With the Red Eagle. An historical romance

Front matter

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Crown 8vo., cloth extra, 3s. 6d. SONS OF BELIAL. ' Refreshing plenitude of human interests thoroughly imbues " Sons of Belial "... a story well considered and admirably realized. . . . The history, with all its side-issues, is highly entertaining, and you would gladly have taken more of it.' — Black and ll 'kite. 'A very satisfactory bit of work, not inferior to anything we have had before from the pen of Mr. Westall. ... It is so well told, and it is sounded upon so close a study of the social life with which it deals, that it is well worth perusal.' — Speaker. ' A straightforward and interesting novel. . . . Mr. Westall's story is an eminently faithful presentment of middle-class life, thoroughly healthy in tone, and, like all Mr. Westall's tales, very well told.' — Glasgow Herald. 'Mr. Westall's " Sons of Belial" is his best novel hitherto.

It presents us with two distinctly individual and remarkable characters in Matthew Armstrong, the Belial of the book, and Paul, his brother, a criminal philosopher of the first class . . . who is worthy of the chronicler of " Les Gueux." . . . Paul, indeed, is so completely the gem of the cleverly-constructed story, that his well-behaved brother;- shine with but a subdued lustre.' — World. ' The book will be read with enjoyment by everyone who can enjoy a faithful picture of Black Country lire and character.' — Scotsman. ' Mr. Westall is to be congratulated upon a wholesome, fresh, and bright story.' — Literary World. ' " Sons of Belial " is a clever and vigorous book, wherein may be found not merely an interesting story, but much shrewd commonsense.'— Standard. Post 8vo., picture-boards, 2s. TRUST- MONEY. ' A spirited and enlertaining narrative, full of incident and of excitement. . . .

We can cordially recommend " Trust-Money" to those who want a lively novel with which to beguile a leisure hour.' — Speaker. 'The story is told with considerable art, and it grows in interest as it proceeds.'— Leeils Mercury. ' It is an interesting and well-written slosy.'— Glasgow Herald. ' "Trust-Money " will be found of absorbing interest. It is strong both in incident and in character-sketching. ... Hi_ accounts of the rides with the hounds are as dashing as those of Mr. Hawley Smart.'— Scottish Lea.icr. • Mr. Westall's story is well written, it is fresh, and its lines are laid in unhackneyed directions. —Standard. ' 'Mr. Westall is seen at his best in plot-construction in " Trust-Money.' The story is most skilfully constructed.'— Academy. 'It is a stirring book, full of go, dependent for its interest mainly upon its incidents _5_uV°Ca"«°U/ m°St llterary qualities which have made its author's reputation.'— London: CHATTO & W.NDUS, in St. Martin's Lane, W.C. AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE BY WILLIAM WESTALL AUTHOR of 'RED RYVINGTON,' 'TRUST-MONEY,' (SONS OF BELIAL,' ETC. 1 Tyroler Eagle, why so red ?

Chapter I

A ROLLING STONE. A May morning in the year 1809. A man, a boy, and two mules toiling through a wild ravine in the Alps of South Tyrol. On either side of them rise lofty peaks, white with snow and divided by a brawling stream, only faintly visible in the half-light of the sunless gorge. The path followed by the travellers and the mules had not been made for tourists. A mere track, worn by the footsteps of herds and hunters on the mountain side, it ran for the most part along the precipice which bordered the torrent, and was still in places encumbered with snow and slippery with ice. The man, who led the way, was somewhat above middle height, that is to say, five feet eleven in his stockings, broad-set, and something under thirty years old. He had brown hair and blue eyes, and in his own opinion was not ill-looking ; but a face bronzed by exposure to sun and wind, bushy whiskers, a beard of several days' growth, a rifle slung across his shoulders, and a double-barrelled pistol and a hunting-knife stuck I in his belt, gave him a somewhat truculent and ferocious air.

As touching dress, he wore a roomy jacket of Tyroler loden, breeches loose at the knee, thick woollen stockings, country shoes, and a broad-brimmed Tyroler hat adorned with gamecock feathers. The lad, who was evidently of the peasant class, brought up the rear, while the man marched well in front of the first mule, looking straight before him, but, as he was deep in thought, probably not seeing much. Each of the mules carried a couple of casks in addition to some other kit. As the party neared the summit of the pass, the man paused, gave a backward glance, doubtless to make sure that all was well with his charge, and was resuming his walk, when the lad startled him with a frantic ' Achtung !' (Look out !) several times repeated. A great stone, loosened by melting snow or recent rain, was leaping down the mountain-side, and, as it seemed, making straight for where the man stood.

The danger was imminent, flight impossible. There was naught for it but to throw himself on the ground and put his trust in Providence. A moment afterwards the huge stone made its final bound, cleared him by an inch, and fell with a mighty crash into the seething torrent. 'Thank God!' exclaimed the man fervently, as he rose to his feet. ' Help ! help !' shouted the lad The second mule, startled by the falling stone, had swerved from the track, on which its hind-legs only remained, its fore-feet hung over the almost perpendicular bank, where they had found a precarious support on a projecting ledge of rock. The boy, with ready presence of mind, had seized the beast's tail, and, with heels firmly planted, was pulling with all his might. The man's first impulse was to follow suit, but seeing that it would be impossible to recover the mule by holding on to its tail, and that until it was relieved of its load the animal could do nothing to help itself, he knelt down and began to unfasten the ropes and straps by which the casks were attached to the pack-saddle, a difficult and dangerous undertaking, the more especially as his desire to save the casks was greater than his desire to save the mule, else had a few slashes with a knife been a quicker method of release.

He had been at work but a minute or two, when the mule's feet slipped from the ledge, and the poor beast went the way of the stone, falling between it and the torrent, with its legs upward. ' By Jove ! five thousand pounds clean gone !' ex claimed the man in English. Then, lying down, he peered into the depths. The mule was motionless and, doubtless, stone-dead ; the casks lay beside it, not, perhaps, unbroken, yet apparently unshattered. Recovering them was hopeless, but they contained something which he was loath to leave, and, taking a coil of rope from the saddle of the surviving mule, the man considered whether it were possible to lower himself into the bed of the torrent. But the more he considered, the less feasible seemed the feat. There was nothing to which the rope could be fastened, even if it were stout enough to sustain him, which was by no means sure, and though he might succeed in getting down, it would be impossible for him to ascend, hand over-hand, carrying a burden ; and for the boy to haul him up was clearly out of the question. ' No use ; I must give it up.

Pity, though, after bringing it so far. Luckily, I did not put all my eggs in one basket !' thought the man. Presently he had another thought : ' The misfortune is not irreparable. Wild animals may pick the mule's bones, but they will neither drink the wine nor take the coin. If I succeed in finding these people, I must get them to send somebody for it, or come myself with strength and a stout rope.' ' Has this place a name, Hans ?' he asked, turning to the boy. ' Yes, sir ; they call it Wolf's Schlucht.' * Wolf 's Glen ! And it looks wolfish. Are there any wolves hereabout, do you think ?' ' No. Wolves like cover, and there is nothing for them to eat.' ' Chamois ?' ' Chamois ! A wolf could not catch a chamois,' said the boy, laughing at his companion's ignorance. ' See there !' pointing towards the other side of the torrent.

Looking thitherwards, the man perceived a chamois perched on a rocky pinnacle so high and isolated that it seemed inaccessible to any creature unfurnished with wings. ' Hush ! I'll have a shot at him,' whispered the wine merchant, unslinging his rifle. But the chamois had already winded them, and as the words were spoken he sprang, without apparent effort, on to another peak twenty feet away, then made a second bound, and disappeared into space. ' You are right, Hans ; no wolf could catch a fellow like that, and I am not sorry he did not wait to be shot. We should have had to leave him for the foxes and eagles. The mule is enough for them. Let us go on ; it is cold.' It was cold. The snow on the heights chilled the air, a searching wind blew up the gorge, the sun's rays were interrupted by a passing cloud.

The man and the boy continued their climb, yet warily withal, for the track was slippery and steep, and keeping a sharp look-out the while for stones and avalanches, but not meddling with the mule. He was surer-footed than they, and, though willing to follow, objected to be led. After a two-hours' scramble, interrupted now and then for a momentary rest, they reached the foot of a glacier, wherefrom issued a turbid and turbulent stream which they had to ford, a proceeding not free from peril, since, though the stream was neither deep nor wide, a rolling stone might have broken a leg or swept them from their feet. But they got safely over. The exposure was now full south, the wind warm, and a tiny oasis of velvety turf invited to repose. ' This is appetizing work. Let us eat and drink,' said the man, taking from a pannier carried by the mule bread and cheese and a bottle of wine.

The mule was next unsaddled and unbridled, and, after indulging in a roll, began cropping the tender grass. When the man and the boy had eaten their fill, the former lighted a cigar, and unfolded a map, which he closely studied. ' I should like to know how far it is to Sterzing, and this map does not throw much light on the subject. It does not seem far as the crow flies, and, judging by the time we have been travelling, it ought to be near ; but we are not crows, and these mountain tracks are not marked. Have you any idea, Hans ? Is it one day's march, or more ?' ' Two, I should say ; but, as I have never before been further than this through the mountains, I am not sure,' responded Hans. 'By the highroad, we should have been there already.' ' I don't think I should,' said the man dryly. ' It was touch-and-go when we met those Bavarians in the Moellthall.

That sergeant only half believed I was a travelling wine-merchant, though I gave him a drink and showed him your father's passport.' ' There are neither Bavarians nor French up here.' ' That is the only redeeming feature in our present situation, Friend Hans. But we cannot stay up here, and the question is to ascertain whether the Brenner road is occupied by the enemy and there is any possibility of getting over the Jaufen to Passeir. That is where your father said I was most likely to find Mr. Hofer.' ' If we follow the course of the stream — see ! there is a path — we are sure to come to a house, or fall in with somebody of whom we can inquire.' ' And who will perhaps give us wrong information, or put the French on our track.' ' We are in Tyrol, Meinherr, and Tyrolers are neither liars nor traitors,' exclaimed the boy indignantly. ' I beg your pardon, Hans.

I did not mean to hurt your feelings, and I am quite sure Tyrolers are an honest folk ; but there are black sheep everywhere, and we may light on one unawares. However, risks must be run, and a bold course is generally the safest. I shall ask the first person we meet the nearest way to Sterzing, or any other point on the Brenner road, and go there straight, unless we hear that it is beset by the enemy.' Whereupon the mule was saddled, the casks adjusted, and the journey resumed. The road, though seldom otherwise than rough and difficult, improved as the wayfarers went on, and albeit their course was occasionally upward, it was downward for the most part, occasionally descending rapidly. An hour's walk brought them to a chalet and farmstead, where a woman was working with a wheelbarrow. The traveller, doffing his hat, greeted her courteously, and inquired whether she could give him a drink. ' Will milk do for you ?' said she. ' Thank you ; a glass of milk would be very accept able.' The woman went into the house, and presently returned with a bowl of milk, of which he drank one half, and Hans the other. ' Can you tell me how far it is to Brixen or Botzen, or the nearest town on the Brenner road ?' asked the man, as he handed the bowl back to the woman. ' It is a long way to Botzen, but seven hours will bring you to Sterzing.' ' Thank you ; and what is going on at Sterzing ?

Are there any rebels or French or Bavarian soldiers in that neighbourhood?' ' That's more than I know, Meinherr.' ' Well, you can perhaps tell me where Andreas Hofer, of Passeir, is to be found ?' The woman's face darkened with suspicion and dis trust, and answering, ' I cannot tell you,' she turned her back on her questioner, who went away reluctantly, for he would fain have had the information which he sought. The man, the mule, and the boy had not left the chalet many minutes, when another boy, bareheaded and barefooted, dropped into the path, thereabouts hollow and bordered by trees, and without looking round ran on at a great pace. ' What can he be after ?' said the man. ' He comes from the direction of the house. Going an errand for his master, I should say,' answered Hans. ' It must be a very pressing errand.

However, it is no business of ours.' Soon they passed more farmsteads, yet, except to ask the way to Sterzing, the wine-merchant made no further inquiries. But it struck him as strange that only women, children, and graybeards were to be seen — no young men — a circumstance to which he called his companion's attention, and asked him what it could mean. ' It looks as if there had been an Aufgebot,' replied Hans. ' You mean a call to arms ? In that case there is something afoot, and we must keep a sharp look-out, or we may find ourselves between two fires. I will go ahead. You follow slowly with the mule.' They were in a hollow way, the steep slopes on either side of them being strewn with stones and dotted with fir-trees and bushes, an admirable place for an ambush. The man advanced cautiously, keeping his eyes and ears well open, and went on until he reached a sharp bend of the road, which he had no sooner rounded than he was greeted with an abrupt ' Halt, or we fire!' Glancing in the direction of the voice, he saw something decidedly unpleasant — three rifle-barrels pointing straight at him, over a big stone, and behind them three Tyroler hats.

Resistance and retreat being equally out of the ques tion, the man halted, doffed his hat, and made a polite bow. The rifles remained as they were ; but three men, previously invisible, descended the bank, followed by a bare-headed, bare-footed boy, whom the wine merchant had seen before. The three men bore a suspicious resemblance to robbers. All carried rifles ; one fellow had, in addition, a pistol in his belt and a sabre by his side. They wore plumed hats, the feathers behind, roomy jackets, coloured waistcoats, short leather breeches which left their knees uncovered, and footless stockings. ' Your arms,' demanded the man with the sword. The arms were surrendered. ' Who and what are you ?' ' Peter Starker, wine-merchant, from Lienz. Here is my passport.' ' I cannot read writing, and I should not believe it if I could.

A wine-merchant with one mule wandering in these mountains !' ' I lost a mule on the way, and I came by the moun tains to avoid the Bavarians.' ' He's a Bavarian himself. He talks like one.' ' A Bavarian and a spy,' put in one of the other fellows. ' Anyhow, he is after no good. Better knock him on the head and have done with him. The wine and the mule will be very useful.' ' That would be murder and robbery, and you would be very sorry afterwards, especially if it came to the ears of Andreas Hofer.' ' What do you know about Hofer ?' asked the man with the sabre. 'Very little. I would gladly know more. I am neither a Bavarian nor a spy, as I can easily prove if you will take me to one of your officers, and I can give valuable information.' On this the three men held a consultation in a dialect incomprehensible to their prisoner.

At its conclusion the spokesman announced their decision. ' We will take you to the Sandwirt.' ' Who is the Sandwirt ?' ' You will see. We will take you to the Sandwirt, and if you cannot make good what you say, it will go ill with you, and if you try to escape you will be riddled with bullets before you have run twenty yards. Every man of us is a dead shot.' The prisoner had no wish to escape. Fortune was befriending him more than he had expected. These men were unquestionably rebels, and he whom they called Sandwirt might be one of the rebel leaders whom he had travelled to Tyrol purposely to see.

Chapter II

A PERILOUS UNDERTAKING. Having made my bow to the reader, and opened my story in the third person, it will be convenient — at any rate, for myself and my purpose — to continue it in the first, after explaining how I came to be wandering in the wilds of Tyrol with two mules and a boy. Very briefly, for I dislike explanations only one degree less than I detest mysteries. My name is Hugh Maynard, and at the time in question I was a Captain of foot in the army of King George, and an agent of the British Foreign Office. Several years previously my father, from whom I had received a handsome allowance, suddenly died, leaving me, instead of an expected fortune, with debts which, albeit not heavy for my position, I was unable to dis charge. There seemed nothing for it but selling out, which had well-nigh broken my heart, for I liked soldiering, and was eager for promotion.

From this misfortune I was saved by my Colonel, who obtained me an appointment as King's Messenger, a post for which I was qualified by a knowledge of German, acquired during a year's sojourn in Hamburg in my boyhood, and a smattering of French and Italian, picked up during the expedition to Egypt, where I served under Sir Ralph Abercromby. I was also in Sicily, and served at the battle of Maida. The emoluments were satisfactory, and enabled me after a while to settle with my creditors. Also the work was congenial. At that period Europe was ablaze with war, and in my journeyings abroad I saw many strange things, and met with some startling and piquant adventures. On the other hand, I had to endure long intervals of idleness, and my professional career was in the way of being ruined. Though nearly thirty, I was merely a half-pay Captain, and there seemed little likelihood of my ever being aught else.

To this dismal fate I had almost resigned myself, when a chance occurred of engaging once more in active service, and resuming my connection with the army, which I eagerly embraced. It came in the shape of a proposal from the Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. War was impending between France and Austria. Our Government, being desirous of affording their ally substantial help, had granted the Austrian Government a subsidy of two millions sterling, and were preparing an expedition to Walcheren. Another diversion was to be a rising in Tyrol, which four years previously Bonaparte had wrested from Austria and annexed to Bavaria. By way of helping this movement, our people had decided to send thither an officer with a sum of money for the use of the rebels. I was the officer designated for this duty, for which tbe Under secretary was pleased to say I was admirably fitted, and hoped I should appreciate the compliment which his proposal implied.

I answered that I appreciated it highly. On the other hand, carrying money and compromising papers A PERILOUS UNDERTAKING 13 through an enemy's lines was an unusually perilous undertaking, and, though I set no great store by my life, I was not going to risk being hanged as a spy, to say nothing of minor dangers, for the pay of a King's Mes senger. Whereupon the Under - Secretary, a most business-like gentleman, asked me to name my terms. ' A thousand pounds down before I start,' said I, ' and a written promise of being gazetted Major and appointed to a regiment on my return — if I live to return.' To this the Under-Secretary agreed, subject to Lord Bathurst's approval, and then we went into details. The treasure with which I was to be entrusted amounted to thirty thousand pounds in English sovereigns and Venetian ducats.

Myself and the money would be taken to Trieste by a British frigate, and there landed. From Trieste I was to make my way to Tyrol as best I could, and place the coin and my services, in a military capacity, at the disposal of the rebel leaders. It would also be my duty to send reports in cipher of the progress and incidents of the war whenever occasion sen-ed. As to who the rebel leaders were, or where I should find them, he could give me no information. This was vague enough, in all conscience ; yet, as the Under-Secretary correctly observed, he could not tell me more than he knew, and when you have con fidence in a man it is better to trust to his discretion than fetter him with instructions. A few days after this conversation I received the thousand pounds and the written promise, both of which I lodged with my bankers.

I received, further, a letter signed by Lord Bathurst, accrediting me to the chiefs of the insurrection, and assuring them of Eng land's sympathy in their struggle for freedom ; also a special passport and safe-conduct, signed by the Austrian Ambassador, together with an intimation from the Office that as the Red King was on the point of sailing, the sooner I reported myself at Portsmouth, whither the coin had already been sent under escort, the better. Three weeks later I was at Trieste, where my first proceeding was to place two-thirds of the coin on deposit with the eminent banking house of Levita and Co., on the understanding that I could withdraw it at short notice, either personally or by a properly executed order. It would have been unwise to put all my eggs in one basket, even if I had possessed the means of carrying so great a weight of bullion into a remote and mountainous country, which, as I heard, was swarming with soldiers, stragglers, and camp followers.

The Austrian authorities granted me every facility, and I travelled post as far as Lienz with an escort of gendarmes. But on hearing that the Archduke John had been defeated in Upper Italy, and that the French were in Carinthia, the officer in command of the detachment declined to go further, and advised me to retrace my steps. To this craven counsel I naturally refused to listen. I was not going to throw up the sponge before I had stripped for the fight. In this emergency I took into my confidence a worthy innkeeper of the name of Starker, who made no secret of his hatred of the French and Bavarians and sympathy with the rebels. At his suggestion, I bought two mules and four casks, which we fitted with false bottoms, and, after putting in the coin, filled up the void with wine. I was to travel as a wine-merchant, to which end Starker obtained me a suitable dress, lent me his Bavarian travelling-pass, and allowed his son Hans to A PERILOUS UNDERTAKING 15 go with me as companion and guide.

As for the rebel chiefs, of whose names and whereabouts I was still ignorant, he recommended me to seek out one Andreas Hofer, the foremost of them all. Hofer's house was at Passeir, in South Tyrol, but where I should find him Starker had no idea, and counselled me to make inquiries as we went along, yet cautiously withal, for troops were moving about in all directions, and the mere men tion of Hofer's name might get me into trouble, despite my borrowed passport and country clothes. For the same reason he bade his son avoid highroads and the lower valleys, and follow, as far as possible, mountain tracks and unfrequented paths, even though they should take us out of our way. On this advice we faithfully acted, with the satisfactory result that, albeit we were several times in danger, we met with no mishap more serious than losing two of the casks in Wolfs Schlucht, and I hoped they were not lost past recovery.

Our capture by the band of armed peasants I regarded as a stroke of luck. Though they had deprived me of my arms, and one of them had proposed to knock me on the head, they seemed honest fellows enough, carrying their honesty so far as not to broach the wine until I gave them leave. On this they helped themselves freely, showing as great a capacity for drinking as for walking. Never had I seen such marchers. Albeit their rifles were heavy, weighing, as I judged, fifteen or sixteen pounds apiece, and every man carried six days' provision in addition to powder and shot, they tramped steadily on up hill and down dale at the rate of at least a league an hour, taking only one hour for rest and refreshment the whole day. It was all I could do to keep up with them, though I was in good form and not heavily laden.

Poor Hans had to take an occasional lift on the mule, whose burden had been considerably lightened by the drawings of our captors. They seldom addressed me directly, but by listening attentively to their jargon, which differs no more from High German than broad Scottish differs from London English, I made out that their destination was Sterzing, where they expected to find the Sandwirt, who was to decide my fate. I wished nothing better. If, as I presumed, he was one of their officers, I could easily show him that I was a true man, and no spy. Moreover, Sterzing was on the road to Passeir, where dwelt Andreas Hofer, with whom I greatly desired an interview. After the halt for dinner, marked by a further lighten ing of the casks, we crossed the Valserjoch by a track so steep and rough that I was terribly afraid we should have to leave the mule and his load behind.

But no true Tyroler lightly abandons good wine, either to friend or foe, and by dint of pushing, pulling, and a good deal of swearing, we got him to the top of the pass. The descent was comparatively easy, and we presently found ourselves in a highway, bordered by a brawling stream, so hemmed in by precipitous rocks that in the narrower parts there was barely room for both. We were in the Eisack valley and the Brenner road. 'What a fine defensive position!' I thought. 'A handful might hold it against a host.' But little did I think that before many days had passed I should see the Eisack red with blood, and on this very ground take part in the most famous fight of a war abounding in great deeds and heroic achievements.

Chapter III. The Sandwirt

The leader of the party was Corporal Kaltwasser, the man with the sword, a gray-bearded, gnarled old warrior who had served in many campaigns and been a prisoner in France. At the outset he was rough and stern, but as the day waned and the wine got into his head his manner improved, and he condescended to an occasional observation in comprehensible German, mentioning amongst other things that there was going to be a big muster of ' shooters ' at Sterzing, as I had already guessed, for we were continually falling in with contingents of armed peasants, with whom our fellows exchanged boisterous greetings. Shortly before reaching our destination we passed a moor where at least three thousand men were bivouack ing, and, as they had neither tents nor waggons, I concluded that it was the habit of Tyrolese volunteers to sleep a la belle etoile, and carry both their provant and their ammunition on their backs — in some respects an admirable arrangement, yet open to the rather serious objection that when the provant is done and the powder runs short the army melts.