguard Twinely, has asked for General Clavering, and entered the inn."

"Very well, Maurice." Lord Dunseveric turned to the wounded man. "I must leave you for a few minutes, my friend; keep quiet and be brave. I shall be back again. Maurice will stay with you, and get you anything you want."

"Where are you going, Eustace?"

"I'm going to the general, to this Clavering man. He has a prisoner now whom I want to help if I can--the young man I told you about, who saved me from being piked in the street to-day. I would to G.o.d he could have saved you, too."

"That's past praying for now," said Lord O'Neill, "but you're right, Eustace, you're right. Save him from the hangman if you can. There's been blood enough shed to-day--Irish blood, Irish blood. There should be no more of it."

Lord Dunseveric entered the room where General Clavering and his officers sat at dinner. Captain Twinely stood at the end of the table, and Lord Dunseveric heard the orders he received.

"Put him into the market-house to-night. I'll hang that fellow in the morning, whatever I do with the rest."

"The market-house is full, sir," said Captain Twinely, "the officer in command says he can receive no more prisoners."

"d.a.m.n it, man, shut him up somewhere else, then, but don't stand there talking to me and interrupting my dinner. Here, landlord, have you an empty cellar?"

"Your wors.h.i.+p, my lord general, there's only the wine cellar; but it's very nigh on empty now."

A shout of laughter greeted the remark.

"Fetch out the rest of the wine that's in it," said the general, "we'll make a clean sweep of it. Or, stay, leave the poor devil one bottle of decent claret. He's to be hanged tomorrow morning. He may have a sup of comfort to-night."

Captain Twinely saluted and withdrew.

"General Clavering," said Lord Dunseveric, "I ask you to spare this young man's life. I will make myself personally responsible for his safe keeping, and undertake to send him out of the country at the first opportunity."

"It can't be done, Lord Dunseveric. I am sorry to disoblige in a small matter, but it can't be done."

"I ask it as a matter of justice," said Lord Dunseveric. "The man saved my life and my son's life to-day in the street at the risk of his own.

He deserves to be spared."

"I've given my answer."

Lord Dunseveric hesitated. For a moment it seemed as if he were about to turn and leave the room. Then, with an evident effort, he spoke again.

"I ask this man's life as a personal favour. I am not one who begs often from the Government, or who asks favours easily, but I ask this."

"Anything else, my lord, anything in reason, but this I will not grant.

This young man has a bad record--a d.a.m.ned bad record. He was mixed up with the hanging of a yeoman in the north------"

"He was not," said Lord Dunseveric. "I hanged that man."

"You hanged him," said General Clavering, Angrily, "and yet you come here asking favours of me. But there's more, plenty more, against this Neal Ward. He tried to choke a dragoon in the street of Belfast, he took part in a daring capture of some ammunition for the rebels' use, he helped to murder a loyal man at Donegore last night, he was in arms to-day. There's not half a dozen deserve hanging more richly than he does, and hanged he'll be. Never you fret yourself about him, Lord Dunseveric; sit down here and drink a gla.s.s with us. We're going to make a night of it."

"I beg leave to decline your invitation," said Lord Dunseveric, stiffly.

"I have asked for mercy and been refused. I have asked for justice and been refused. I have begged a personal favour and been refused. I bid you good night. If I thought you and your companions were capable of any feeling of common decency I should request you to restrain your mirth a little out of respect to Lord O'Neill, who lies dying within two doors of you. But I should probably only provide you with fresh food for your laughter if I did."

He bowed coldly, and left the room. The company sat silent for a minute or two. No man cared to look at his neighbour. Lord Dunseveric's last words had been unpleasant ones to listen to. Besides, Lord Dunseveric was a man of some importance. It is impossible to tell how far the influence of a great territorial lord may stretch. Promotion is sometimes stopped mysteriously by influences which are not very easily baffled. There were colonels at the table who wanted to be generals, and generals who wanted commands. There was a feeling that it might have been wiser to speak more civilly to Lord Dunseveric.

General Clavering himself broke the silence.

"These d.a.m.ned Irishmen are all rebels at heart," he said. "The gentry want their combs cut as much as the croppies. I'm not going to be insulted at my own table by a cursed Irishman even if he does put lord before his name. I'll write a report about this Lord Dunseveric. I'll make him smart with a sharp fine. You heard him boast, gentlemen, boast before a company of men holding His Majesty's commission, that he hanged a soldier in discharge of his duty."

"A yeoman," said Colonel Durham, "and some of the yeomen deserve hanging."

"G.o.d Almighty!" said Clavering, "are you turning rebel, too? I don't care whether a man deserves it or not, I'll not have the king's troops hanged by filthy Irishmen."

He looked round the table for applause. He got none. General Clavering had boasted too loudly--had gone too far. It was well known that in the existing state of Irish politics Pitt and the English ministers would probably prefer cas.h.i.+ering General Clavering to offending a man like Lord Dunseveric. There were plenty of generals to be got. A great Irish landowner, a man of ability, a peer who commanded the respect of all cla.s.ses in the country, might be a serious hindrance to the carrying out of certain carefully-matured schemes. General Clavering attempted to laugh the matter off.

"But this," he said, "is over wine. Men say more than they mean when they are engaged in emptying mine host's cellar. Come, gentlemen, another bottle. We must hang the d.a.m.ned young rebel, but we'll do him this much grace--we'll drink a happy despatch to him, a short wriggle at the end of his rope, and a pleasant journey to a warmer climate."

Lord Dunseveric returned to his room and sat down again beside Lord O'Neill. He said nothing to Maurice.

"Well," said Lord O'Neill, "will they spare him?"

"No."

"More blood, more blood. G.o.d help us, Eustace, our lot is cast in evil times. Would it be any use if I spoke, if I wrote! I think I could manage to write."

"None, my friend, none. Keep quiet, you have enough to bear without taking my troubles and my friend's troubles on your shoulders."

For a long time there was silence in the room, broken only by an occasional groan from the wounded man and a word or two murmured low by Lord Dunseveric. Maurice took his place at the window again. He understood that his father's intercession for Neal had failed, but he was not hopeless. He did not know what was to be said or done next, but he waited confidently. It was not often that Lord Dunseveric was turned back from anything he set his hand to do. It was likely that if he wanted Neal Ward's release the release would be accomplished whatever General Clavering might think or say.

The evening darkened slowly. Lord O'Neill dropped into an uneasy dose.

Lord Dunseveric rose, and crossed the room to Maurice.

"You heard what I said, son? They are to hang Neal Ward to-morrow."

Maurice nodded.

"I can do no more. Besides, I am tired. I want to rest."