Adventure stories; England -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction; Irish -- England -- Fiction
He now got frightened and would have shut the door, but I gently
pushed him aside. I heard the tramp of the men, and, what was more,
the singing of a sea song, for they were nearing the end of their walk
and thinking that something else would soon pass their lips besides
the tune. The old man was somewhat reassured when he saw the priest
come in; but dismay and terror took hold of him when the nine men with
their blunderbusses and their swords came singing around a corner of
the house and drew up in front of it. By and by the carts came
creaking along, and then every man turned to and brought the
provisions inside of the house and piled them up in the kitchen in an
orderly way, while the old man, his wife, the wench, and the two
gardeners stood looking on with growing signs of panic upon them.
"Now, my ancient caretaker," said I to the old man, in the kindest
tones I could bring to my lips, so as not to frighten him more than
was already the case, "what is the name of that little village over
yonder?" and I pointed toward the west, where, on the top of a hill,
appeared a church and a few houses.
"That, sir," he said, with his lips trembling, "is the village of
Brede."
"Is there any decent place there where you five people can get
lodging; for you see that this house is now filled with men of war,
and so men of peace should be elsewhere? Would they take you in over
at the village?"
"Yes, sir, it is like they would."
"Very well. Here is three guineas to divide among you, and in a week
or thereabouts you will be back in your own place, so don't think
disaster has fallen on you."
The old man took the money, but seemed in a strange state of hesitancy
about leaving.
"You will be unhappy here," I said, "for there will be gun-firing and
sword-playing. Although I may not look it, I am the most bloodthirsty
swordsman in England, with a mighty uncertain temper on me at times.
So be off, the five of you!"
"But who is to be here to receive the family?" he asked.
"What family?"
"Sir, we had word last night that the Earl of Westport and his
following would come to this house to-day at two of the clock, and we
have much ado preparing for them; for the messenger said that he was
bringing many men with him. I thought at first that you were the men,
or I would not have let you in."
"Now the Saints preserve us," cried I, "they'll be on us before we get
the windows barricaded. Tom Peel," I shouted, "set your men to prepare
the defence at once, and you'll have only a few hours to do it in.
Come, old man, take your wife and your gardeners, and get away."
"But the family, sir, the family," cried the old man, unable to
understand that they should not be treated with the utmost respect.
"I will receive the family. What is that big house over there in the
village?"
"The Manor House, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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