Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

The Cardiff Times

The copyright status or ownership of this resource is unknown.
Hide Articles List

27 articles on this Page

The Prince's Pearl.

News
Cite
Share

The Prince's Pearl. • m A TALE OF MARSTON MOOR. By J. S. FLETCHER. Author of "When Charles the First was King," Mistress Spitfire," From the Broad Acres," Grand Relations," The Threshing Floor, &c., &c. How Marjorie Summers, the seventeen-year- old daughter of a Yorkshire farmer, saved the life of Prince Rupert of the Rhine, when he fled from the battle of Marston Moor on the night of July 2nd, 1644, and how she there became possessed of a rare pearl, which is a heirloom in her family to this day- To us at the Moat Farm, that day the second of J uly, in the year of our Lord, 1644, had been one of as great anxiety as ever I spent in mv life—that I can say with knowledge, for I shrll be an old woman of three and seventy je us come St. Thomas' Day. To begin with my father was so ailing in his body that he was obliged to take to his bed ere noon, and Martha Thorpe had a sad time with him before he got some ease. My brother Francis had gone away on business into the Westmorland FeDs my younger brother, John, was at the wars fighting, for the King. Therefore, the only man we had about the place was Simon Trippertt. Not a very strong garrison, you will say, for a great rambling house like ours—an old woman of sixty,though hale and strong; a young maiden of seventeen and a man of forty, who, if I must tell the truth of him, was scarce worth his meat at any time. He was the only man we had to live in the house—our other labourers lived in the village some distance off. At nine o'clock that night, my father being then asleep in his chamber upstairs, Martha Thorpe and I were sitting on the lang-settle in the great kitchen, knitting peacefully and diligently, when the door suddenly opened and in came Simon Trippett looking as if he had seen a hundred ghosts. Yet, behind him through the open door, you could see glimpses of as fair a summer's evening as ever was like to make a man's heart strong and glad, but Simon's heart had evidently gone down to his shoes and carried all his strength there. His knees knocked together, his head shook, his fingers could not keep still. What the goodyear cries Martha Thorpe, staring at him as if she, too, had seen a ghost. Is ought the matter, man ?" Simon wiped the sweat from his brow. Matter ?" he said. Matter ? We shall all be murdered." Then, get thy supper and go to bed, and be murdered there," says Martha pointing to his supper, which had been ready for him a good half-hour. 'Tis the best place to die in.' Bed," said Simon, staring about him. There will be no beds for anyone, whether gentle or simple to-night, methinks. We are all to be murdered, or worse." Now may the Lord send thee sense, thou—" began Martha, but I stopped her from further scolding of poor Simon, whose wits, it was easy to see, were all distraught. What is it, Simon t" I said gently. Tell us." Simon fumbled with his cap. "Mistress Marjorie," says he, 'tis this, i' faith. I ha' been to Boroughbridge with the brown mare, and there I did hear that King's men and Parliament men have been gathering 'twixt there and York for days, and to-night they are fighting—I heard the cannon with these ears, as I live, Dame Martha—and there was a man rode post-haste through Borough- bridge while I stood at the blacksmith's shop who had come away from Marston's village at eight of the clock, and said the moor was black with smoke and red with blood, and that every King's man was dead, and the Parliament men were sweeping the land to kill every mother's son of us, and advising all to make for the West Country, so I jumped on the mare's back and rode home." •« Sit down and eat thy supper, man," said Martha. It'll put some heart into thy belly. Art the faintest-hearted poor atomy that ever I made bread for." Now it chanced that while poor Simon was hesitating—and indeed he had drawn nearer to his supper—two gamekeepers who were out on the land near by chanced to discharge their fowling-pieces, <it the sound whereof he uttered t. great cry of T'ucy are at hand—they are at land and lep^: g through the door made off cross the garth without, as fast as his trembl- .1g legs could carry him. The Lord help thee for a poor weak mor- tal said Martha. "And here's a pretty to-do if the master chances to be seized with another of his complaints in the night. Not a man about the place to send for the 'pothecary And—hush In the silence we heard my father's stick that we had left by his bedside, knocking on the floor of his chamber. I warrant me the poor man is took again," Bighed Martha. Going up to the chamber we found that she had guessed rightly-my poor father was once more in pain, and for another hour we were busily engaged in endeavouring to eive him some ease. And, at last, as it neared midnight, he fell again into a restful sleep. It was soon after that, as Martha Thorpe and I tip-toed down the stair, that we heard a low tapping on the door of the stone hall which opened into the apple orchard. II. Now if it had been a great boisterous knock that we heard, such as he knocks who knows that he has a right to admittant e I should not have felt any unusual interest in the sound, but this waS a low, stealthy knocking which told us as plainly as possible that whoever knocked was not minded to attract any great attention. Martha and I looked at each other with the same question in our eyes—could it be my brother Francis, who, returning sooner than we had expected, and knowing that my father was but poorly in health was trying to gain our attention as quietly as possible ? But without putting the question into words we answered it as silently with a shake of the head, for we knew that Francis had his own way of getting into the house through a win- dow. But, who, then, can it be, Martha," said I in a whisper. Who is there would come knocking at the apple-orchard door at this time of night ?" And then a sudden thought came into my head and I gripped Martha Thorpe's arm in a fashion that at any other moment would have made her cry out. Martha If—if it should be John ?—back from the war ? And perhaps hurt—wounded ?" And before she had time to stop me I rushed down the stair to the door and had it open before f had realised the foolishness of what I was doing. Out of the dark blue dusk of the summer midnight came two cloaked fgures who were within the house and had closed and bolted the door before I had realised their presence. I fell back against the wainscotting staring at them. Oh I said. I thought it had been my brother John, home from the wars." One of the men, a great broad-shouldered fel- low, drew out a paper. If this is Master Summers's place, the Moat Farm, mistress," said he. "and wot I will it is, here is a matter of writing from your brother John that should ensure us a welcome. But use speed in reading it for we are pursued." Martha followed me closely down, a candle in her hand. By its light I opened the paper —a rough bit of paper, hastily folded. And the first thing I saw was a faint blood-stain. This is what I read. Dear Sister Marjorie,—I am wounded, not a great deal, but too much to win home. These are dear friends harbour them in the secret chamber, until they can pass on west- ward. Thy brother Jock." I clasped the paper in my hands and gazed imploringly at the man who had delivered it to me. Oh, sir," I said, where is my brother 1" Four miles the other side Borougbbridge. mistress, and in good hands," he answered hastily'. But this secret chamber ? For your brother's sake, hasten Now I must tell you that our house was an ancient one which stood half way 'twixt Boroughbridge and Ripon, in the midst of a somewhat lonely country. I have beard my father say that it was built in the days when Henry the Seventh was King of England, and I never doubted it for it was as old a farmstead as anyone of our parts had ever seen, full of strange nooks and corners in which we children medto playhideand seek. Agreatmoatran all round it, but it had long been dug and could be crossed at several places. Once, my father said, the farmstead had been the Grange of some great house near, but had been sold to his forefathers at the time of the Reformation. And in tht very middle of the house there was a secree chamber—cunningly devised and entered by a way which was hard to discover—wherein they said the priests used to hide. And that was the hiding place in which my brother bade me to hide these men. But there was a tradition in our family that. no member of our household but ourselves should know of It. So I looked at Martha Thorpe—and she knew what I meant. Rest content, Mistress Marjorie," she said, handing me the candle. Put Master John's friends in safe keeping, and I'll to the larder and And meat and drink for them. ru warrant me they'll give no foul looks at a chine of beef and It tankard of ale." That we shall not, mistress said the man who had handed John's letter to me. The other man, who had not spoken since hjs entrance made me a. polite bow, and then favoured Martha with another. He turned to me again. But this secret chamber 1" he said. There was something in *1 voice that was of a vast difference to the -••ice of the other I man. His face I could see nothing of, So wrapped about was it—sav e a pair of burning black eyes, in which there was pride and sor- row. Get the food and drink, Martha," said I, When she had gone, and was safely in the great kitchen, I had the two men into the Secret Chamber very auickly. It was a simple trick—that of making its entrance. Once within, the man who had only spoken once drew a deep breath. He looked round him and after a quick glance at me, threw off his cloak. And I saw then that this was no com- mon man—there was that in his face and eyes which commanded respect and attention. He reminded me of His Sacred Majesty the King, whom my father had carried me into Hipon Market Place to see when he came there in the year 1629. And yet there was a difference —this was not the King. But, girl though I was, knowing little of the world, I felt some strange conviction that this was one of His Majesty's kinsmen. 1 think he saw that conviction in my eyes. For suddenly he turned to the other man, and laughed. Sergeant Bloodyer," said be, r" this young lady hath a pretty discernment, and I would rather throw myself on her mercy, than let her rot under a false impression. Mistress Mar- jorie.your good brother John, Sergeant Blood. yer, and myself chanced, by the fortunes of war, to be thrown into each other's company in the retreat from Marston Moor this even- ing, and your borther was conducting me hither to this very safe retreat, when he was wounded by our pursuers. I am His Majesty's nephew, Prince Rupert." I made him the best courtesy I knew of, trying to ape the fine madam whom I had seen making obeisance to the King in Ripon Mar- ket Place, and he smiled and bowed his head. We are escaping to the West. Mistress Marjorie." said he, and for to-night, or for a few hours at any rate, I must besafeiyhidden. For there are pursuers on the track—they were close upon us when we abandoned our horses in a safe place, and came hither across the meadows. If they track us here, think you can keep the secret of this Secret Chamber safe ?" Unless they pull the whole house down, sir," said I, they'll never find a way in here. Our own servants have never known the secret." The man His Highness had called Sergeant Bloodyer, gave a great sigh of content, and, as if he were suddenly satisfied, dropped into a chair. But he suddenly started up again. Your Highness's pardon." he began. His Highness laughed, and pushed the man back. Then he looked at me with that rare smile of his. He had the darkest eyes of any man I ever chanced across. If we might sup, Mistress Marjorie I" he said. III. When I had carried them meat and drink to the Secret Chamber, and had made them as comfortable as I could for the time they must needs spend there, I went back to Martha Thorpe in the greatkitchen. Andshe, though 'twas summer time, had lighted it fire and was making herself a cup of spiced ale. For indeed," said she, "we are like to have a nice night of it, what with master ill in his bed, poor man, and runaway soldiers a-knock- ing at the door and seeking shelter, and one requires a little of something comfortable to keep up one's heart. And as for that poor body of a Simon Trippett—Lord knows where he may not have got to A likely drownded himself out of fear in the pond, or ran all the way home to his mother, the widow woman of Whixley, poor soul, that has nothing left in the world but him, and But at that moment before Martha Thorpe could say more, there was a stange, scraping sound in one of the great cupboards which stood on either side of the fire-place, and its door opened gently, and out came Simon Trip- pett himself. What the goodger says Martha Thorpe, dropping her cup of spiced aJe on the sanded hearthstone. Ye good-for-nothing fly- by- night How came you into that cupboard ?" Simon Trippett came tip-toeing up to me, and put his finger to his lips. He looked at Martha and then at me, and he smiled at us in a fashion that made me wonder. Hist says he. I'm neither such a fool nor a simpleton as you seem to think, Mistress Martha. I can hear a thing and see a thing, and keep my own counsel about it—if I am paid to do so." What are you talking about, Simon ?" says I, with some impatience, for I could not make out his meaning. What is all this you prate of ?" Prate here—prate there," says Simon," well I wot that him they call Rupert of the Rhine is in this house. And being marrow to the King's Majesty, a' must carry a mort of money on him." Here was pretty news. And young as I was I saw that the only thing to do was to exer- cise one's woman's wit on Simon Trippett. Money," says I, is an excellent thing to have, Simon, isn't it ?" He rubbed his hands 'and grinned, like the knavish fool he was. How shall we get it ?" said I. What the-" began Martha Thorpe. But I gave her a sharp glance, and she suddenly saw what I was after. What have you got to say, Simon ?" says I, speaking to him as if he had been the King's own man of law. Why," says he whispering his words, 'tis this way. Mistress Marjorie. When I ran away, afrightened by the sound of musketry, and wandered me down to the highway, where the four cross-roads are, and there, hidden in the hedge-bottom I hears two horsemen come up, and in Dead Man's Copse there, they did bestow their horses, and I heard them talk of the Moat Farm, and one man called the other Highness. And upon that up comes other men with a great jingling of harness, and clank and clink of swords and spurs, and they pulls together at the cross-roads, and there is talk of Prince Rupert, and which way has he gone, and shall they take this road or that, and this, that, and the other, and all the time there was His Royalty ahiding in the Copse with t'other man, and me asitting in the hedge bottom. And in the end one lot goes on Riponwards and one turns back to Borough- bridge, and the man that seemed to master the lot said, Search every house in the neighbourhood," says he. Ha-ha-ha-ha 'Aye!' says I, but though parson says Seek and ye shall find.' it will take some seeking before ye find our secret chamber.' Said I not well, Mistress Marjorie ?" Excellent well, Simon," sajd 1. And then——?" Then I waits until the pursuers had gone, after hearing them say grumblingly that 'twas poor work hunting princes. And then I fol- lowed the Prince here and watched you let him in by the apple-orchard door, and well I wot you have him in the secret chamber. And being marrow to the King he must, as I say, carry a mort of money on him, Mistress Marjorie I glanced at Martha Thorpe. Her eyes were like saucers—her mouth was wide open. A matter of ten golden guineas now, Mis- tress Marjorie said Simon, his face working with excitement. Ten golden guineas not to ride down to Boroughbridge and bring the pursuers on him I could have told them there and then, bat, thinks I, a King's man is more likely to have money about him than a Parliament man, and But if he will not give you the golden guineas, Simon 1" said I. "I can ride down to the troopers at Borough- bridge in ten minutes," says he, and I saw he meant it. Then his fingers began to twitch again. Ten golden guineas—a mort o' money he says. And get some out of him for yourself, Mistress Marjorie. A prince—'tis not oft a prince rides our way." The poor soul says Martha Thorpe under her breath. What to do ? That was what I was asking myself. Here was this dolt of a Simon Trip- pett thrown clean out of his simple mind And he was a strong man and we were two weak women. A mort of money—a mort of money J" he repeated. They do say the King's own self always carries a hundred guineas in his breeches pocket. Ten golden guineas, mis- tress At that moment came a loud knock on the door of the great kitchen. Simon Trippett leapt as if he had this time been shot instead of hearing shots fired- He threw up his arms. The troopers he screamed. The troopers I' faith, Mistress Marjorie, 'twas not I that told them—'twas not I—'twas not 1- But I had him by the shoulder then and was dragging him off. Quick, Simon, quick I said. This way —this way. You shall have your ten golden guineas but come with me—quick I:> And for the first time in the history of our family I broke the tradition of the secret chamber. For I took Simon Trippett into it. Prince Rupert and Sergeant Bloodyer were at their supper. I pushed Simon Trippett into the very midst of them, head and crop. Keep him quiet," said 1. Keep him quiet—if you have to kill him. For now's the time And then I rushed back to the great kitchen like a mad thing. IV. But I was quiet, and staid, and gentle enough—a much wronged, disturbed maiden, when, a few minutes later, after repeated knockings, and timid demands on my part to know who knocked, and I opened the door. In the yellow light of the candle which I held above my head I saw a ring of men's faces. They were hard enough, and stern enough but as I looked from one to the other the hardness and the sterness died away. What is it, gentlemen said I. I pray you, make no noise or disturbance—my father is greviously sick, and there are but myself and oUt serving-woman, Martha, in the house. One of the men came within. He glanced around him then looked back at me. You have had no men asking refuge here to-night, young mistress ?" he said. He looked at me with straight eyes. I looked back at him with a direct straightness. And I told the '> be '.t I ver "old in my liff»' No TIe uncovered his head and withdrew. But another nlan spoke. Let us see the sick father—it may all be a trick." Then the first man spoke again, pointing to a younger man. Cornet Trimblethwaite He turned to me with a bow. Let this gentleman see your father, mis- tress," he said. I took Cornet Trimblethwaite up the stair— every step we took I took on tip-toe, turning, with a finger on lip, to caution him to silence. He was a docile and sympathetic young gentle- man. Within my father's chamber I held the candle over my father's bed. Thank God— he was asleep. There, sir I whispered. He bowed his head and glanced at me as he did it. Then we tip-toed out of the chamber and down the stairs. And tip-toed across the stone floor of the great kitchen. The man who had first entered cane forward. He looked at Cornet Trimblethwaite inquiringly, and then at me. Yes, sir," said Cornet Trimblethwaite. And in another minute Martha Thorpe and I had fastened the door upon them. V. An hour before the dawn on that soft summer night I went to the secret chamber. And there was a sight that had surely moved Old Noll himself to laughter. For the Prince and Sergeant Bloover, having eaten and drunk their full, had apparently invited Simon Trippett to satisfy whatever appetite he had, and this he had evidently done so heartily that he had fallen asleep in an easy chair be- tween them and lay there, hands folded across his stomach, and legs stretched out, snoring nough to wake the dead. And on one side at Prince Rupert, and on the other the Ser- geant, both silent. They sprang to their feet as I entered. And in a word or two I told them all. And if your Highness is minded to make a clear escape now," I said. I can show you a way through our stack-garth and across the fields that will bring you to your horses—if they still be there—or to Ripon, with a full assurance that none shall see you." Mistress Marjorie," said the Prince, taking my hand, I am your debtor for life for I was hard pressed, and the few hours' respite has saved me. You will keep this little trinket in remembrance of to-night^—and of me ?" And therewith he put into my hand this pearl, set, you see, in fine gold, which we shall keep in the family as long as the family lasts. And it will be no shame to you, either," he said, that a Prince has kissed your cheek —and your lips—for gratitude." But, sir," says I, their kindness being over, what am I to do with him ?" And I pointed to Simon Trippett, still fast asleep and snoring. Let me run him through with my sword!" growled Sergeant Bloodyer. 'Tis all he is worth." But Prince Rupert laughed and put a purse in mv hand. You will easily buy his silence, Mistress Marjorie," he said- Tell him he had a rare dream and had doubtless drunk too much strong ale. And now, Sergeant,——" I showed them the way I had spoken of. There was a faint glow of colour in the eastern sky across tlw gables of the barns and grana- ries, and a cock crowed from the farmyard. They went away with a purpling morning shadow, I watching them until I could not tell which was shadow and which was man. And then I hurried back into the house and kissed the bloodstain on my poor Jock's hastily-scrawled letter.

CARDIFF I.L.P. MEETING.

ALLEGED POLICE PERJURY.

WHERE STORMS OCCUR.

'----I GLUT OF PLUMS.

FALL DOWN COLLIERY SHAFT.

The National Eisteddfod.

CARMARTHENSHIRE HUNT STEEPLECHASES.

ANTI-OPIUM MIXTURE.

REFEREE'S RULING.

STOWAWAYS' PLIGHT.

THE MOST DRUNKEN COUNTY.

-----------STRANGE BRIDGE…

[No title]

May Be " Mighty Ugly."

- OLD AGE PENSIONS.

GIRL TELEGRAPHISTS AND SUICIDE.

Non-Unionists to Go.

HARD TO UNDERSTAND.

COLOSSAL CATERING.

REVIVAL OF EARRINGS.

Easier Divorce.

MOTOR CAR FOR THE QUEEN.

- 816 JEWEL ROBBERY.

GUARDING THE CZAR.

--UNDER A TRAIN.

[No title]