Judge then of the Devil"s surprise when the Longdendale doctor offered to race him. (It should be stated that the doctor had ridden to the place of meeting on a horse which was bred in Longdendale, though the trainer"s name has unfortunately been lost).
At first Satan laughed at the impudence of the proposition, but after some little haggling, he at length agreed to the doctor"s conditions.
The conditions were that the Devil was to give the doctor a good start, and that the latter was to have his freedom if he won the race.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "A RUNNING STREAM."]
"I am unduly favouring thee," said the Devil; "I do not as a rule allow my clients a single minute"s grace when payment falls due, and I do not reckon to let them bargain as to other means of payment. But for all that, I do not see why I should not make merry at thy expense.
I am not altogether as black as I am painted. And if it will give thee any comfort to imagine thou hast a chance of escape--why then get on with the race."
Acting upon the above agreement, a start was made, and the course was along the road now known as Doctor"s Gate. The contest was most exciting. Prose can scarcely do justice to the occasion, but we will endeavour to give some account of the strange contest. The Devil good naturedly conceded a big start, for, of course, he felt quite certain of reaching the winning post first, and when the signal was given he went full cry in pursuit. Away the coursers sped like wind, the doctor riding with grim countenance, and teeth firmly set, ever and anon casting an anxious look behind him, and now looking as anxiously in front. Meanwhile the Devil rode in approved hunting fashion, with many a loud halloa, which made the very mountains shake as though a thunder peal was sounding. His horns projected from his head, his cloven feet did away with the necessity for stirrups, and he lashed the flanks of his coal black charger with his tail in lieu of a whip.
Slowly but surely the Devil gained upon the doctor. Inch by inch the black steed drew nearer the Longdendale hack, until at length the Devil, by leaning over his horse"s head, was able to grasp the tail of the doctor"s horse. With a loud burst of fiendish laughter, Satan began to twist the tail of the Longdendale horse, until at last the poor beast screamed with pain and terror. This greatly amused the Devil, who twisted the tail all the harder, so that the doctor"s horse, goaded almost to madness, plunged along faster than before, and in its fright took a mighty leap into a running stream which dashed brawlingly across the path. All too late Satan saw his danger; he held on to the beast"s tail and tugged with all his might. For a second, the contest hung in the balance, and the result seemed doubtful. But luckily for the doctor, the tail of the horse came off--torn out by the roots--the Devil"s steed fell back on its haunches, and the doctor"s charger plunged safely through the flood, and gained the opposite bank. Then the doctor gave a great shout of triumph, for according to the laws of sorcery--laws which even the Devil must obey--when once the pursued had crossed a running stream, the powers of evil lost all dominion over him.
Thus by a combination of skill, cunning, and good luck, the Longdendale doctor outwitted the Devil. Some profane mortals state that when he found himself victorious, the doctor turned towards the Devil, and put his fingers to his nose as a sign of victory, while the Devil, sorely disgusted, rode off to h.e.l.l with his tail between his legs, vowing that the mortals of Longdendale would have no place to go to when they died, for they were too bad for heaven, and too clever for h.e.l.l.
AUTHOR"S NOTE.
The road known as "The Doctor"s Gate"--mentioned in the above story--runs across a portion of Longdendale. In reality it is part of the old Roman road from Melandra Castle, Gamesley, to the Roman station at Brough in the Vale of Hope.
With reference to the main incident of this legend, the following quotation from Sir Walter Scott will be found of interest:--"If you can interpose a brook between you and witches, spectres, or fiends, you are in perfect safety."
No date is attached to the legend.
XVIII.
The Writing on the Window Pane.
It was an evening in the glad month of June, of the year 1644, and the children of Longdendale were playing games on the smooth green plots before the cottage doors. At one spot not far distant from the site of the old Roman station, Melandra Castle, a group of merry little ones, lads and la.s.sies, were swinging round hand in hand, their sweet young voices chanting an old-time rhyme.
Suddenly there was a shrill cry from one of the girls, and following the direction of her gaze, the children beheld a sight that at first set their young hearts beating sharp with fear. A company of hors.e.m.e.n, wearing wide-brimmed and much befeathered hats, with long hair hanging about their shoulders, rode jauntily past the greensward in the direction of the Carr House Farm. The hors.e.m.e.n were well armed, carrying swords and pistols, and bright steel armour shone dazzling upon their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. As the cavalcade moved on, the jingling of stirrups, bits, and harness, made a merry music that was well adapted to the martial scene. The children, though startled at first, soon recovered from their fright, and ran gaily to see the squadron pa.s.s by. Curiosity, in their case, got the mastery of fear. For those were what the historians term "stirring times,"--days of war and tumult, of peril and death, of bloodshed and ruin, of suffering and horror; and well the children of Longdendale knew that the quarrel between King Charles and his Parliament had already made sad hearts and weeping eyes, widowed women and orphaned children, even in their own neighbourhood. But the great battles of which they had heard had all been fought at a distance, and, as is well known in the case of war, "distance lends enchantment to the view." There was something wildly romantic and fascinating to the minds of the children in those great events which were daily transpiring, and about the men who fought in the battles; and so, on the June evening of this story, the children flocked curiously about the hors.e.m.e.n, who were a band of gentlemen cavaliers on their way from Lancashire to join the army of King Charles at York.
Accompanied by the children, the cavaliers rode up to the Carr House Farm, and, at a sign from their leader, dismounted, and, without troubling to ask consent, proceeded to stable their horses, and take possession of the best rooms for their own accommodation. It was not altogether a good mannered proceeding, but then, the people who lived in those days when war was rife, grew accustomed to such violations of the rights of property, and submitted to the indignities with as good a grace as they could a.s.sume. They knew full well that if they had not placed upon the table of their very best, the soldiers would have raided the larder and confiscated all the contents. So, in the language of modern days, "they made the best of a bad job."
One stalwart trooper, throwing the reins of his steed to a comrade, was the first to stride through the farm door, and, as he came, the farmer went bareheaded to greet him,--not altogether without some qualms of doubt and fear.
"Come, good man," cried the trooper merrily, "show me the way to thy best room, for our leader, Captain Oldfield, rests there this night.
And if thou art of the King"s party, set thy wife to work at once, and prepare him a feast right merrily, or if thou be"st of the roundhead faction, why, do the same unwillingly, and be d.a.m.ned to thee."
History does not tell us which side of the quarrel the farmer favoured, and it does not really matter which, for in any case a visit from the Royalists would be alike unwelcome. If he was a Roundhead, then, as a matter of course, the billeting of a force of Cavaliers was bound to be distasteful; if he were loyal to the King, then against the satisfaction of providing for the King"s troops, must be set the knowledge that the next force of Roundheads that came into the neighbourhood would pay him a visit and demand satisfaction for the favour he had shown their enemies. The farmer made a discreet remark.
"If ye are true men, ye are welcome to such hospitality as I can afford."
And then he and his servants set about doing with as good a grace as possible that which they knew themselves compelled to do.
But although the soldiers might be unwelcome guests to the farmer and his wife, their coming was by no means received with a bad grace by other members of the household. The maids, in particular, seemed quite glad as they beheld the Cavaliers enter the yard, and what was more remarkable, they made scarcely any attempt to prevent the arms of the fighting-men stealing around their trim-set waists with the coming of the gloaming and the shadows. There were shy giggles and blushes and many a stolen kiss in and about the Carr House Farm that night, before the bugle sounded the hour of rest.
When all the men were inside save the sentries, whose duty it was to give notice of the approach of Roundheads--if any such rebel gentlemen should chance to put in an appearance--the officer in command gathered his soldiers around the oak table in the best room, and seated himself at their head. Captain Oldfield, of Spalding (for such was his name and t.i.tle), first addressed the company, which included the master and mistress of the farm, and all the pretty maids whose lips so readily lent themselves to a soldier"s kiss. He reminded his hearers of the great sin of fighting against the "Lord"s anointed."
"For," said he, "did not G.o.d appoint kings and princes and governors, and if they are not to rule their people, wherefore are they created?
Therefore it stands to reason that they who oppose the will, and set themselves in array against the authority of good King Charles, are fighting against G.o.d, and are likely ere long to suffer grievously from the displeasure of G.o.d. And I would especially urge upon ye good people of Longdendale that ye remain loyal and true to His Majesty, and have nothing to do with traitorous rebels who are prompted of the devil. So shall ye escape a felon"s death here and d.a.m.nation hereafter."
Then, drawing from his finger a ring set with a large diamond, he continued--
"My stay will doubtless be short, yet would I leave behind a loyal sentiment which shall serve to remind you of your duty toward your royal master."
Whereupon he advanced to the window, and on one of the little diamond-shaped panes, he scratched the following words in the Latin tongue:--
"May King Charles live and conquer.
Thus prays John Oldfield, of Spalding, 1644."
The task of writing being ended, he then called on all present to fill their cups with the farmer"s best country wine, and drink deep to the sentiment which he had just inscribed.
The men filled their cups and drained them to the dregs, after which they cheered for King Charles. And then the band broke up, the troopers seeking their hard couches, while Captain Oldfield retired to his room with the officers, to discuss their future movements, and to question and gossip with the farmer and such of the loyal gentry of the neighbourhood as had come to greet him on hearing of the arrival of his force.
"And whither march ye, Captain Oldfield?" asked one of the gentlemen of Longdendale, as the talk went on.
"Toward York, Sir Squire," replied the officer; "To join the King."
"And how will the fight go? Think you the rebels will attack the city?"
"That I doubt. For Rupert is there, he of the Rhine, a Prince of fire, whose hot blood can never wait in patience for an a.s.sault. Rather should I think he will sweep down on the Roundheads before they muster in force sufficient to attack the city. As for the end of the fight, why, look you, I am no prophet. Being in the struggle I do my best, and I take the outcome, be it what it may, as becomes a true soldier.
There be some who pretend the seer"s gift of sight so that they can foresee what is to happen, but on such things I set little importance.
If the end is evil, why, then, the knowledge of it comes soon enough.
And if good, why the joy is all the greater for the waiting."
The farmer now raised his voice:
"If it please you," he said, "there is a neighbour woman who possesses the gift of sight. She foretells events in a manner right wonderful.
If your worships like, I will e"en summon her before you."
"Well," quoth the Cavalier, "I have no objection to witnessing her antics, though I set no store by what she may say. So bring her within; "twill help the time to pa.s.s."
The farmer left the room, and presently returned, leading in an old beldame, whose withered and bent form seemed scarcely able to stand upright. She leaned heavily upon an old crutch, and her breath came in loud gasps as though she were a prey to asthma.
"What is your will?" she asked, in a fit of coughing. "I am old; could ye not let me rest a"nights without summoning me to make sport at your revels."
"Come, granny," said one of the gentlemen, "be not ill-tempered; we would let these good Cavaliers witness a sample of your skill. They ride to York to join the King, and would know what fate awaits them there."
The old dame laughed shrilly.
"Better had they wait. Evil comes soon enough. Why not drink and be merry while ye may?"
"Why, granny, whence this croaking? What ill-fate seest thou?"