CHAPTER XXI
WHEN THE CAPTAIN CALLED
It was broad daylight, and once more the fire of muskets was sputtering along the walls of Monksfield, when at last Dick Fowell opened his eyes. He looked at Merrylips, and smiled, and when he smiled, his face grew boyish and winning.
"So!" said he. "Thou, at least, wert real, and not a phantom in those black dreams where I was laboring. Thou hast been at my side the livelong night?"
Merrylips nodded. She gave him the flasket, which still held a little of the wine and water, and the bread which was in her pocket, and she sat by him, while he propped himself on his elbow and ate and drank.
"I saw thee yesterday," said Fowell, presently.
"In the courtyard," answered Merrylips, in a low voice. "When Miles Digby—he tried to make me, but I didn't! I didn't!"
"I remember," said Fowell, and his eyes narrowed at the memory. "Child, what brought thee, bred among such as Digby, to succor me last night?"
Merrylips swallowed a lump in her throat before she could answer. Now that she heard Fowell speak in that firm voice, she no longer felt that she was protecting him. Instead she felt little and weary, and herself in sore need of his protection.
"It was—because of my brother," she whispered at last. "They made him prisoner, there at Loxford. I hope—perchance—some one had pity on him."
She was angry that it should be so, but as she thought of Munn, helpless and ill-treated, perhaps, as Fowell had been, she felt the tears gather upon her lashes.
At that Fowell sat up quickly, though he made a wry face at the effort that it cost him. He put his arm about her, and spoke as gently as one of her own Cavalier friends could have spoken.
"Cheerly, my lad! Tell me the name of this brother of thine, and when I come clear of Monksfield, I promise thee I'll do my best endeavor to seek him out and requite him for thy tenderness."
She whispered the name, "Munn Venner," and she felt the start of surprise that Fowell gave.
"Venner?" said he. "Sure, thou art never one of the Venners of Walsover? Then by all that's marvellous I knew thine eldest brother, Tom Venner, two years agone at New College. A proper merry lad he was! And thou art a brother of Tom's! Thou must be the little one he called Flip, though I had judged him to be older."
Merrylips answered neither yes nor no. She hoped it was no fib to let Dick Fowell think that she was her brother Flip, and not a little girl. Whatever happened, she must keep the secret that Munn had bidden her to keep. But she thought it no harm, in answer to Fowell's questions, to tell him how she had dwelt in Will Lowry's household at Larkland and had come to Monksfield by Munn's aid. Indeed she was glad to talk with Fowell. He seemed like an old friend, since he had known her brother Longkin at Oxford.
But soon Dick Fowell said: "I'm loath to part with thee, little truepenny, but haply thy gentle friends in garrison will not be over-pleased at the company thou art keeping here. Were it not best thou shouldst slip hence and leave me?"
Merrylips hesitated, and then he added, smiling:—
"Have no fear, child! Lieutenant Digby and I will do each other no mortal damage."
Merrylips feared that her next question was uncivil, but she had to put it. Point-blank she asked:—
"Why doth Lieutenant Digby hate you so?"
"A long tale," said Fowell, and frowned, though perhaps it was only with the pain of his hurt head.
"We Fowells," he went on, "dwell neighbors to the Digbys yonder in Berkshire, and since my grandfather's time, faith, there hath been little love lost between us. There was at first a dispute over some lands, and then a plenty of wrongs and insults,—on both sides, no doubt. As little lads, Miles Digby and I came more than once to fisticuffs. And then, two years agone, he shot my dog that ran at my heels, vowing that I did trespass on his father's lands. For that I gave him such a trouncing as it seemeth he hath not forgot."
The arm that Fowell had laid about Merrylips tightened in a grip that almost hurt her.
"I do forgive him what happened yesterday," Fowell said, as if he found it hard to say. "But I hope the Lord in His goodness may let me meet him once again when I wear a sword!"
Scarcely had Fowell uttered this pious wish, when there came a clattering of the bolt in the door of the wash-house.
"'Tis Digby!" cried Merrylips, and felt herself half choked with the beating of her heart.
But it was not the lieutenant, whom she feared for Dick Fowell's sake. It was a corporal and a couple of troopers who had come to fetch the prisoner to Captain Norris. They were in great haste. They seemed scarcely to notice or to care that she was in the wash-house. But for all their haste, she saw that they were sullenly civil toward Lieutenant Fowell, and they even helped him to walk away. He needed help, for in spite of all that he could do, he staggered as soon as he stood upon his feet.
When Dick Fowell had been led away, Merrylips went slowly out into the courtyard. She felt faint and cold, and she was almost trembling at the thought that her old friends all would scorn and hate her, because she had helped a Roundhead. But she found the garrison too tired with the hours of fighting that were past, and too busy with making ready for the fight that was to come, to pay much attention to one small lad or wonder where he had spent the hours of the night.
Ever since daybreak, she learned, there had been hard fighting, and many men had been killed and wounded. Cornet Slanning had been shot through the leg, and Lieutenant Crashaw, who had led out a sallying party, had been cut off from the garrison and made prisoner.
It was because of this that Captain Norris had sent for Dick Fowell, and the guards were treating him civilly. Colonel Hatcher was offering to exchange Lieutenant Crashaw for his brother-in-law, Dick Fowell, and so sorely did the Monksfield garrison need officers that Captain Norris had agreed to the exchange.
So white flags had been hung out on either side, and the firing stopped. Presently, about noontime, Dick Fowell was put on a horse and taken outside the gates of Monksfield, where he should be handed over to his own men. Merrylips' eyes met his, as he was riding forth. He did not speak, or even smile upon her, but she guessed that he did this out of caution, lest any show of friendliness from him, a Roundhead, should do her harm among the Cavaliers.
Half an hour later Eustace Crashaw was once more within the walls of Monksfield. He was very grave of face, and he stammered more than ever as he told Captain Norris the number of men and the store of ammunition that the rebels had with them. Colonel Hatcher had shown all to him, in bravado, and bidden him tell his captain that, thus furnished, they meant to sit there till they had reduced the garrison.
When Captain Norris heard this, he bit his mustaches. He looked so stern that Merrylips, who had stolen near, hoped with all her heart that he would never learn how she had helped the brother-in-law of this boastful Colonel Hatcher.
Soon the guns were cracking again, all along the walls, but to-day Merrylips had no wish to go upon the ramparts and see men hurt and slain. She was turning away to the great house, when whom should she meet but Rupert. She was glad to see him, for she remembered how friendly they had been, only the day before. She halted, and would have spoken, but she saw that he was scowling upon her in his old way.
"How is it with thee, little sister?" he jeered.
Merrylips thought that now surely he had hit upon her secret. She was so frightened that she could only stare at him without speaking.
"I thought thou hadst mettle in thee, for a young one," Rupert went on. "But to go sneaking away and coddle a vile rebel, only for that he had come by a bump in the head, as he well had merited! Tibbott Venner, thou art no better than a girl!"
In her relief that she was not yet found out, Merrylips did not care what she said.
"Then is a girl a better gentleman than thou, thou horseboy!" she answered back. "And I be glad that I am like a girl!"
So saying, she trudged away to her own chamber. There she put on a fresh shirt, and then she fumbled in the hole in her mattress and drew out the silver ring that had been Lady Sybil's. She hung it about her neck on a cord, within her shirt, just as she had used to wear it. It was like a girl to wear it so, and she wanted to remember always that she was indeed a girl.
While she sat fingering the ring, she felt that she did not care what Rupert or the Monksfield garrison thought of her. She knew that she had done what Lady Sybil would have wished a tender-hearted little maid to do. But as the afternoon passed, and the room grew dark, and the rebel watchfires kindled on the hills, she began to think how far away was Lady Sybil, and how near were the Monksfield garrison. And since Rupert knew that she had helped their captive enemy, all the garrison must know, and surely all would cease to be her friends.
As she was thinking thus, and remembering the stern face that Captain Norris had worn, she heard a knock upon her door. When she called, "Come!" there appeared on the threshold a slender figure that she knew could be only Rupert's.
He spoke in a formal, dry voice.
"I am sent to find you, Master Venner. Captain Norris hath a word to say unto you."
Within her shirt Merrylips clutched at the silver ring and tried to take courage.
"The captain—is fain to speak with me?" she faltered.
"Ay," said Rupert. "Now—this moment. Come! He waiteth for you."