There was no letting “I dare not wait upon I would” with this Roundhead warrior; and no sooner had he assumed the command than he announced his intention of attacking the house with mortar and cannon. The Countess was however, permitted the alternative of “giving up her house, garrison, arms and ammunition next day before two o’clock in the afternoon.” She was in the courtyard when the drummer who brought the summons presented himself at the gates. She took the letter, and, having glanced at it, said to the Parliamentarian: “You deserve to hang at these gates. But you are only the foolish tool of a traitor’s vanity. Therefore convey this answer to Rigby,” and she tore the paper in two. “Tell this insolent rebel that he will have neither our persons, goods, nor house. When our resources are exhausted, we shall find a fire more supportable than Rigby’s. If God’s providence does not come to the rescue, my house and my possessions shall burn before his eyes; and I, my children and my soldiers, sooner than fall into his hands, will seal our religion and our loyalty in the flames.” She spoke in a loud, firm, and resonant voice. Her soldiers pressed round her. “We will die for his Majesty, and for our honour!” shouted they with one accord. The drummer departed from Lathom to cries of “Long live the King!” The mortar to which the Parliamentarians pinned their faith was indeed a terrible engine of destruction. It was a monster which vomited forth flame and bombs with somewhat impartial energy to both besieged and besiegers. It was invaluable, of course, to the Parliamentarians; but it refused to be humoured, and while serving their turn upon their enemies, had done themselves no small damage. It might be, and was, the terror of the garrison; but it was a dangerous friend to those whom it served. It was capable of throwing stones thirteen inches in diameter and of eighty pounds’ weight, and also grenadoes, balls of iron filled with powder and lighted by fuses. On Easter Monday it lodged a twenty-four pounder in the Countess’s chamber in the Eagle Tower, where she was having breakfast with her two daughters. “The little ladies,” says the chronicler, “had stomach to digest cannon; but the strongest soldiers had no hearts for grenadoes, and might not they at once free themselves from the continual expectation of death?” At all events they determined to try; and at four o’clock next morning a small contingent of twenty-four soldiers stole noiselessly forth, creeping under the shadow of the cannon until they reached the little fort which commanded the mansion. At the same time Captain Fox, issuing by another door, was in possession of the earthworks which guarded the mortar. To reach this point, a deep ditch and a high rampart had to be scaled. The first care of the two captains was to mount the ditch, while the soldiers were prepared to defend themselves against the enemy, if it should try to regain the position.