Читать книгу The Leaguer Of Lathom - William Harrison Ainsworth - Страница 17

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THAT night the interior of the fine old Collegiate Church presented a most singular spectacle.

The broad nave and aisles were filled with armed men, for all who came thither to offer thanksgiving had brought their weapons with them—muskets, pikes, and halberts.

The place was imperfectly lighted, but the gloom heightened the effect of the scene. A lamp fixed here and there against the pillars partially illumined the aisles, and revealed the stern visages of those grouped around.

The majority of the congregation were Presbyterians, but there were a great number of Round-heads present, easily distinguishable by their habiliments, and sour looks. These belonged to various sects, but they had come together on that night, which had been appointed for a general thanksgiving. Differences there might be among them on certain religious points, but they were all united against the common enemy—they were all violently opposed to the malignants and Papists. Among the assemblage thronging the nave were a large number of the militia, and several of their officers were with them. All the town guards—except those on duty—were present—Captain Cranage being conspicuous among them.

Every portion of the sacred structure was invaded—the chapels were full, the choir was as crowded as the nave, and the stalls were occupied by the fiercest enemies of the Established Church, who would gladly have destroyed them.

The service commenced with the psalm—O Lord, arise, and scatter thine enemies—and from the many earnest voices that joined in it, a fine effect was produced, but the sacred song lost much of its solemnity, since no organ accompanied it.

The noble instrument which, until lately, had resounded in the church, its strains rolling along the roof, and filling every part of the pile, had been silenced by the rigorous Puritans.

Amid the deep silence that followed the cessation of the singing, the impressive accents of Mr. Bourne were heard reading prayers, and the venerable figure of the divine could be seen in the pulpit.

Mr. Bourne was listened to with the greatest attention, and when he had finished reading, another hymn was sung by the whole congregation.

Then followed a fiery sermon by Warden Heyrick, that excited his hearers to the highest point, as was shown by the agitation pervading them.

The warden had just ceased, when Rosworm entered the sacred edifice from the south porch, and made his way as quickly as he could along the crowded aisle to the Trafford Chapel.

Here, among a number of armed men, he perceived a youthful soldier, accoutred in a buff coat and steel head-piece, and holding a musket in his hand. The features of this youth, so far as they could be discerned, were almost feminine, and his figure looked too slight for the martial task he had undertaken. Still, he seemed full of spirit.

On receiving a sign from Rosworm he left the corner where he was standing, and joined him, and they quitted the church together.

There was no moon, but the night was clear, and the stars shining brightly. Rosworm led his young companion across the churchyard towards the low stone wall that overlooked the river. Here were the best marksmen, and occasionally a shot was fired. On looking from the wall the dark outline of the bridge could be discerned, and the river glimmered as they approached it.

The besiegers, as already mentioned, had now taken possession of a house at the foot of the bridge, and kept up a constant fire against the guard at the barrier, but without doing much damage.

Satisfied with this inspection, Rosworm retraced his steps. The service was not yet over in the church, and the lights gleaming from the painted windows of the massive pile produced a very striking effect.

"Thou hadst best go home," said Rosworm, to his daughter. "I am about to mount the tower. Thou wilt find the ascent fatiguing."

But Gertrude would not be dissuaded, and entering by a low door at which a sentinel was stationed, they began to mount a circular stone staircase, that brought them to the belfry. A small lamp here and there fixed against the walls showed them the way.

The scene in the belfry was exceedingly curious, the place being filled with musketeers, several of whom were seated on benches, and making a hearty supper of cold meat and bread. The room was lighted up by a couple of lamps. Telling the men not to disturb themselves, Rosworm mounted with his daughter to the summit of the tower. Only a couple of musketeers were on the watch, but the others could be instantly summoned, if required.

From this elevated position, of course, the bridge could be discerned through the gloom, and the firing of the besiegers distinctly seen and heard. Looking towards the town, the buildings and fortifications could be imperfectly distinguished, but nothing was visible beyond the walls.

After contemplating this curious prospect for a few minutes, and pointing out the different barriers to his daughter, Rosworm bade the musketeers keep strict watch, and telling them he should return as soon as he had made his rounds, he descended with Gertrude to the belfry, and thence to the churchyard.

The congregation were then issuing from the church, but Rosworm hurried on with Gertrude through the dark and silent streets, through the now deserted market-place, and halted not till they reached the walls. Everywhere the sentinels were at their posts.

Turning off on the right, Rosworm next bent his course towards Deansgate, but halted before he got to the barrier. The post he had chosen commanded the end of the street, and looked towards Alport Lodge. All was buried in obscurity in that direction, and the mansion was quite undistinguishable.

"You will be able to witness the sortie from this point," said Rosworm. "I must leave you for a short time, but you will be perfectly safe here. Do not quit the spot on any account."

And committing her to the care of a sentinel, he moved off.