Guy Fawkes (Historical Novel) - William Harrison Ainsworth

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a hollow noise was heard overhead, which gradually increased in loudness, until it appeared as if the walls were tumbling about their ears.

      “The spirits are at hand!” cried Dee. “Do not look behind you, or they will tear you in pieces.”

      As he spoke, a horrible din was heard, as of mingled howling, shrieking, and laughter. It was succeeded by a low faint strain of music, which gradually died away, and then all was silent.

      “All is prepared,” cried Dee. “Now, what would you behold?”

      “The progress of the great enterprise,” replied Fawkes.

      Doctor Dee waved his wand. The curtains slowly unfolded, and Guy Fawkes perceived as in a glass a group of dark figures; amongst which he noticed one in all respects resembling himself. A priest was apparently proposing an oath, which the others were uttering.

      “Do you recognise them?” said Doctor Dee.

      “Perfectly,” replied Fawkes.

      “Look again,” said Dee.

      As he spoke the figures melted away, and a new scene was presented on the glass. It was a gloomy vault, filled with barrels, partly covered with fagots and billets of wood.

      “Have you seen enough?” demanded Dee.

      “No,” replied Fawkes, firmly. “I have seen what is past. I would behold that which is to come.”

      “Look again, then,” rejoined the Doctor, waving his wand.

      For an instant the glass was darkened, and nothing could be discerned except the lurid flame and thick smoke arising from the brasier. The next moment, an icy chill shot through the frame of Guy Fawkes as he beheld a throng of skeletons arranged before him. The bony fingers of the foremost of the grisly assemblage were pointed towards an indistinct object at its feet. As this object gradually became more defined, Guy Fawkes perceived that it was a figure resembling himself, stretched upon the wheel, and writhing in the agonies of torture.

      He uttered an exclamation of terror, and the curtains were instantly closed.

      Half an hour afterwards, Guy Fawkes quitted the College, and returned to the Seven Stars.

      CHAPTER IX.

       THE PRISON ON SALFORD BRIDGE.

       Table of Contents

      On the following morning, Guy Fawkes had a long and private conference with Father Oldcorne. The priest appeared greatly troubled by the communication made to him, but he said nothing, and was for some time lost in reflection, and evidently weighing within himself what course it would be best to pursue. His uneasiness was not without effect on Viviana Radcliffe, and she ventured at last to inquire whether he apprehended any new danger.

      “I scarcely know what I apprehend, dear daughter,” he answered. “But circumstances have occurred which render it impossible we can remain longer in our present asylum with safety. We must quit it at nightfall.”

      “Is our retreat then discovered?” inquired Viviana, in alarm.

      “Not as yet, I trust,” replied Oldcorne; “but I have just ascertained from a messenger that the pursuivant, who, we thought, had departed for Chester, is still lingering within the town. He has offered a large reward for my apprehension, and having traced us to Manchester, declares he will leave no house unsearched till he finds us. He has got together a fresh band of soldiers, and is now visiting every place he thinks likely to afford us shelter.”

      “If this is the case,” rejoined Viviana, “why remain here a single moment? Let us fly at once.”

      “That would avail nothing,—or rather, it would expose us to fresh risk, dear daughter,” replied Oldcorne. “Every approach to the town is guarded, and soldiers are posted at the corners of the streets, who stop and examine each suspected person.”

      “Heaven protect us!” exclaimed Viviana.

      “But this is not all,” continued the priest. “By some inexplicable and mysterious means, the designs of certain of the most assured friends of the catholic cause have come to the knowledge of our enemies, and the lives and safeties of many worthy men will be endangered: amongst others, that of your father.”

      “You terrify me!” cried Viviana.

      “The rack shall force nothing from me, father,” said Fawkes, sternly.

      “Nor from me, my son,” rejoined Oldcorne. “I have that within me which will enable me to sustain the bitterest agonies that the persecutors of our Church can inflict.”

      “Nor shall it force aught from me,” added Viviana. “For, though you have trusted me with nothing that can implicate others, I plainly perceive some plot is in agitation for the restoration of our religion, and I more than suspect Mr. Catesby is its chief contriver.”

      “Daughter!” exclaimed Oldcorne, uneasily.

      “Fear nothing, father,” she rejoined. “As I have said, the rack shall not force me to betray you. Neither should it keep me silent when I feel that my counsel—such as it is—may avail you. The course you are pursuing is a dangerous and fatal one; dangerous to yourselves, and fatal to the cause you would serve. Do not deceive yourselves. You are struggling hopelessly and unrighteously, and Heaven will never assist an undertaking which has its aim in the terrible waste of life you meditate.”

      Father Oldcorne made no reply, but walked apart with Guy Fawkes; and Viviana abandoned herself to sorrowful reflection.

      Shortly after this, the door was suddenly thrown open, and Humphrey Chetham rushed into the room. His looks were full of apprehension, and Viviana was at no loss to perceive that some calamity was at hand.

      “What is the matter?” she cried, rising.

      “The pursuivant and his men are below,” he replied. “They are interrogating the hostess, and are about to search the house. I managed to pass them unperceived.”

      “We will resist them to the last,” said Guy Fawkes, drawing a petronel.

      “Resistance will be in vain,” rejoined Humphrey Chetham. “They more than treble our number.”

      “Is there no means of escape?” asked Viviana.

      “None whatever,” replied Chetham. “I hear them on the stairs. The terrified hostess has not dared to deny you, and is conducting them hither.”

      “Stand back!” cried Guy Fawkes, striding towards the door, “and let me alone confront them. That accursed pursuivant has escaped me once. But he shall not do so a second time.”

      “My son,” said Oldcorne, advancing towards him; “preserve yourself, if possible. Your life is of consequence to the great cause. Think not of us—think not of revenging yourself upon this caitiff. But think of the high destiny for which you are reserved. That window offers a means of retreat. Avail yourself of it. Fly!—Fly!”

      “Ay, fly!” repeated Viviana. “And you, Humphrey Chetham,—your presence here can do no good. Quick!—they come!”

      “Nothing should induce me to quit you at such a moment, Viviana," replied Chetham, “but the conviction that I may be able to liberate you, should these miscreants convey you to prison.”

      “Fly!—fly, my son,” cried Oldcorne. “They are at the door.”

      Thus urged, Guy Fawkes reluctantly yielded to Oldcorne's entreaties and sprang through the window. He was followed by Chetham. Viviana darted to the casement, and saw that they had alighted in safety on the ground, and were flying swiftly up Shude Hill. Meanwhile, the pursuivant had reached the door, which Chetham had taken the precaution to fasten, and was trying to burst it open. The bolts offered but a feeble resistance to his fury, and the next moment he dashed into the room, at the head

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