In this extremity there flashed into his mind the thought of Ogo’s axe. Two paces brought him to the tree; and his hand sought and found the projecting handle. His enemies were in no hurry: they approached with a stealthy relentlessness. He heard Noke yelling: ‘Catch un, lads! Catch ’em both, and truss ’em up.’ And the eldest of the sons closed in upon him. The sudden rush took him by surprise; and, having no room in which to swing his axe, he thrust it savagely at the hostile face. The clutching hands relaxed their grip, and the man staggered back with a scream. Two others were within a yard of Seth, but now he was shouting with the madness of battle and his weapon had free play. A third man leaped upon his back, caught at his throat, and struggled to disarm him. The two fell backwards; other bodies came hurtling upon them. A writhing mass of bodies, a many-headed monster, heaved and plunged upon the ground, kicking with its ten legs and growling with all its mouths. But even in this tangle of ferocity Seth somehow retained his weapon; and presently, as it seemed by a miracle, he had wriggled free of the mass and was running this way and that, uncertain of his ground. He was victorious so far, but he had still to find Charity; and now they were at him again. The foremost man came recklessly, blind with animal rage. Seth’s axe caught him on the jaw. ‘Lay hold on un, can’t ye!’ cried Noke. ‘By cripes, if I’d a pair of legs I’d shew ye!’ But the man with the smashed jaw fell and lay moaning in the grass, within a few yards of his wounded brother; and the two that remained standing seemed for a moment daunted, unwilling to come within reach of that murderous axe. Seth, now swollen with the gross pride of his victory, was ready and eager for them. ‘Come on then,’ he cried. ‘Come and take un who can. Come on then, my brave cockies, and daun’t be so countable shy. Rackon tis wenches you’d rather be fighten.’ His slow, loud, mocking drawl had more than a hint of Noke in its quality; and Noke, even in the height of his impotent anger, pricked up his ears, recognizing a kinship of spirit. For an instant he came near to admiration of this young crowing fighter, and lusted the more bitterly for his defeat. Again he urged his sons to it, but they still hung back, muttering and grumbling. ‘Better see to y’r father,’ drawled Seth contemptuously. ‘I rackon he’ve catched hurt. And y’r brothers too, seemingly. Go along then,’ he added, more friendly. ‘I’ll not bite ye again till ye beg for un.’ But now, having time for reflection, his mind was busy with wondering where Charity was. To find her: that was the next thing. With all his heart, his angry exultant heart, he wished she were at his side, to crown and share his triumph. She was his prize; he had fairly won her; and now he was resolved that nothing should cheat him of possessing her for his own. No one could stop him: not her father, not her brothers, not all the world. The world indeed would be with him, for these Noke men were notoriously queer: savage, industrious, secret in their ways, regarding all their neighbours with suspicion. To snatch the girl from such a home—and a fine sweet girl, as anyone could see—would be held a right and gallant thing; and her father’s opposition would count for nothing. She was old enough to choose, and she would choose him, Seth Shellett: he made no doubt of that. She was in his blood, and he in hers: they were already mated, and lacked only that blessing of the church which Parson Hockley would gladly pronounce, and Squire Marden benevolently approve (for Seth knew himself to be something of a favourite with both). Fighting had roused all that was masterful and sanguine in his spirit: he was a different man from the slow-minded ineffectual fellow who had been pleading with Charity only a few hours before. He was glad that his love had been discovered, so that henceforth he could move openly and irresistibly to his heart’s desire. ‘Ay, you daun’t trust me then, be that ut?’ He was feeling much friendlier now, ready to forgive everybody; and in this new mood it hurt him a little to see that while one of the unwounded sons was bending over his fallen comrades, the other still warily watched their dangerous quarry, as if expecting a new attack. Seth, returning the stare, said no more. He had something to say yet, to the old man: but twould be time enough for that when he had Charity safe. He ached now for the sight and touch of her.
A boy’s clear voice rang out behind him.
‘Lookee here, Seth Shellett!’ Seth, startled though he was, turned but half-way. So there was yet another on ’em, was there? He suspected some new trick.
‘What now then?’ he asked, truculently, over his shoulder.
On Harry Noke, who still lay wincing and watching in the grass, the effect of this interruption was dynamic. An old and disregarded memory began stammering in his mind, and a forgotten woman sprang into life. Seth Shellett, the lad had said. For an instant he became deaf and blind to his surroundings, and thoughts crowded intimately upon him. Tisha Bailey’s son, Seth Shellett. He struggled into a sitting posture, and called upon his daughter in a new voice.
‘Lookeehere, Seth Shellett,’ repeated the youngest son, disregarding his father’s outcry. ‘I baint frouden of you. And I daun’t mean ee no harm. ‘If you ’tend right by Cis, we can call cousins together, me and you. But I baint frouden of you, so you maun’t think ut.’
Seth, in a quick glance (for he dared not trust a fellow that dared not trust him), saw, standing five yards behind him, the youth from whom these bold ingenuous words proceeded. Slim and slight, a mere boy, he stood bravely, with his shovel held firmly in both hands ready for battle. His features were indistinguishable in the dim light, but his general aspect, no less than his speech, was heartening.
‘Good boy!’ said Seth. ‘That be talken sense, I’ll ’low.’ He lowered his own weapon and moved sideways towards this unexpected ally. When he came near the boy, and could see his young stern face, he felt a quick friendliness stir in him and was moved to speak his heart. ‘I ’tend right by her, boy. Gogzoons I do. I be gwain marry her, tellee. We’ll have a laamentable pretty cottage to live in, and all manner.’
‘Then you’d best take she away drackly-minute,’ answered the youngest son, friend to friend. ‘Father’ll kill un if he gets un home.’
‘Ay,’ said Seth, in low urgent tones. ‘And you too, haply. Come away along o’ me and I’ll hide the both of ye.’
The boy’s eyes lit with pleasure, but there was no more chance of talk; for now Noke called again upon his daughter, and with such urgency, in a tone that seemed so innocent of menace, that Charity at last came out of hiding. During the past few minutes she had suffered a hundred pains of fear, indecision, and divided loyalty. She had seen her father and two brothers struck down, and, though at first she had welcomed it, the sight terrified her. She was distraught, and drawn by a revulsion of feeling, a flood of childish associations, towards her own men: especially towards the man who had fathered and sheltered her. Yet even now she exulted in the possession of Seth, and could not bear to think him lost to her. In the violence of this conflict within her, this bewildering riot of irreconcilables, she all but lost sense of the secret she dreaded to hear told. She came slowly back, with sulky drooping head, to where her father awaited her. And at sight of her, the young brother sprang forward and placed himself protectively at her side.
‘Ah!’ said Harry Noke. With difficulty and pain he at last struggled to his feet. But his ankle failed him and he staggered, and the boy jumped forward to his support. ‘That’s right, sonny. Gimme y’r shoulder. Now, Charity Noke. What be atwixt you and Seth Shellett then? Tell me that.’ The girl did not answer. ‘Hi, Shellett, come you here. We maun get this straight.’