For the White Rose of Arno

Front matter

PRINTED FROM AMERICAN PLATES AT THE ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS. BY OWEN RHOSCOMYL AUTHOR OF " BATTLEMENT AND TOWER," ETC LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 3g PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 1897 AU rights reserved DEDICATION to every man who, no matter how plainly he recognises the benefits which accrued from the defeat of culloden, still dreams longingly of the deeds he would have done to turn the fortune of the day had he but been there, THIS BOOK IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR THE EPISTLE TO THE READER In dubbing this book " For the White Rose of Arno " I was not aware that the phrase was at all questionable, until a student of the Jacobite movement pinked it with a, " Why of Arno ? The Pre tenders had nothing to do with the Arno. Why not of Tiber ? " In reply I could only say that the phrase was not mine but Pengraig's own, and that it was used also in a pamphlet published immediately after his death for the purpose of vilifying his name and memory.

It is certain, therefore, that " the White Rose of Arno" was well understood to express symbolically the Pretender and his cause at the time when both were living factors to be reckoned with. Moreover, Llewellin, in his biography of Morgan, continues the use of the term, and the latest writer upon the point, Mr. J. Arthur Price, follows in his wake. Thus this book could hardly come out under any other title than the one which meant so much to the chief actors in it. So much for the title ; and as to the matter of the story, I should like to point out that in discussing Charles Edward's march to Derby and subsequent retreat, sufficient weight has never yet been al- THE EPISTLE TO THE READER VIII lowed to that part of the Jacobite movement dealt with in this tale. The reason for this lack, how ever, is a most potent one — neither the documen tary nor the traditionary history of that part of the movement has yet been printed.

But a great deal of material for such a history still exists, in spite of long neglect, and may some day be gathered and given to the world. In the meantime these pages may serve to shed a little light upon the more dra matic scenes and incidents of an almost forgotten episode, and at the same time to indicate what was perhaps the chief reason why Charles Edward's march upon London ended at Derby. It is proper to state here that this is the first time that allusion has ever been made in print to the messenger who was undoubtedly despatched from Preston to Wynstay. The story, however, came to me from a source which I hold beyond question, and so must be allowed to stand as evidence in its bare simplicity, even if not in the embroidered out lines of the text. And so I leave you, Dear Sir or Madam, to dis cover in the story the application of the allusions in this epistle, the while I sign myself and remain. Yours very truly, THE AUTHOR.

Chapter I

In the smithy of Efail the smith had just dropped the last hoof of a deep-chested bay horse, and was wiping the sweat from his face with the back of the hand which still held the rasp. " You do your work as workmanlike as ever," said the horseman standing beside him, a gentleman of fifty or thereabouts, booted and spurred for a journey. " Yea," replied the smith, glancing again at the neat finish of his handiwork. Then, looking at the other, he continued: " I made a good job of it, because it is like to be the last good turn I can ever do for you, Pengraig. Before those shoes wear out I fear you may have need of the nag that wears them, and, Whig as I am, I would not have you think that one of your own people betrayed you by a loose shoe. There will be bloody doings before those shoes wear out."

He shook his head mourn fully. " Tut! tut! Roger Gof," returned Pengraig cheerily; "there will be no blood spilt. The army is away, fighting all over Europe, as usual, for the sake of a petty German principality. Britain is still the catspaw of Hanover, and the jest and scoff of every nation on the Continent. No, soldiers are too few in England just now to make any blood shed, and what honest man, other than a soldier, would draw blade for the Hanoverian ? " The striker beside the anvil closed his grip sug gestively upon the handle of his sledge. " As to that " began he. His master checked him sharply: " Quiet, you." Then to the horseman: "It is strange that you should be so ready to rise, Pengraig. True enough, you are a bard, and all bards follow the White Rose; but then, you have been a lawyer in London so long — and cousin to the king's best admiral, and all.

I wonder at you." " Foh ! Why should not a lawyer be an honest man as well — though, for that matter, I hardly ever practised the profession. And you forget that I served as an officer for a couple of stiff campaigns before I was a lawyer, while as to Admiral Matthews, he is his own keeper and his own chooser, as I am mine. I have much better reason for wonder ing at you." " No need for your wonder. Look you " — the smith spread his strong hand to indicate the scene — " look you how fair and peaceful all the land lies. Am I one to wish to bring war upon it ? Is it right, or worth while, do you think ? And for what ? ' ' " For right! To restore our lawful king and the true succession ; and when we strike for truth and justice, everything is right and worth while — even to the shedding of blood. ' How fair the land is,' say you.

Yea, it is fair; aye, it is more than fair to me when I think of it as the land of my birth. But when I think of it as one of the countries dragged at the heel of the Elector of Hanover, then it becomes foul with dishonour and black with shame. Better a thousand times that it were black with ashes or foul with blood ! But, thank God, a new day is dawning — a day when we shall all be free again and James the Third shall wear the crown of his ancestors, and Britain rest once more in peace and honour before the world." " You will never see that day," put in the striker. "That you will not," added the smith firmly. ' ' What ! " he went on, " the rags of Rome ! Are we all to be Papists, or all burnt ? " " Papists," retorted the other impatiently. " Am I the man to be a Papist, either ? What alehouse talk!

Why, this young Prince, Charles Edward, who has just landed in Scotland, was educated by Protestant tutors and governors! " " Aye, no doubt; and if every man were as sure as you are that the White Rose of Arno — as you call the Pretender — would bring no Red Hat, that Stuart did not spell Pope, then there would be no need of ridings and battles. George would be more eager to get out of London than ever this other to get in. No, that is why we are all against you." " Aye, you are all against me now, but when I return you will all be with me." He was leading his horse into the road as he spoke, and the smith at once stepped forward to take the bridle, the striker at the same hastening to hold the stirrup for the mounting. Once in the saddle, he pulled out a coin to pay with. " Nay, keep that," said the smith, putting it from him.

" Some day, perhaps, I'll go to Pen-y-graig and your lady shall pay me. You will want every penny you carry now, before you are done with this rebellion." ' Then let Owen, here, take it to drink the health of King James with," smiled the rider cheerily, dropping the coin into the hammer-man's hand. " Oh, I'll do that," grinned the recipient. " We all know that the air of the Vale of Arno agrees better with James than the air of Britain. So I'll drink to his keeping his good health in Arno, and to George's keeping both health and crown in Lon don. Good money is like good ale, and should never be wasted." All three laughed at the sally. " I would double the money, only that I fear the smith would be without a striker. It takes a long time to get sober, Owen. But, good day to you both and remember what I say— you will all of you be with me when I return."

He put his horse into motion as he finished speaking. " One moment, sir," cried the smith; " is there nothing that will move you ? I am thinking of your own good, sir, for we have heard — that is, old Alswn said — that your good lady " " Dreamed a dream," put in Pengraig quietly, as the other hesitated for a word. But both smith and striker saw that the colour ebbed a little from his face as he spoke, and the rougher man was readier than his master in answering. " You know it was no dream, sir. She foresaw you truly: it was a vision; and such a vision on such a night is " "To be expected," interposed Pengraig with a strong effort at cheerfulness. Yet he had to swal low the lump in his throat before he could continue. " Can you not see that it was merely the natural outcome of a loving wife's fears, filling her soul with terror for the dangers which she believed me running into ?

And since the gallows and the quar tering knife are the most sharply outlined of all the possibilities ahead, she of course dwelt upon them till they distracted her; and then comes Hal lowe'en, and the Eve of the Feast of the Dead, when, following a silly superstition, she took and lit her candle in the church, and — well, she thought she saw an actual vision. Poor wife ! I wish every mumbling old nurse in the country had all such silly, superstitious trash whipped out of her, and then the next generation would at least be free of that nonsense." ' You call it nonsense, sir," returned the smith evenly, " and yet at the same time your face shows that you believe it. Why then will you go, when in your heart you believe that you are going to the scaffold ? " Over the grave face of Pengraig dawned a sad smile of tender strength.

" And if I do believe it, what then ? Would you have a man turn back from doing what is right merely from fear of death ? Was any great thing ever done by men who feared death ? Dream or foretelling, one or both, I am still going — and besides, if it be a vision of Fate, then how could I escape by remaining at home ? That which is to be, will be, in spite of aught I may do to prevent it. So, a farewell to you both again. Good day." The two stood silent in the road looking after him as he went, till at length they were roused by the sound of hoofs coming at a sharp trot along the road behind them. The first of the newcomers was a young gentleman of easy face and figure, in direct contrast to the decisive lines on which half a century had moulded the rider just departed. " Who is that gentleman ?

" asked he sharply, in English, indicating the disappearing figure ahead. " Dim Saesneg ! "* returned the smith quickly. The young man smiled. "Ah! I forgot," pref aced he, as he repeated the question in Welsh. "Are you a Whig?" interposed the striker sharply, his empty hand gripping an imaginary hammer shaft. * I have no English. " What is that to you ?" demanded the rider in turn. "Or maybe you are some Government spy?" pursued the striker doggedly. " If you call me Hanoverian even, let alone spy, I'll break every bone in your body!" retorted the young man hotly, raising his whip to strike. The threatened one grinned through his grime. " Then you are no Whig," quoth he. " Man, I am looking for Mr. David Morgan. Do Whigs look for him ? " " Sometimes they do — spies," put in the smith heavily.

" And they will look for him again, unless he mercifully be killed in some battle, for the bullet and the trench are better than the gallows and Temple Bar." " Foh ! if that be all, I see you are both honest men," answered the rider gaily. " I am a Tory, too, just come from the Jacobite club of Westmin ster to their president, David Morgan of Pen-y graig and so forth. Tush! man, I'll prophesy better than that. He shall come neither to trench nor gallows but home here to his own Vale of Taff, when the king shall enjoy his own again, as they sing in London town. And now, tell me, is that the gen tleman ? " 'That is Pengraig himself," assented the smith. " David ap Thomas," * supplemented the striker. " Or David Morgan, as the Prince and our Eng lish friends call him," laughed the rider. " And as the judge will call him when he dooms him," added the smith.

" Stop it, man," cried the rider. " If you were a raven from Dun 'r aven you could not croak more dismally. But I am off; good day to you both, for honest men and good fellows." He started forward at a brisk pace as he ended, followed at a respectful distance by his grimly silent companion. A stern chase is a long one, but Pen graig was easy upon his horse, and within a couple of miles or so he was turning in the saddle in answer to the other's hail. As soon as he saw him he drew to a halt. " What, is it thou, Ithel ? Welcome, welcome. And what brings Meredith of Presgwyn to South Wales instead of to North ?" They were shaking hands before he had finished, and Ithel was beaming with pleasure, though at the same time he flushed a little at the question. " Why," said he, hesitating a little, " I have * Morgan's name in the pedigree of his kindred. brqught a letter for you from Alderman Heathcote, and another from the club at Westminster.

It is said in London that the Prince is definitely set to march south into England, and it was thought well to send you the news by me. Here are the mis sives; though I fear my news is stale to you, for all the air seems full of it." " Aye," returned the other, breaking the seals as he spoke; " what with the rejoicings of friends and the fears of enemies, words fly like hawks in such times as these. But what say the worthy Alderman and ' The Independent Electors of Westminster ' ? " Running his eye over the contents of both papers : " Oh," commented he, " the usual story. ' Let the Prince show himself in London,' etc. That is all very well, my good friends; but I think he would show himself in the city all the sooner if you were to turn out, mounted and weaponed, to show him the way thither.

" Well, well; enough of the ' Independent Elec tors ' for the present, and tell me, Ithel, how does my poor wife bear up since my leaving her ? For I suppose that you called at Pengraig to find me." The other blushed a little. " Why, sir, to tell you the truth, I did not enter your house. One of your old retainers was sitting at the gate bewailing your going, and so I followed straight on, as I thought my news of much importance." Especially as all the air seemed full of it,' ' quoted Pengraig; " and even more especially as I had already forestalled it by starting on the journey which these letters were to suggest. But I suppose the old retainer also told you that, of my two daughters, only little Siani remained with my poor wife, and that Mistress Mari had been gone some month or so ago — eh, Ithel ?

" " Indeed, no, sir. He told me absolutely nothing except that you were gone. Had I known that your poor lady and little Siani were alone, I should certainly have gone in and endeavoured to com fort ' ' Pengraig slipped a little sigh of relief. His wife's vision, or warning, had not yet reached the ears of the newcomer, then. His spirits rose. " Yes, yes; go on, young gentleman," prompted he quizzically, as the other hesitated. " We are coming on finely. I did not know that it was my wife you were after — for I do not suppose it is little Siani in the nursery whom you would have got down to comfort. Now I had thought it had been her elder sister, Mistress Mari, that attracted you. Oho ! This is a pretty marry-come-up for an unsuspecting husband and father to stumble upon. Yea, indeed! " The young man's face changed from red to white as he listened to the raillery, fidgeting in the saddle the while.

But he screwed his courage and sat bolt upright in replying: "It is true, sir, that I was more than attracted by your daughter Mari. But as soon as I found that she was pledged to another I fought down the notion, until, when I started on this errand to you, sir, I believed that I had thor oughly tutored myself. It was only when I came in sight of your gateway that my courage failed me and that was why I turned away." " One moment, Ithel. To whom is my daughter pledged ? This is the first I hear of it— it would seem that I really have stumbled upon a piece of news." " Why, sir," answered the young man in pure surprise, " I supposed you knew all about it, or I should not have mentioned it. As it is, sir, I beg you will not press me further on the matter " Enough on that point," interrupted the other quickly.

" One other thing, however; was it my daughter herself who told you this ? " " Why — no," stammered the young man. " I — that is, sir " " And enough on that point too," broke in Pen graig briskly again. " I should be loath to tell a young man whom I love that he is a fool ; but — Ithel, I am somewhat astonished to hear such a tale from you. Some misunderstood word, dropped casually, I'll warrant, and misconstrued in a moment of pique; and then you brood upon it till you find a whole volume of set meaning and innuendo in the poor half-dozen letters of it, and so end up by ' tutoring ' yourself. Fie on you, for a proud young romantic, who must establish his suit by a whole hecatomb of dragons slain on his lady's behalf, and who must thereupon have his lady straightway fall into his arms, together with her whole kingdom, exclaiming, ' I am all yours — take me.' " Foh, lad, take nobody's word but the lady's own, and don't even take that unless you feel in clined.

I never interfere in these matters, but I want to see you bestir yourself. So ! " Ithel listened to the half-bantering tone with a face brightening at every word. By the time it was ended he sat in his saddle as if a fresh horse were under it. " Why, sir," began he; then breaking off, " But I wish you would speak to Iolyn * and ' tutor ' him. He does more than deserve it. All * = Yollin. the way from London he has ridden behind me like a lackey, just as he is sitting yonder now. I warned him that you would be angry also, but he said I could not tell till we found you — and he stuck stub bornly to that miserable two lengths in rear." Pengraig's face softened instantly. " Poor lad," said he in a low voice, " I wondered what his notion was " ; then, loud enough to reach the one behind: "Come, Iolyn, lad, and say good day to me.

Come, the play is over; you have had your prank; now ride soberly alongside. You cannot pass for a lackey in any case." The young fellow addressed yielded so far as to come within one length of the others, but there he checked stubbornly. " I can pass for a lackey, and think myself fortunate at that. Was not my mother " " There, there, lad," broke in Pengraig hastily, as he spurred instantly alongside him and seized his hand. " Never mind that now; the day has come at last, thank heaven, when we can put an end to all those horrible deeds done in the name of law. And you are riding with us to the chang ing of it. Think of that, and ride quietly along with me." "Oho!" cried the lad, his eyes flashing in his face like sheet lightning through a dusky summer night. " And we will burn the canting chafferers of Ludgate; and we will hang Gwgan* Maddox, for he is a Whig, as well as the son of his father." * Welsh w here is like English 00.

Chapter II

Nevertheless, when they started forward again, Iolyn dropped back to his former distance, and, after one hasty glance at his face, Pengraig tacitly acqui esced in the position. " Poor lad," whispered he to Ithel, " we must humour him for the moment; it will wear off in a day or two, no doubt. But I suppose it is the near prospect of seeing the Hanove rian sent packing that has so seriously upset him — that, and perhaps some foolish taunt of Maddox's." " Why, sir, there was a very brisk passage be tween them a day or two before we left London." Meredith spoke in the same low tone as the other. " You remember, sir, the old weapon, the bidogan, that Iolyn bought from the harper of Dinas Mow ddy ? Well, he drew that upon Mr. Maddox, because he threatened him with the gallows. I managed to get between them and hinder Iolyn till the other could escape by the door.

But his folly came near-hand costing him his life; I hope it will be a warning to him." If it is not," broke out Pengraig indignantly, " then I will read Mr. Maddox a lesson that shall be one. He makes me mad at times. Hang it — but there, there, it will be some time till we see him again, and things will, I hope, have altered so much that he will have other subjects to joke about. And now, enough of that — tell me how things look in London for our cause." " Wynstay hath been so busy, sir, that all the town talks of nothing but Sir Watkin, and so much believes in his words that no one will accept of place or office in this Government. To take office now would be to lose it when the Prince comes, say they. And so you can judge that the city is in a pretty upset." " So like Wynstay," smiled Pengraig.

" As ready as a mastiff to worry the Hanoverian. But do you think he will be able to get the militia of the city to rise — and who is to bring out North Wales if he stops much longer in town ? " " Nay, sir, he hath already left London for Wynstay to gather his kindred. If your way lies by Wynstay, sir " " My way lies to Wynstay, not only by it," returned the other promptly. " And do you take any force with you, sir ? " haz arded Ithel. " No, not yet. This must be no ragged rising by parishes, for beadles and tipstaves to put down. I have been with the Duke of Beaufort, and the whole plan is settled for South Wales. Now I am going to confer with Wynstay, who has settled the case for North Wales, and we are then to bring the two movements into line ; after which I am to ride north at once and lay the nation's offer at the feet of Charles Edward, the Prince Regent, who will transmit his further commands in the matter.

That is why I go without even my own tenants. The rising is to be the rising of the whole nation as one man, so that Hanover may see how deep is our abhorrence of all usurpers." "It is a grand idea, if only it be fulfilled," said Meredith fervently. " Aye, we have planned with care. What men can do in preparation we have done, and now the issue lies in God's hands. If we fail, it will be be cause He has some mysterious purpose in view; something beyond our weak and finite understand ing. But I trust it to Him with a quiet mind." They rode in silence for a short distance, and then, rousing from a reverie, " And as to yourself, Ithel ? " queried Pengraig. " Why, sir, ' My foot is in the stirrup and my sword is on my thigh.' When we come to Wyn stay we shall, no doubt, find the Head of my Kin dred there, and he will call on me, unless — unless you yourself have some more important task for me, sir ?

" ended Ithel questioningly. " Some more important task," repeated the other meditatively. " In any case, there is one task for which you are most fit : a task which must be done before your Chief needs you. I shall have to re main with the Prince when once I join him, because I have all the threads of the plot in my mind and so can give him any information he needs from day to day. Thus, I shall want a trusty messenger to carry his commands back to Wynstay, setting the time and place for the rising of Wales. Now, Sir Watkin knows you for a bold rider to hounds, and I know you for a pretty man with your weapons. You shall be our messenger, and I will warrant you with the Head of your kin." " I am very deeply indebted to you, sir," replied Ithel, restraining his gladness with difficulty from breaking into a torrent of words of thanks.

They rode over the next mile or two in silence, all their attention being needed to help their horses in the storm-channelled and boulder-strewn track, by courtesy called a road, which they were following. Presently they reached a more decent stretch, and here Pengraig looked up with a quick and kindly glance at his companion. " And there is someone else whom we are likely to meet at Wynstay," he broke out quizzically, as if some pleasantry had driven all weightier matters out of his head. " You remember that my wife, though born in London, was a Kyffin, and so — what think you, Meredith? — my daughter, Mistress Mari, none other, is at present visiting amongst her mother's kindred. Will the Head of that kindred claim her, think you, to follow with the rest to the field ? " If he does," cried Ithel, putting a bold counte nance of jest upon his confusion, " then I will re open the old feud.

Waenddu is still without a boundary; I will build up the old wall again and keep guard upon it. That will fetch every Kyffin of them all back from the Prince's army, even from the very field of battle," ended he, with a broad smile. " Like the bad old days, when the most important war was always the one at a man's own gate, for his trumpery erw* of plough-land," took up Pengraig, smiling too. "Ah, well! Ah, well ! We shall see," ended he, relapsing again into silence. * erw = the amount of land which a team of four oxen could plough in one day. Next day they found companions for their ride. Drawing rein at Courtfield of the Vaughans, they found that the heir of that house, young Richard Vaughan, was ready saddled for the wars, bound thither under the guidance of William Vaughan, his uncle.

From this place, therefore, they travelled forward as a company of seven, four gentlemen and three servants, for Iolyn still stubbornly persisted in playing the part of lackey. Calling, then, at the houses of all such gentlemen of note and Heads of Kin dred as lay in their route, they pushed on steadily until, in the afternoon of a still, bright day in November, they checked at the gates of the great park of Wynstay. The porter at the lodge answered readily to the questioning of Pengraig. ' Yea, the hall is full of gentlemen, for it is a meeting day of the Cycle Club,* as well as a mustering of many kindreds." " Then we are come at the right hour," quoth Pengraig heartily to the others. ' The Cycle Club is to furnish us with three hundred horse, one half * The Cycle Club was a club composed of the Jacobite gentlemen — 2.1?., all the gentlemen — within a radius of fifteen or twenty miles of Wrexham, excluding Cheshire. of whom will be gentlemen of descent.