Chapter Eighteen.Royland Castle after its Growl.Lady Royland received the news calmly enough, and was the first to allude to the flag, which she said would be, though unfinished, suitable enough to hoist whenever her son thought it right to do so.“The sooner, then, the better, I should say, mother,” cried Roy. “Let them see it waving when they come near.”“By all means, my boy. I am glad to find that you have everything in so good a state of preparation. The guns startled me a little, but I expected to hear them some time. Do you think the men will prove true and come in?”“True, mother? Yes, of course.”A few minutes later Roy came out with the silken flag hanging in folds across his arm like a cloak, and hurried to where Ben and the three troopers were busy loading the two guns, run out now into the gate-way so as to command the road from each side of the raised bridge.The men were all armed, and a look of excitement was in every face, notably in that of Farmer Raynes, who was fidgeting about and looking anxious.Roy handed the flag to Ben, who took it proudly, and nodded his satisfaction.“You’ll come up and be there at the hoisting, sir?” he said.“Of course. Yes—what is it?”“Master Pawson, sir,” whispered the old soldier, with a laugh; “we managed to wake him up at last.”Roy smiled and went to where the farmer stood, watching him anxiously, and finally making a sign to him to come.“Want to speak to me, Master Raynes?” he said.“Yes, sir; I’m in agonies about my men. They’ll be coming along soon and falling into a trap, for some of those troopers will be hanging about the road.”“Yes, this is serious,” said Roy, who grasped the difficulties of the reinforcements he hoped soon to receive.Ben was called into counsel, and his suggestion was that the guns on the four towers should be manned ready to cover the advance of the friends, and keep back the enemy.“Mounted men’s orders are to keep clear of cannon-shot all they can, sir; and now, if you please, I should like you to arm all the people necessary, while I see to the ammunition.”This order was carried out, and the flag taken up into the furnace-chamber, just below where the new flag-staff with halyard had been erected against the staircase turret.In a very short time all was ready, so far as so small a force was available, and four men kept ready in the chamber prepared to lower the bridge as soon as any friends approached, when it was to be kept down till the coming of strangers rendered it necessary that it should be raised again.Ten minutes had not elapsed before a shout from the north-east tower was heard, and Roy turned in the direction pointed out by one of the men, to see a little party of four men who, in obedience to the signal, were advancing at a trot from the direction of the village.The bridge was lowered, the portcullis raised, and, as the men came hurrying across, they were received with a hearty cheer from the tiny garrison.The bridge being down and the portcullis raised, the state of preparation was deemed sufficient to warrant their remaining so, as no enemy was in sight; but the precaution was taken of having the port-fires ready and each gun in the gate-way manned so as to sweep the approach.Another shout announced fresh arrivals, men coming up in twos and threes, every arrival sending a thrill of satisfaction through the young castellan’s breast as he felt his strength increase, till only two parties were not accounted for,—six men from the mill and the ten from the farm.“A terrible loss they would be, Ben,” said Roy, as he swept the country from the highest point of the tower, and without effect. “Raynes wants to go in search of them.”“Then don’t let him, sir. We can’t spare him. Mightn’t be able to come back. Wait a bit; they’ve all got some distance to come. Give ’em time.”“But they might have been here by now.”“Ay, they might, sir,” said Ben, drily.“Ha! you think they are afraid, now it comes to the pinch.”“Nay, sir, not yet. They may have a good way round to go to ’scape the enemy, for I dare say they’re beginning to occupy the roads. I’m most anxious about the farm lads, for they’re nighest to where the enemy are.—Hi! there! Look! look!”Ben had turned his head in a different direction to that in which the men from the mill might have been expected to come; and there, altogether, running in a group, six figures could be seen evidently making for the castle, while a party of a dozen horsemen suddenly rode into sight from behind a copse about a quarter of a mile away, and cantered across as if to head the men off.“Now, sir, quick! Tell ’em yonder to make ready and wait. The corporal’s there, and he’ll know what to do.”Roy shouted the orders to the south-west tower, and the trooper-corporal answered loudly, and they saw him blow his port-fire.“Now, sir, wait a bit, till they get nigher. That’s it. Now, fire!”The race had been growing exciting, for the horsemen were increasing their pace as they came on with their weapons glittering in the sun, and it was plain enough that the runners must be cut off and taken prisoners, when just at the right moment Roy’s order rang out. There was a white puff from the tower, a heavy boom, the ball went whistling just over the heads of the horsemen, and a shout of triumphant derision arose from the towers, as, moved by the same spirit, the little troop wheeled round and went off at full gallop to get out of gunshot.“Another shot, men!”“Nay, sir, certainly not. That’s the young soldier speaking. What for? You might bowl over a horse or two, but what good would that do? You’ve done what you wanted, and sent ’em to the right-about, saved six of our lads, and at the same time showed those fellows that we’re on the lookout and don’t mean to stand any nonsense. That’s enough for one bullet, sir, eh?”“Splendid! my lads,” cried Roy, who leaned over the battlements, waving his hand to the panting and nearly exhausted men from the mill, who came at a steady trot now across the bridge, cheered loudly by all who could see them.Roy’s next thought was to go and tell Lady Royland all about the incident; but he felt that he must live up to his position, and be busy there in sight of his men; so, after watching the enemy’s horse till quite out of sight, he bade Ben keep a sharp lookout, and descended to hear the report of the party who had just come in.He found them in the guard-room, scarlet with exertion, and still panting from their long race, but evidently in high glee, Sam Donny, their spokesman, the young man who was put first to the front when they came to him, being full of their adventures,—how the troopers had passed the mill three times that morning, and stopped twice to demand corn for their steeds and water, their leader watching the miller’s men curiously as if suspicious of them.“But they went off at last, sir. Let’s see: they come agen, though, twice after we’d heard the guns, and that kep’ us back. Last of all, I says to t’others, ‘Now for it, lads, or young Captin Roy’ll be thinking we’re feared to come.’ They says, ‘That’s so,’ and off we starts; but we hadn’t gone far ’fore we finds they’re on the road, and we had to run back and make for Water Lane. Hadn’t gone far ’long Water Lane, when we finds a couple of ’em there. Back we goes again, and creeps along aside one of the fields, and there they was again, and dozens of ’em on the watch, as if some one had told ’em we was likely to come over here. Then we all goes back to the mill and talks it over, and some on us says as we’d better stop till night; but I says, ‘Nay! They’ll think we’re all cowards, and get shooting at us if we comes in the dark,’ and at last we said we’d go two miles round by the common. And so we did, sir, crawling on our stummicks in and out among the furze bushes, and every now and then seeing the sun shine on one of their caps as they rode here and there.“Last of all, sir, they seemed to have gone away, and I lifts up my head and looks about. ‘All clear, mates!’ I says, and up we gets, keeping as far off as we could, so as to work round. ‘We’ve done ’em this time,’ I says, as we went on, and we was coming along splendid, till Bob Herries happens to look back, and, ‘Run, lads,’ he says; ‘here they come arter us!’ I was for hiding, sir, but there was no chance, so we all run our best, with the castle here seeming a long way off; but we got nigher and nigher, and so did they; and they’d ha’ cut us off if it hadn’t been for that gun—though we all thought the next shot might hit us.”“You did bravely, my lads,” cried Roy. “But tell me, what about the men from the farm?”“What! aren’t they here, sir?” said the man.“No; we’ve seen nothing of them.”“Well, I am glad, then, that we aren’t the last,” said the man, with a grin of satisfaction; but his face was serious directly. “I don’t quite mean that, sir. I mean I’m sorry they’re not here. Then some of those fellows must have took them. But what I want to know is, how could they tell we was a-coming to the castle?”“They must have noticed that you all had a military bearing, my lad. You are all very different to what you were when you came to join.”A look of pride beamed in the man’s face and was reflected in those of his companions, but he spoke out directly.“Well, we have tried to get to be soldiers, sir, hard; haven’t us, mates?”“Ay!” was growled in chorus.“Yes, you have done well,” cried Roy, “and I’m heartily glad to see you safely here.”
Lady Royland received the news calmly enough, and was the first to allude to the flag, which she said would be, though unfinished, suitable enough to hoist whenever her son thought it right to do so.
“The sooner, then, the better, I should say, mother,” cried Roy. “Let them see it waving when they come near.”
“By all means, my boy. I am glad to find that you have everything in so good a state of preparation. The guns startled me a little, but I expected to hear them some time. Do you think the men will prove true and come in?”
“True, mother? Yes, of course.”
A few minutes later Roy came out with the silken flag hanging in folds across his arm like a cloak, and hurried to where Ben and the three troopers were busy loading the two guns, run out now into the gate-way so as to command the road from each side of the raised bridge.
The men were all armed, and a look of excitement was in every face, notably in that of Farmer Raynes, who was fidgeting about and looking anxious.
Roy handed the flag to Ben, who took it proudly, and nodded his satisfaction.
“You’ll come up and be there at the hoisting, sir?” he said.
“Of course. Yes—what is it?”
“Master Pawson, sir,” whispered the old soldier, with a laugh; “we managed to wake him up at last.”
Roy smiled and went to where the farmer stood, watching him anxiously, and finally making a sign to him to come.
“Want to speak to me, Master Raynes?” he said.
“Yes, sir; I’m in agonies about my men. They’ll be coming along soon and falling into a trap, for some of those troopers will be hanging about the road.”
“Yes, this is serious,” said Roy, who grasped the difficulties of the reinforcements he hoped soon to receive.
Ben was called into counsel, and his suggestion was that the guns on the four towers should be manned ready to cover the advance of the friends, and keep back the enemy.
“Mounted men’s orders are to keep clear of cannon-shot all they can, sir; and now, if you please, I should like you to arm all the people necessary, while I see to the ammunition.”
This order was carried out, and the flag taken up into the furnace-chamber, just below where the new flag-staff with halyard had been erected against the staircase turret.
In a very short time all was ready, so far as so small a force was available, and four men kept ready in the chamber prepared to lower the bridge as soon as any friends approached, when it was to be kept down till the coming of strangers rendered it necessary that it should be raised again.
Ten minutes had not elapsed before a shout from the north-east tower was heard, and Roy turned in the direction pointed out by one of the men, to see a little party of four men who, in obedience to the signal, were advancing at a trot from the direction of the village.
The bridge was lowered, the portcullis raised, and, as the men came hurrying across, they were received with a hearty cheer from the tiny garrison.
The bridge being down and the portcullis raised, the state of preparation was deemed sufficient to warrant their remaining so, as no enemy was in sight; but the precaution was taken of having the port-fires ready and each gun in the gate-way manned so as to sweep the approach.
Another shout announced fresh arrivals, men coming up in twos and threes, every arrival sending a thrill of satisfaction through the young castellan’s breast as he felt his strength increase, till only two parties were not accounted for,—six men from the mill and the ten from the farm.
“A terrible loss they would be, Ben,” said Roy, as he swept the country from the highest point of the tower, and without effect. “Raynes wants to go in search of them.”
“Then don’t let him, sir. We can’t spare him. Mightn’t be able to come back. Wait a bit; they’ve all got some distance to come. Give ’em time.”
“But they might have been here by now.”
“Ay, they might, sir,” said Ben, drily.
“Ha! you think they are afraid, now it comes to the pinch.”
“Nay, sir, not yet. They may have a good way round to go to ’scape the enemy, for I dare say they’re beginning to occupy the roads. I’m most anxious about the farm lads, for they’re nighest to where the enemy are.—Hi! there! Look! look!”
Ben had turned his head in a different direction to that in which the men from the mill might have been expected to come; and there, altogether, running in a group, six figures could be seen evidently making for the castle, while a party of a dozen horsemen suddenly rode into sight from behind a copse about a quarter of a mile away, and cantered across as if to head the men off.
“Now, sir, quick! Tell ’em yonder to make ready and wait. The corporal’s there, and he’ll know what to do.”
Roy shouted the orders to the south-west tower, and the trooper-corporal answered loudly, and they saw him blow his port-fire.
“Now, sir, wait a bit, till they get nigher. That’s it. Now, fire!”
The race had been growing exciting, for the horsemen were increasing their pace as they came on with their weapons glittering in the sun, and it was plain enough that the runners must be cut off and taken prisoners, when just at the right moment Roy’s order rang out. There was a white puff from the tower, a heavy boom, the ball went whistling just over the heads of the horsemen, and a shout of triumphant derision arose from the towers, as, moved by the same spirit, the little troop wheeled round and went off at full gallop to get out of gunshot.
“Another shot, men!”
“Nay, sir, certainly not. That’s the young soldier speaking. What for? You might bowl over a horse or two, but what good would that do? You’ve done what you wanted, and sent ’em to the right-about, saved six of our lads, and at the same time showed those fellows that we’re on the lookout and don’t mean to stand any nonsense. That’s enough for one bullet, sir, eh?”
“Splendid! my lads,” cried Roy, who leaned over the battlements, waving his hand to the panting and nearly exhausted men from the mill, who came at a steady trot now across the bridge, cheered loudly by all who could see them.
Roy’s next thought was to go and tell Lady Royland all about the incident; but he felt that he must live up to his position, and be busy there in sight of his men; so, after watching the enemy’s horse till quite out of sight, he bade Ben keep a sharp lookout, and descended to hear the report of the party who had just come in.
He found them in the guard-room, scarlet with exertion, and still panting from their long race, but evidently in high glee, Sam Donny, their spokesman, the young man who was put first to the front when they came to him, being full of their adventures,—how the troopers had passed the mill three times that morning, and stopped twice to demand corn for their steeds and water, their leader watching the miller’s men curiously as if suspicious of them.
“But they went off at last, sir. Let’s see: they come agen, though, twice after we’d heard the guns, and that kep’ us back. Last of all, I says to t’others, ‘Now for it, lads, or young Captin Roy’ll be thinking we’re feared to come.’ They says, ‘That’s so,’ and off we starts; but we hadn’t gone far ’fore we finds they’re on the road, and we had to run back and make for Water Lane. Hadn’t gone far ’long Water Lane, when we finds a couple of ’em there. Back we goes again, and creeps along aside one of the fields, and there they was again, and dozens of ’em on the watch, as if some one had told ’em we was likely to come over here. Then we all goes back to the mill and talks it over, and some on us says as we’d better stop till night; but I says, ‘Nay! They’ll think we’re all cowards, and get shooting at us if we comes in the dark,’ and at last we said we’d go two miles round by the common. And so we did, sir, crawling on our stummicks in and out among the furze bushes, and every now and then seeing the sun shine on one of their caps as they rode here and there.
“Last of all, sir, they seemed to have gone away, and I lifts up my head and looks about. ‘All clear, mates!’ I says, and up we gets, keeping as far off as we could, so as to work round. ‘We’ve done ’em this time,’ I says, as we went on, and we was coming along splendid, till Bob Herries happens to look back, and, ‘Run, lads,’ he says; ‘here they come arter us!’ I was for hiding, sir, but there was no chance, so we all run our best, with the castle here seeming a long way off; but we got nigher and nigher, and so did they; and they’d ha’ cut us off if it hadn’t been for that gun—though we all thought the next shot might hit us.”
“You did bravely, my lads,” cried Roy. “But tell me, what about the men from the farm?”
“What! aren’t they here, sir?” said the man.
“No; we’ve seen nothing of them.”
“Well, I am glad, then, that we aren’t the last,” said the man, with a grin of satisfaction; but his face was serious directly. “I don’t quite mean that, sir. I mean I’m sorry they’re not here. Then some of those fellows must have took them. But what I want to know is, how could they tell we was a-coming to the castle?”
“They must have noticed that you all had a military bearing, my lad. You are all very different to what you were when you came to join.”
A look of pride beamed in the man’s face and was reflected in those of his companions, but he spoke out directly.
“Well, we have tried to get to be soldiers, sir, hard; haven’t us, mates?”
“Ay!” was growled in chorus.
“Yes, you have done well,” cried Roy, “and I’m heartily glad to see you safely here.”
Chapter Nineteen.The Young Castellan speaks out.The day passed anxiously on, and it was getting well towards sunset, but there was no sign of the farm men, neither did the enemy appear in sight. Farmer Raynes appealed to Roy again and again for permission to go in search of his people; but, anxious as the young castellan was for news, he could not risk losing one of the strongest and most dependable men he had.“They may get here yet, Master Raynes,” he said; “and I’d give anything to see them; but I’d rather lose the swords of all ten than lose yours.”“Mean that, Master Roy?” said the bluff farmer, looking at him searchingly.“Mean it? Of course!”“Thank ye, sir. Then I’ll stop; but I feel as if I’d failed you at a pinch by only coming alone.”“Then don’t think so again,” said Roy, “but help me all you can with the men, for I’m afraid we are going to have a hard fight to save the place.”“Oh, we’ll save it, sir. Don’t you fear about that,” said Raynes; and he went away to join Ben and talk about the chances of the party reaching the castle.In the guard-room the matter was also eagerly discussed; for the help of ten sturdy lads was badly needed, as all knew. Sam Donny, who was rather inflated by the success which had attended him and his companions that day, gave it as his opinion that the labourers had been taken prisoners solely because they had not thought to go down and crawl as he and his companions had that day.Roy had hurriedly snatched a couple of meals, and tried to cheer his mother about their prospects, but to his surprise, he found that she was ready to try and console him about the loss of ten good strong men.“But do you think they have thought better of it, and are afraid to come in?” said Master Pawson at their hurried dinner.“No, I do not,” said Roy. “I will not insult the poor fellows by thinking they could be such curs.”“Quite right, Roy,” said the secretary, eagerly. “I was wrong. I’m afraid I understand books better than I do men. Yes; they must have been taken prisoners, I’m afraid.”The evening meal had just been commenced when there was a shout from one of the towers.Roy hurried out, full of hope that the ten men had been descried; but he was soon undeceived, for on mounting to his favourite post of observation it was to see that a long line of horseman was approaching from the direction of Dendry Town, the orange sunlight making their arms glitter as they came gently on, spreading out to a great length, till at last Ben gave it as his opinion that there were at least five hundred men.Hardly had he come to this conclusion when another body of men was descried approaching from the east, and in the face of this danger the drawbridge was raised, the portcullis lowered, and a trumpet-call summoned the men to the guns.“They mean it then to-night, Ben,” said Roy, whose heart now beat fast, and he turned to the old soldier, who, with a grim look of pride in his face, was affixing the silken flag to the rope, ready for hauling up when the enemy drew near.Before Ben could reply, to Roy’s surprise, Lady Royland came up the spiral stairs, and stepped out upon the leads, followed by Master Pawson, who looked sallow of aspect, but perfectly calm.“You here, mother?”“Yes, my boy; and why should I not be? I am visiting all the towers to thank the men for their brave conduct in coming here for our defence. How many do you muster now?”“Thirty-six only,” replied Roy.“Well, thirty-six brave men are better than five hundred cowards.—How many men do you think there are coming against us, Martlet?”“Seven or eight hundred, my lady.”“And will they attack this evening?”“No, my lady; they don’t come to attack strongholds with mounted men. They’re coming to call upon us to throw open the gates and surrender the place; and this is the answer, I think, my lady, is it not?” and he pointed to the flag.“Yes, Martlet,” said Lady Royland, flushing; “that is our answer to such an insolent demand.”She turned and left the tower, attended by Master Pawson, and Roy remained there watching the long line of mounted men approaching with their arms glittering in the light. “Seven or eight hundred,” he said, half aloud, “against thirty-six.”“Haven’t counted the guns, Master Roy, nor the moat, nor the towers, nor all the other strong things we have. Pah! what’s a regiment of horse against a place like this? But they know, and they’re only coming to bully us, sir.”“I hope you are right, Ben,” said the lad, seriously; and he waited for the approach of the men till they were halted about a couple of hundred yards away from the tower on which he stood, forming up in squadrons; and after a time an officer, bearing a little white flag, advanced, followed at a short distance by a couple of troopers. Roy’s heart beat fast, for he felt that a crucial time had come.“You’ll have to go down, Master Roy; and we must lower the bridge for you to go out and meet him and hear what he has to say.”“Must I, Ben?”“Of course, sir; and, if you give the order, the corporal and I will come behind you as your guard.”“And suppose, when the bridge is down, the others make a rush?”“Flag o’ truce, sir. But if they did, our guns would sweep ’em away.”“And what about us, Ben?”“Well, sir,” said the old fellow, drily, “we should be swep’ away too.”“I say, Ben!”“Yes, sir, sounds nasty; but soldiers has to take their chance o’ that sort o’ thing, and look at the honour and glory of it all. Ready, sir?”“Yes,” said Roy, in a husky voice; and a minute later he stood with the two martial-looking figures behind, and the drawbridge slowly descended in front. The two guns were manned, a small guard of three was behind each, and the port-fires sparkled and shot tiny little flashes of fire as if eager to burst out into flame.Just then, as Roy was watching the heads of the three mounted men coming slowly forward, and, as the end of the bridge sank, seeing their chests, the horses’ heads, and finally their legs come into sight, Ben leaned towards him, and said, in a whisper—“They don’t know how young you are, sir. Let ’em hear my dear old colonel speaking with your lips.”“Yes,” said Roy, huskily; “but what am I to say, Ben?”“You don’t want no telling, sir. Advance now.”The officer had halted his men about fifty yards from the outer gate, and rode forward a few paces before drawing rein and waiting for some action on the part of those he had come to see; and he looked rather surprised as they stepped forward now, crossed the bridge, and advanced to meet him. For he had not anticipated to find such careful preparations, nor to see the personage who came to meet him in so perfect a military trim, and supported by a couple of soldiers whose bearing was regular to a degree.The officer was a grim, stern, hard-looking, middle-aged man, and his garb and breastplate were of the commonest and plainest description. He seemed to glance with something like contempt at the elegantly fluted and embossed armour the boy was wearing, and, above all, at the gay sash Lady Royland’s loving hands had fastened across his breast. But his attention was keen as he scanned the soldierly bearing of Ben and the corporal, and a feeling of envy filled his breast as he compared them with his own rough following. Perhaps he would not have thought so much if he had seen the rest of the garrison, but they were too distant.Roy saluted the officer, and drew a deep breath as he tried to string up his nerves till they were stretched like a bow. For Ben’s words had gone home, and he felt fully how big a part he had to play.The officer saluted in response in a quick, abrupt manner, and said shortly:“I come from the general commanding the army here in the west, to demand that you give up peaceable possession of this castle, once the property of the rebel, Sir Granby Royland, who is now in arms against the Parliament of England.”Roy gave a start at the word “rebel,” and felt the hot blood rise to his cheeks. That insult acted like a spur. The nervous trepidation had gone, for there was no room for it alongside of the anger which flashed through him. Ben was right: the boy knew what to say. It was there ready, and only wanted bringing out.“Look here, sir!” he cried, sharply; “you come here under a flag of truce to deliver a message, but that does not warrant insolence.”“Insolence?” said the officer, sternly.“Yes. I hold no parley with a man who dares to call my father, King Charles’s faithful servant, a rebel.”“Then go back, boy, and send your mother to make the arrangement for handing over the keys of the castle,” said the officer, with a smile of contempt, “for I suppose the Dame Royland is here.”“Lady Royland is here, sir; and I, her son, tell you to inform your rebel general that we here recognise no authority but that of his majesty the king, and that we consider it a piece of insolent braggadocio for him to send such a demand.”“Indeed!” said the officer, laughing. “Well crowed, young game-cock!”“Yes,” muttered Ben; “and you mind his spurs.”“Have you anything more to say?” cried Roy.“Yes; a good deal, my boy, and I will not notice your young, hot-blooded words. You have allowed your men to perform an act this morning that may mean serious consequences for you.”“I do not understand your meaning, sir.”“Yes, you do, boy,” said the officer, sternly. “You allowed your men to fire upon a picket of our cavalry.”“Of course. You allowed your cavalry, as you term them, to try and ride down six unarmed men on their way to the castle, and I gave orders for them to be stopped, and they were stopped.”“I have no time to argue these things with you, sir. I have only this to say: if you give up the keys to me at once, your people can disperse unharmed to their homes, and Dame Royland and her son can depart with such personal effects as she desires, to go wherever she pleases, and an escort will be provided for her protection.”“And, if she declines this offer, sir, as my father’s steward of his estates and possessions?”“Your father has neither estate nor possessions now, my boy; he is a proclaimed rebel. If this kindly offer is refused, and you are both so weak and vain as to resist, the place will be battered down and left in ruins, while the sufferings and slaughter of your people will be at your door. Now, sir, briefly, what message am I to take back to the commanding officer?”“God save the king!” cried Roy, warmly.“That is no answer, sir—only the vain cry of an enthusiastic, misled boy. What am I to say to the general in chief?”“That Lady Royland will hold Royland Castle in the king’s name as long as one stone stands upon another, and she has a brave following to fight.”The officer raised his hand in salute, turned his horse and rode back, while Roy stood there with his heart throbbing as he watched the three figures depart, and wondered whether it was really he who had spoken, or all this scene in the deepening evening were part of a feverish dream.He was brought back to the present by the deep gruff voice of Ben.“There, sir,” he said, with a look of pride at the boy in whose training he had had so large a share, “I knew you could.”At the same moment Roy glanced at the corporal, who smiled and saluted him proudly.“I only wish, sir,” he said, “that the colonel had been here.”Roy turned to recross the bridge, feeling as if, in spite of all, this was part of a dream, when something on high began to flutter over the great gate tower, and glancing up, it was to see there in front, gazing down at them as she leaned forward in one of the embrasures, Lady Royland.“What is it to be, Roy?” she cried, as he came closer. “Peace or war?”“War!” he replied, sternly; and the sound seemed to be whispered in many tones through the great archway as the portcullis fell with its heavy clang and the drawbridge began to rise.
The day passed anxiously on, and it was getting well towards sunset, but there was no sign of the farm men, neither did the enemy appear in sight. Farmer Raynes appealed to Roy again and again for permission to go in search of his people; but, anxious as the young castellan was for news, he could not risk losing one of the strongest and most dependable men he had.
“They may get here yet, Master Raynes,” he said; “and I’d give anything to see them; but I’d rather lose the swords of all ten than lose yours.”
“Mean that, Master Roy?” said the bluff farmer, looking at him searchingly.
“Mean it? Of course!”
“Thank ye, sir. Then I’ll stop; but I feel as if I’d failed you at a pinch by only coming alone.”
“Then don’t think so again,” said Roy, “but help me all you can with the men, for I’m afraid we are going to have a hard fight to save the place.”
“Oh, we’ll save it, sir. Don’t you fear about that,” said Raynes; and he went away to join Ben and talk about the chances of the party reaching the castle.
In the guard-room the matter was also eagerly discussed; for the help of ten sturdy lads was badly needed, as all knew. Sam Donny, who was rather inflated by the success which had attended him and his companions that day, gave it as his opinion that the labourers had been taken prisoners solely because they had not thought to go down and crawl as he and his companions had that day.
Roy had hurriedly snatched a couple of meals, and tried to cheer his mother about their prospects, but to his surprise, he found that she was ready to try and console him about the loss of ten good strong men.
“But do you think they have thought better of it, and are afraid to come in?” said Master Pawson at their hurried dinner.
“No, I do not,” said Roy. “I will not insult the poor fellows by thinking they could be such curs.”
“Quite right, Roy,” said the secretary, eagerly. “I was wrong. I’m afraid I understand books better than I do men. Yes; they must have been taken prisoners, I’m afraid.”
The evening meal had just been commenced when there was a shout from one of the towers.
Roy hurried out, full of hope that the ten men had been descried; but he was soon undeceived, for on mounting to his favourite post of observation it was to see that a long line of horseman was approaching from the direction of Dendry Town, the orange sunlight making their arms glitter as they came gently on, spreading out to a great length, till at last Ben gave it as his opinion that there were at least five hundred men.
Hardly had he come to this conclusion when another body of men was descried approaching from the east, and in the face of this danger the drawbridge was raised, the portcullis lowered, and a trumpet-call summoned the men to the guns.
“They mean it then to-night, Ben,” said Roy, whose heart now beat fast, and he turned to the old soldier, who, with a grim look of pride in his face, was affixing the silken flag to the rope, ready for hauling up when the enemy drew near.
Before Ben could reply, to Roy’s surprise, Lady Royland came up the spiral stairs, and stepped out upon the leads, followed by Master Pawson, who looked sallow of aspect, but perfectly calm.
“You here, mother?”
“Yes, my boy; and why should I not be? I am visiting all the towers to thank the men for their brave conduct in coming here for our defence. How many do you muster now?”
“Thirty-six only,” replied Roy.
“Well, thirty-six brave men are better than five hundred cowards.—How many men do you think there are coming against us, Martlet?”
“Seven or eight hundred, my lady.”
“And will they attack this evening?”
“No, my lady; they don’t come to attack strongholds with mounted men. They’re coming to call upon us to throw open the gates and surrender the place; and this is the answer, I think, my lady, is it not?” and he pointed to the flag.
“Yes, Martlet,” said Lady Royland, flushing; “that is our answer to such an insolent demand.”
She turned and left the tower, attended by Master Pawson, and Roy remained there watching the long line of mounted men approaching with their arms glittering in the light. “Seven or eight hundred,” he said, half aloud, “against thirty-six.”
“Haven’t counted the guns, Master Roy, nor the moat, nor the towers, nor all the other strong things we have. Pah! what’s a regiment of horse against a place like this? But they know, and they’re only coming to bully us, sir.”
“I hope you are right, Ben,” said the lad, seriously; and he waited for the approach of the men till they were halted about a couple of hundred yards away from the tower on which he stood, forming up in squadrons; and after a time an officer, bearing a little white flag, advanced, followed at a short distance by a couple of troopers. Roy’s heart beat fast, for he felt that a crucial time had come.
“You’ll have to go down, Master Roy; and we must lower the bridge for you to go out and meet him and hear what he has to say.”
“Must I, Ben?”
“Of course, sir; and, if you give the order, the corporal and I will come behind you as your guard.”
“And suppose, when the bridge is down, the others make a rush?”
“Flag o’ truce, sir. But if they did, our guns would sweep ’em away.”
“And what about us, Ben?”
“Well, sir,” said the old fellow, drily, “we should be swep’ away too.”
“I say, Ben!”
“Yes, sir, sounds nasty; but soldiers has to take their chance o’ that sort o’ thing, and look at the honour and glory of it all. Ready, sir?”
“Yes,” said Roy, in a husky voice; and a minute later he stood with the two martial-looking figures behind, and the drawbridge slowly descended in front. The two guns were manned, a small guard of three was behind each, and the port-fires sparkled and shot tiny little flashes of fire as if eager to burst out into flame.
Just then, as Roy was watching the heads of the three mounted men coming slowly forward, and, as the end of the bridge sank, seeing their chests, the horses’ heads, and finally their legs come into sight, Ben leaned towards him, and said, in a whisper—
“They don’t know how young you are, sir. Let ’em hear my dear old colonel speaking with your lips.”
“Yes,” said Roy, huskily; “but what am I to say, Ben?”
“You don’t want no telling, sir. Advance now.”
The officer had halted his men about fifty yards from the outer gate, and rode forward a few paces before drawing rein and waiting for some action on the part of those he had come to see; and he looked rather surprised as they stepped forward now, crossed the bridge, and advanced to meet him. For he had not anticipated to find such careful preparations, nor to see the personage who came to meet him in so perfect a military trim, and supported by a couple of soldiers whose bearing was regular to a degree.
The officer was a grim, stern, hard-looking, middle-aged man, and his garb and breastplate were of the commonest and plainest description. He seemed to glance with something like contempt at the elegantly fluted and embossed armour the boy was wearing, and, above all, at the gay sash Lady Royland’s loving hands had fastened across his breast. But his attention was keen as he scanned the soldierly bearing of Ben and the corporal, and a feeling of envy filled his breast as he compared them with his own rough following. Perhaps he would not have thought so much if he had seen the rest of the garrison, but they were too distant.
Roy saluted the officer, and drew a deep breath as he tried to string up his nerves till they were stretched like a bow. For Ben’s words had gone home, and he felt fully how big a part he had to play.
The officer saluted in response in a quick, abrupt manner, and said shortly:
“I come from the general commanding the army here in the west, to demand that you give up peaceable possession of this castle, once the property of the rebel, Sir Granby Royland, who is now in arms against the Parliament of England.”
Roy gave a start at the word “rebel,” and felt the hot blood rise to his cheeks. That insult acted like a spur. The nervous trepidation had gone, for there was no room for it alongside of the anger which flashed through him. Ben was right: the boy knew what to say. It was there ready, and only wanted bringing out.
“Look here, sir!” he cried, sharply; “you come here under a flag of truce to deliver a message, but that does not warrant insolence.”
“Insolence?” said the officer, sternly.
“Yes. I hold no parley with a man who dares to call my father, King Charles’s faithful servant, a rebel.”
“Then go back, boy, and send your mother to make the arrangement for handing over the keys of the castle,” said the officer, with a smile of contempt, “for I suppose the Dame Royland is here.”
“Lady Royland is here, sir; and I, her son, tell you to inform your rebel general that we here recognise no authority but that of his majesty the king, and that we consider it a piece of insolent braggadocio for him to send such a demand.”
“Indeed!” said the officer, laughing. “Well crowed, young game-cock!”
“Yes,” muttered Ben; “and you mind his spurs.”
“Have you anything more to say?” cried Roy.
“Yes; a good deal, my boy, and I will not notice your young, hot-blooded words. You have allowed your men to perform an act this morning that may mean serious consequences for you.”
“I do not understand your meaning, sir.”
“Yes, you do, boy,” said the officer, sternly. “You allowed your men to fire upon a picket of our cavalry.”
“Of course. You allowed your cavalry, as you term them, to try and ride down six unarmed men on their way to the castle, and I gave orders for them to be stopped, and they were stopped.”
“I have no time to argue these things with you, sir. I have only this to say: if you give up the keys to me at once, your people can disperse unharmed to their homes, and Dame Royland and her son can depart with such personal effects as she desires, to go wherever she pleases, and an escort will be provided for her protection.”
“And, if she declines this offer, sir, as my father’s steward of his estates and possessions?”
“Your father has neither estate nor possessions now, my boy; he is a proclaimed rebel. If this kindly offer is refused, and you are both so weak and vain as to resist, the place will be battered down and left in ruins, while the sufferings and slaughter of your people will be at your door. Now, sir, briefly, what message am I to take back to the commanding officer?”
“God save the king!” cried Roy, warmly.
“That is no answer, sir—only the vain cry of an enthusiastic, misled boy. What am I to say to the general in chief?”
“That Lady Royland will hold Royland Castle in the king’s name as long as one stone stands upon another, and she has a brave following to fight.”
The officer raised his hand in salute, turned his horse and rode back, while Roy stood there with his heart throbbing as he watched the three figures depart, and wondered whether it was really he who had spoken, or all this scene in the deepening evening were part of a feverish dream.
He was brought back to the present by the deep gruff voice of Ben.
“There, sir,” he said, with a look of pride at the boy in whose training he had had so large a share, “I knew you could.”
At the same moment Roy glanced at the corporal, who smiled and saluted him proudly.
“I only wish, sir,” he said, “that the colonel had been here.”
Roy turned to recross the bridge, feeling as if, in spite of all, this was part of a dream, when something on high began to flutter over the great gate tower, and glancing up, it was to see there in front, gazing down at them as she leaned forward in one of the embrasures, Lady Royland.
“What is it to be, Roy?” she cried, as he came closer. “Peace or war?”
“War!” he replied, sternly; and the sound seemed to be whispered in many tones through the great archway as the portcullis fell with its heavy clang and the drawbridge began to rise.
Chapter Twenty.War to the Knife.War to the knife without a doubt, for in the gathering gloom of the evening, as Roy went up to the top of the north-west tower, followed by Master Pawson, it was to see that mounted men were in a goodly body making a complete circuit of the castle, roughly marking out a line about half a mile in diameter, and at every hundred yards or so a couple of troopers were halted, and retained their posts.“Shutting us in, Master Pawson,” said Roy, after watching the manoeuvre for some time.“Ah!” said the secretary, with a sigh; “they will patrol the country all round now, and stop communications with the outside.”“Yes,” said Roy, frowning; “and I suppose I must give up all hope of the men from the farm getting in.”“Ah, yes! they are prisoners before this. So your poor father is looked upon as a rebel now.”“Stop, Master Pawson,” said Roy, hotly; “these words must not be spoken here.”“I only meant them as the opinion of the other party, who presume to say the estate is confiscated.”“My father acknowledges no other party. Confiscated! Why, this place has belonged to the Roylands from the days of the Plantagenets, Master Pawson. Let these people come and take it if they can.”“Ah, yes! that’s brave and true, Roy, brave and true. Then you do mean to fight?”“Yes, and you too,” cried the boy. “You want to save my father’s estate.”“Oh, yes, I want to save the estate,” said the secretary, eagerly.“Then do everything you can,” cried Roy. “Yes, they will soon have formed a ring round the castle now! Well, let them keep their distance, for I shall give orders for the garrison to fire at any one who attempts to approach.”“And how long do you hope to be able to hold out?”“As long as it is necessary,” said Roy, proudly; “till my father comes with his men, and scatters all these people away.”“To be sure, yes,” said the secretary. “How proud he will be of you, Roy, when he knows all.”Roy hurried down to join his lieutenant, whom he found humming a tune in the armoury, busy over some preparations by the light of a lamp.“You don’t seem in very bad spirits, Ben,” he said. “Bad spirits! What about, sir? Why, it’s like the good old time when your father and I were young. Not so young as you, though! Well, sir, we’ve been thinking over our plans. They won’t do anything yet—only shut us in. They’re going to wait for more men and more artillery.”“But we must be well on the watch against surprise, Ben.”“Why, of course, sir! You’ll have your watch on the towers. And you’ve seen how they’ve got a ring of patrols round us?”“Yes, I watched them. So we may give up all hope of getting those ten of Raynes’s.”“I’m afraid so. It’s a bad job, sir, as the corporal was saying just now, for we’d trained them into being our best gunners.”“A terrible loss.”“Well, not so very terrible, sir, because we must train up some more. Oh! we can keep the enemy outside the moat and enjoy ourselves while they’re starving without a roof to cover them. But I want to say a serious thing or two, sir.”“I know, Ben; you want to say that my mother’s garden must go.”“That’s one thing, sir.”“Well, take what ground you want, and we’ll put it straight when we’ve sent the Parliament to the right-about.”“Oh, you’ll make a good general, sir; and this trouble’s a blessing in disguise to save you from being wasted on books, and becoming a sort of Master Pawson. And that brings me to the other things.”“Well, what are those?”“Just you tell me plain, as a soldier—which you are now—what you set down as the strongest bits of the castle?”“Why, the towers, of course!”“That’s right, sir. Very well, then, they must be well manned.”“As well as we can man them.”“That’s it, sir; and we must have elbow-room.”“Of course!”“Then will you speak to my lady, and ask her to give Master Pawson a couple of rooms in the private part somewhere, or one room ought to be enough now, for I want those two chambers of his badly?”“He won’t like that, Ben,” said Roy, quickly.“I s’pose not, sir; and there’ll be a lot of things none of us will like, but we’ve got to put up with them. If you’ll see about that at once, I shall be glad.”“Is it very necessary, Ben?”“You know best about that, sir.”“Yes, it is very necessary, Ben,” said Roy; and he hurried off to talk the matter over with his mother, visiting the ramparts on his way.He found Lady Royland busy writing, and she looked up with a smile.“I am keeping a diary of all that has taken place since we began the defence. But tell me first—Raynes’s men—are we to give them up?”“I’m afraid so, mother. They have not failed us, but have been taken prisoners.”“This is a sad blow, Roy, but we must make up for it by working together.—But what is it? You have not come to chat about nothings.”“No, mother,” said the boy, seriously. “I have come to say that the pleasaunce must go. Ben Martlet says he cannot do without it now.”“I have been expecting this, my boy. It has always been a dear delight to me, but it is a pleasure for peace; and when the happy days come back, I shall want the whole garrison to restore it to me again.”“Then I was right in telling Ben to take what he wanted?”“Of course, my boy.—Something else?”“Yes, mother—another bit of self-sacrifice. Martlet and I both feel that we must have the north-west tower.—Ah, Master Pawson, you there?”“Yes. I knocked twice, and I thought you said ‘Come in.’”“Then you heard what I said just now.”“I heard you mention the western tower. Have you been telling her ladyship of what we saw this evening?”“No. What did you see?” cried Lady Royland, quickly.“The enemy has completely surrounded us with sentinels.”“Ah! they would, of course.”“It was not that, Master Pawson—but this; I was about telling my mother that, for the purposes of defence, Martlet and I feel that we must have the north-west tower.”“But you have it; the guns are there.”“The top only,” said Roy. “The chambers below are required for the men who work the guns, for ammunition, and other purposes.”Master Pawson looked at him in blank horror.“My mother will see that you have comfortable rooms or a room somewhere here. I will give up mine to you if you like.”“Oh! I could not take that,” said the secretary, quickly. “But surely this is not necessary.”“Yes; it is absolutely necessary. Besides, that tower will certainly be battered by the enemy’s guns, and it will not be safe for you.”“I wish you would not persist in looking upon me as such a coward, Roy; it is not fair. I was never meant for a soldier, but surely a man may be a man of peace and yet not a coward.”“No, no; I do not look upon you as a coward,” said Roy, hastily. “It is really because that will be a dangerous spot, and the rooms must be strongly occupied.”“But, as I said, you have the guns at the top. Really, I must protest; I am so much attached to those little rooms. Surely you can let me stay. I do not mind the firing. I will not go near the windows.”“You do not grasp the fact that these angle towers are our greatest protection,” said Roy, firmly. “I am sorry to give you all the trouble and annoyance, but we must have the chambers below. The one you use for a sleeping-room is absolutely necessary for the powder.”“Indeed, Lady Royland, they could manage without,” protested the secretary, warmly. “It would be a dreadful inconvenience to me to give them up. There are the books and my papers. Oh, it is really impossible.”“You forget, Master Pawson, that we all have to make sacrifices now, and that we shall have to make more and greater ones yet, before this unhappy trouble is at an end.”“Yes, yes, I know, Lady Royland, and I am ready to do anything to assist you,” cried the secretary, excitedly.“Then give up your rooms like a man,” said Roy, “and without making so much fuss.”Master Pawson darted an angry look at the boy and then turned to his mother.“You know, Lady Royland, how I have thrown myself heart and soul into the defence since I have found it necessary. You bade me go, but I would not. Duty said stay, and I risked my life in doing so; but as a favour, I beg that you will not let me be ousted from my two poor little rooms to gratify the whim of a very obstinate old soldier, who would turn your pleasaunce into a drill-ground.”“I have given up my garden because it is wanted, Master Pawson,” said Lady Royland, coldly.“To gratify a good soldier, I know, but a man who would have everything turned into a fighting place.”“It is not fair of you, sir,” said Roy, speaking very firmly. “This is no whim on the part of Martlet. Now that we are coming to using the guns, the men must have a place of shelter beneath the platform, and one where the powder may lie ready for handing up. We must have your sleeping-room.”“Take it then,” cried the secretary. “I give it up; but spare me my little sitting-room.”“We want that too,” said Roy. “We may have wounded men.”“Then bring them in there, and I’ll help to dress their wounds; but I must keep that.”“Surely you can manage without depriving Master Pawson of that place, Roy,” said Lady Royland.“Thank you, thank you, Lady Royland.—Yes, you hear that, Roy. You can—you must—you shall spare me that poor place. It is so small.”“And suppose we have an accident, and the powder bestowed in your chamber above is blown up?”“Well, I shall have died doing my duty,” said the secretary, with humility.“Wouldn’t it be doing your duty more to try and avoid danger, so as to be useful to us all?” said Roy; and his mother’s eyes flashed with pleasure, while the secretary started to hear such utterances from the mere boy he despised.“Perhaps so,” he said, with a faint laugh; “but really, Roy, you will not be so hard upon me as to refuse that favour. Do not make me think that now you are castellan, you are becoming a tyrant.”“There is no fear of my son becoming a tyrant, Master Pawson,” said Lady Royland, smiling, and with something suggesting contempt for the speaker in her tones.—“Roy, dear, I think you might manage to let the lower room remain as it is for Master Pawson’s use, if the upper floor is given up to the men. He could have the room next to yours for a bedchamber.”“Oh, that would not be necessary,” said the secretary, eagerly. “The one room is all I want—it can be my bedchamber too.”“I hardly know what to say, mother,” said the boy, gravely.—“Well, then, Master Pawson, keep your study; but we must have the upper room at once, and if you are annoyed by the going to and fro of the men on the staircase, you must not blame me.”“My dear boy,” he cried, with effusion, “pray do not think me so unreasonable. I am most grateful to you, Lady Royland, and to you too, Roy. I shall never forget this kindness. I will go and see to the new arrangement at once. Can I have two servants to help to move down the few things I shall want?”“You can have two of the garrison, Master Pawson,” replied Roy, smiling; “they all consider themselves to be soldiers now.”“Thank you, thank you,” he cried, in a voice which sounded as if it were choked by emotion, and he hastily left the room.“I wish he would not be so dreadfully smooth,” said Roy, petulantly. “I want to like Master Pawson, but somehow he always makes me feel cross.”“He is rather too fond of thanking one for every little favour; but it is his manner, dear, and he has certainly been doing his best to help us in this time of need.”“Yes,” said Roy; “and we should have thought bad enough of him if he had gone and left us in the lurch. There, mother, I must go and see Ben Martlet and tell him what has been arranged. He will not like it, though; but he will have two things out of three.”“You must not give up too much to Martlet, my boy,” said Lady Royland, retaining her son’s hand as he rose to go. “He is a faithful old servant, and will fight for us to the death; but remember that you are governor of the castle.”“He makes me remember it, mother,” cried Roy, merrily. “Don’t you be afraid of his being presuming, for he will not do a thing without I give the order. There, good-bye.”“Good-bye? You will be back soon.”“No,” replied Roy; “I must be on the battlements all night, visiting posts and helping to keep watch. You forget that the enemy surround us now.”“Alas! no, Roy. I know it only too well. Come back in an hour’s time—you will want some refreshment. I will see that it is ready, and I hope by then you will find things so quiet that you can take a few hours’ rest.”“We shall see, mother,” said Roy, kissing her affectionately. “How brave you have grown!”She shook her head sadly as she clung to him for a few moments; and, as soon as the door had closed, and his steps died away on the oaken floor of the corridor, she sank in a chair sobbing as if her heart would break.
War to the knife without a doubt, for in the gathering gloom of the evening, as Roy went up to the top of the north-west tower, followed by Master Pawson, it was to see that mounted men were in a goodly body making a complete circuit of the castle, roughly marking out a line about half a mile in diameter, and at every hundred yards or so a couple of troopers were halted, and retained their posts.
“Shutting us in, Master Pawson,” said Roy, after watching the manoeuvre for some time.
“Ah!” said the secretary, with a sigh; “they will patrol the country all round now, and stop communications with the outside.”
“Yes,” said Roy, frowning; “and I suppose I must give up all hope of the men from the farm getting in.”
“Ah, yes! they are prisoners before this. So your poor father is looked upon as a rebel now.”
“Stop, Master Pawson,” said Roy, hotly; “these words must not be spoken here.”
“I only meant them as the opinion of the other party, who presume to say the estate is confiscated.”
“My father acknowledges no other party. Confiscated! Why, this place has belonged to the Roylands from the days of the Plantagenets, Master Pawson. Let these people come and take it if they can.”
“Ah, yes! that’s brave and true, Roy, brave and true. Then you do mean to fight?”
“Yes, and you too,” cried the boy. “You want to save my father’s estate.”
“Oh, yes, I want to save the estate,” said the secretary, eagerly.
“Then do everything you can,” cried Roy. “Yes, they will soon have formed a ring round the castle now! Well, let them keep their distance, for I shall give orders for the garrison to fire at any one who attempts to approach.”
“And how long do you hope to be able to hold out?”
“As long as it is necessary,” said Roy, proudly; “till my father comes with his men, and scatters all these people away.”
“To be sure, yes,” said the secretary. “How proud he will be of you, Roy, when he knows all.”
Roy hurried down to join his lieutenant, whom he found humming a tune in the armoury, busy over some preparations by the light of a lamp.
“You don’t seem in very bad spirits, Ben,” he said. “Bad spirits! What about, sir? Why, it’s like the good old time when your father and I were young. Not so young as you, though! Well, sir, we’ve been thinking over our plans. They won’t do anything yet—only shut us in. They’re going to wait for more men and more artillery.”
“But we must be well on the watch against surprise, Ben.”
“Why, of course, sir! You’ll have your watch on the towers. And you’ve seen how they’ve got a ring of patrols round us?”
“Yes, I watched them. So we may give up all hope of getting those ten of Raynes’s.”
“I’m afraid so. It’s a bad job, sir, as the corporal was saying just now, for we’d trained them into being our best gunners.”
“A terrible loss.”
“Well, not so very terrible, sir, because we must train up some more. Oh! we can keep the enemy outside the moat and enjoy ourselves while they’re starving without a roof to cover them. But I want to say a serious thing or two, sir.”
“I know, Ben; you want to say that my mother’s garden must go.”
“That’s one thing, sir.”
“Well, take what ground you want, and we’ll put it straight when we’ve sent the Parliament to the right-about.”
“Oh, you’ll make a good general, sir; and this trouble’s a blessing in disguise to save you from being wasted on books, and becoming a sort of Master Pawson. And that brings me to the other things.”
“Well, what are those?”
“Just you tell me plain, as a soldier—which you are now—what you set down as the strongest bits of the castle?”
“Why, the towers, of course!”
“That’s right, sir. Very well, then, they must be well manned.”
“As well as we can man them.”
“That’s it, sir; and we must have elbow-room.”
“Of course!”
“Then will you speak to my lady, and ask her to give Master Pawson a couple of rooms in the private part somewhere, or one room ought to be enough now, for I want those two chambers of his badly?”
“He won’t like that, Ben,” said Roy, quickly.
“I s’pose not, sir; and there’ll be a lot of things none of us will like, but we’ve got to put up with them. If you’ll see about that at once, I shall be glad.”
“Is it very necessary, Ben?”
“You know best about that, sir.”
“Yes, it is very necessary, Ben,” said Roy; and he hurried off to talk the matter over with his mother, visiting the ramparts on his way.
He found Lady Royland busy writing, and she looked up with a smile.
“I am keeping a diary of all that has taken place since we began the defence. But tell me first—Raynes’s men—are we to give them up?”
“I’m afraid so, mother. They have not failed us, but have been taken prisoners.”
“This is a sad blow, Roy, but we must make up for it by working together.—But what is it? You have not come to chat about nothings.”
“No, mother,” said the boy, seriously. “I have come to say that the pleasaunce must go. Ben Martlet says he cannot do without it now.”
“I have been expecting this, my boy. It has always been a dear delight to me, but it is a pleasure for peace; and when the happy days come back, I shall want the whole garrison to restore it to me again.”
“Then I was right in telling Ben to take what he wanted?”
“Of course, my boy.—Something else?”
“Yes, mother—another bit of self-sacrifice. Martlet and I both feel that we must have the north-west tower.—Ah, Master Pawson, you there?”
“Yes. I knocked twice, and I thought you said ‘Come in.’”
“Then you heard what I said just now.”
“I heard you mention the western tower. Have you been telling her ladyship of what we saw this evening?”
“No. What did you see?” cried Lady Royland, quickly.
“The enemy has completely surrounded us with sentinels.”
“Ah! they would, of course.”
“It was not that, Master Pawson—but this; I was about telling my mother that, for the purposes of defence, Martlet and I feel that we must have the north-west tower.”
“But you have it; the guns are there.”
“The top only,” said Roy. “The chambers below are required for the men who work the guns, for ammunition, and other purposes.”
Master Pawson looked at him in blank horror.
“My mother will see that you have comfortable rooms or a room somewhere here. I will give up mine to you if you like.”
“Oh! I could not take that,” said the secretary, quickly. “But surely this is not necessary.”
“Yes; it is absolutely necessary. Besides, that tower will certainly be battered by the enemy’s guns, and it will not be safe for you.”
“I wish you would not persist in looking upon me as such a coward, Roy; it is not fair. I was never meant for a soldier, but surely a man may be a man of peace and yet not a coward.”
“No, no; I do not look upon you as a coward,” said Roy, hastily. “It is really because that will be a dangerous spot, and the rooms must be strongly occupied.”
“But, as I said, you have the guns at the top. Really, I must protest; I am so much attached to those little rooms. Surely you can let me stay. I do not mind the firing. I will not go near the windows.”
“You do not grasp the fact that these angle towers are our greatest protection,” said Roy, firmly. “I am sorry to give you all the trouble and annoyance, but we must have the chambers below. The one you use for a sleeping-room is absolutely necessary for the powder.”
“Indeed, Lady Royland, they could manage without,” protested the secretary, warmly. “It would be a dreadful inconvenience to me to give them up. There are the books and my papers. Oh, it is really impossible.”
“You forget, Master Pawson, that we all have to make sacrifices now, and that we shall have to make more and greater ones yet, before this unhappy trouble is at an end.”
“Yes, yes, I know, Lady Royland, and I am ready to do anything to assist you,” cried the secretary, excitedly.
“Then give up your rooms like a man,” said Roy, “and without making so much fuss.”
Master Pawson darted an angry look at the boy and then turned to his mother.
“You know, Lady Royland, how I have thrown myself heart and soul into the defence since I have found it necessary. You bade me go, but I would not. Duty said stay, and I risked my life in doing so; but as a favour, I beg that you will not let me be ousted from my two poor little rooms to gratify the whim of a very obstinate old soldier, who would turn your pleasaunce into a drill-ground.”
“I have given up my garden because it is wanted, Master Pawson,” said Lady Royland, coldly.
“To gratify a good soldier, I know, but a man who would have everything turned into a fighting place.”
“It is not fair of you, sir,” said Roy, speaking very firmly. “This is no whim on the part of Martlet. Now that we are coming to using the guns, the men must have a place of shelter beneath the platform, and one where the powder may lie ready for handing up. We must have your sleeping-room.”
“Take it then,” cried the secretary. “I give it up; but spare me my little sitting-room.”
“We want that too,” said Roy. “We may have wounded men.”
“Then bring them in there, and I’ll help to dress their wounds; but I must keep that.”
“Surely you can manage without depriving Master Pawson of that place, Roy,” said Lady Royland.
“Thank you, thank you, Lady Royland.—Yes, you hear that, Roy. You can—you must—you shall spare me that poor place. It is so small.”
“And suppose we have an accident, and the powder bestowed in your chamber above is blown up?”
“Well, I shall have died doing my duty,” said the secretary, with humility.
“Wouldn’t it be doing your duty more to try and avoid danger, so as to be useful to us all?” said Roy; and his mother’s eyes flashed with pleasure, while the secretary started to hear such utterances from the mere boy he despised.
“Perhaps so,” he said, with a faint laugh; “but really, Roy, you will not be so hard upon me as to refuse that favour. Do not make me think that now you are castellan, you are becoming a tyrant.”
“There is no fear of my son becoming a tyrant, Master Pawson,” said Lady Royland, smiling, and with something suggesting contempt for the speaker in her tones.—“Roy, dear, I think you might manage to let the lower room remain as it is for Master Pawson’s use, if the upper floor is given up to the men. He could have the room next to yours for a bedchamber.”
“Oh, that would not be necessary,” said the secretary, eagerly. “The one room is all I want—it can be my bedchamber too.”
“I hardly know what to say, mother,” said the boy, gravely.—“Well, then, Master Pawson, keep your study; but we must have the upper room at once, and if you are annoyed by the going to and fro of the men on the staircase, you must not blame me.”
“My dear boy,” he cried, with effusion, “pray do not think me so unreasonable. I am most grateful to you, Lady Royland, and to you too, Roy. I shall never forget this kindness. I will go and see to the new arrangement at once. Can I have two servants to help to move down the few things I shall want?”
“You can have two of the garrison, Master Pawson,” replied Roy, smiling; “they all consider themselves to be soldiers now.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he cried, in a voice which sounded as if it were choked by emotion, and he hastily left the room.
“I wish he would not be so dreadfully smooth,” said Roy, petulantly. “I want to like Master Pawson, but somehow he always makes me feel cross.”
“He is rather too fond of thanking one for every little favour; but it is his manner, dear, and he has certainly been doing his best to help us in this time of need.”
“Yes,” said Roy; “and we should have thought bad enough of him if he had gone and left us in the lurch. There, mother, I must go and see Ben Martlet and tell him what has been arranged. He will not like it, though; but he will have two things out of three.”
“You must not give up too much to Martlet, my boy,” said Lady Royland, retaining her son’s hand as he rose to go. “He is a faithful old servant, and will fight for us to the death; but remember that you are governor of the castle.”
“He makes me remember it, mother,” cried Roy, merrily. “Don’t you be afraid of his being presuming, for he will not do a thing without I give the order. There, good-bye.”
“Good-bye? You will be back soon.”
“No,” replied Roy; “I must be on the battlements all night, visiting posts and helping to keep watch. You forget that the enemy surround us now.”
“Alas! no, Roy. I know it only too well. Come back in an hour’s time—you will want some refreshment. I will see that it is ready, and I hope by then you will find things so quiet that you can take a few hours’ rest.”
“We shall see, mother,” said Roy, kissing her affectionately. “How brave you have grown!”
She shook her head sadly as she clung to him for a few moments; and, as soon as the door had closed, and his steps died away on the oaken floor of the corridor, she sank in a chair sobbing as if her heart would break.
Chapter Twenty One.A Grand Surprise.Roy had to go the whole round of the ramparts that night before he found Ben, who had always been visiting the parts he reached a few minutes before. But he came upon him at length, just at the door-way of the south-east tower, where it opened upon the southern rampart between that place and the great gate-way.“Ladyship says I’m to have the garden to turn back to a proper court-yard?” said Ben, after hearing his master’s report.“Yes.”“And Master Pawson is turning out of his chamber, but he is to keep the lower place?”“Yes; that is the arrangement, Ben; and you can have the upper chamber for use at once.”“Well, that’s a good thing for the men who’ll be up there, sir; but what does Master Pawson want with that lower room? I meant to have three firelock men there.”“Be content with what you can have, Ben. My mother did not want to be too hard upon Master Pawson.”“No, sir; she wouldn’t be. But you’ve come all round the ramparts?”“Yes.”“Kep’ looking out of course, sir? What did you hear?”“I? Nothing.”“Then you didn’t try.”“Yes, I did; twice on each rampart. There was nothing to hear.”Ben chuckled.“Ears aren’t so sharp for night-work as they will be, sir, before you’ve done. I heard them on the move every time I stopped.”“What! the enemy?”“Yes, sir; they’re padrolling the place round and round. You listen.”Roy reached over the battlement, and gazed across the black moat, trying to pierce the transparent darkness of the dull soft night. The dew that was refreshing the herbage and flowers of field, common, and copse sent up a deliciously moist scent, and every now and then came the call of a moor-hen paddling about in the moat, the soft piping and croaking of the frogs, and the distanthoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! of an owl, but he could make out nothing else, and said so.“No; they’re pretty quiet now, sir; don’t hear nothing myself.—Yes; there!”“Yes, I heard that,” said Roy; “it was a horse champing his bit; and there again, that must have been the jingle of a spur.”“Right, sir, right. You’ll hear plenty of that sort of thing if you keep on listening. There, hear that?”“Yes, plainly. A horse stumbled and plunged to save itself.”“Enough to make it,” said Ben, gruffly; “going to sleep, and him on it jigged the spurs into its flanks to rouse it up. There, you can hear ’em on the move again, going to and fro.”“Yes, quite plainly,” whispered Roy; “why, they must have come in much nearer.”“No, sir. Everything’s so quiet that the sounds seem close. They won’t come in nigher for fear of a shot.”“But they must know we could not see them.”“Not yet, sir; but the moon’ll be up in a couple of hours, and they know it’ll rise before long, and won’t run any risks after what they’ve seen of my gunners—I mean your—sir. Ah! it’s a bad job about those ten poor lads. They would have been able to shoot. Master Raynes is in a fine taking about ’em.”“Can’t be helped, Ben; we must do our best without them.”“Ay, sir, we must, even if it’s bad.”They remained silent for a few minutes, gazing outward, hearing the jingle of harness, and the soft trampling of hoofs, all of which sounded wonderfully near.The pause was broken by Ben, who whispered suddenly:“You’re right, Master Roy, after all; they are coming in a bit closer and no mistake. Mind coming round with me?”“No. What are you going to do?”“Have a word with the lads all round to be on the lookout. I don’t want to make a noise, and get blazing away powder and shot for nothing; but they must be taught their distance, sir.”“With the cannon?”“No; I think a few firelock shots might do it to-night, sir; and that wouldn’t be so wasteful. Do our boys good too. They haven’t fired their pieces yet in earnest.”Roy’s heart began to beat a little faster, for this was exciting; and silently passing on with his lieutenant, post after post was visited, the men challenging, receiving the word, and then a sharp warning to be on the alert; while, after this, Ben and Roy passed on to listen again and again.“Yes, sir,” whispered the former; “there’s no mistake they’re a good hundred yards closer in. I almost fancied I could see one of ’em moving against that lighter bit of sky.”“I can, Ben,” whispered Roy. “There, just to the left of where the ruins must lie—between it and the tower we just passed. Stay, though; why didn’t we go up and see how they’re getting on with clearing Master Pawson’s chamber? There is a light up there.”“’Cause we’ve got something more serious on the way, sir.”“Halt! stand, or I fire!” came from the top of the north-west tower, and Roy was about to call out—“Don’t, you idiot; we gave you the word just now,” when a voice from beyond the moat uttered a low “Whist!”“Stand, or I fire!”“If you do, Dick Davis, I’ll punch your head, as sure as you stand there,” came from across the moat. “Can’t you see we’re friends?”“Give the word.”“Stop! Who’s there?” cried Roy.“That you, sir? Please speak to Dick Davis, or he’ll be shooting somebody with that gun of hisn.”“Is that Brian Wiggins?”“Yes, sir, and the rest on us, sir. But pst! The enemy’s close behind.”“Quick! round to the bridge!”“No, sir; there’s a whole lot of ’em come close in. They nearly had us an hour ago, and we’ve had a fine job to creep through all in a line one arter t’other.”“Hist! cease talking,” whispered Roy, “or you’ll be heard.”The warning came too late, for an order delivered in a low tone a short distance away was followed by a tramping as if a line of horses was approaching cautiously.“How many of you can swim? Now, as many as can, come across.”But no one stirred, and the trampling came on.“Do you hear?” said Roy, in an angry whisper; “are you afraid?”“Fear’d to leave our comrades as can’t swim, sir,” said the man who had first spoken.“What’s to be done,” exclaimed Roy, excitedly.But there was no response, for he was standing there upon the rampart alone.The boy was in an agony of doubt and dread, for the right thing to do in such an emergency would not come to his inexperienced brain. He divined that Ben had gone for assistance, but he felt that before he could be back, the brave fellows who were trying to come to their aid would be surrounded by the enemy and taken prisoners.To add to his horror and excitement, he plainly heard from the enemy’s line the word given to dismount. This was followed by the jingle of accoutrements as the men sprang from their horses, and a loud bang—evidently of a steel headpiece falling to the ground.To speak to the unarmed men from the farm was to obtain an answer and proclaim their whereabouts to the enemy; so Roy was baffled there; and, at his wit’s end, he was about to order them to make their way to the bridge, when the man on the tower above challenged again:“Stand, or I fire!”“Draw swords! Forward, quick!” came from out of the darkness.The sharp rattle and noise told that the party must be large, and like a call just then a horse uttered a tremendous neigh.Involuntarily, at the first order from beyond the moat, Roy had half drawn his own sword, but thrust it angrily back as he realised his impotence, and reached forward to try and make out what was going on below him; for there was a loud splashing noise in the water as if the men were lowering themselves into the moat, the reeds and rushes crackled and whispered, and there was a panting sound and a low ejaculation or two.“Now, every one his man,” said some one, sharply.Bang, bang! and a couple of flashes of light from the top of the tower just above Roy’s head; and as the splashing went on, there was a loud trampling of feet.“On with you!” roared the same voice. “They’ll be an hour loading, and it’s too dark to hit.”At that moment, from some distance along the rampart to the right, came flash after flash, and the reports of ten or a dozen muskets, followed by the rush of feet; and Ben’s voice said, in a low stern tone—“Steady, steady! No hurry. Reload!”There was the rustling and rattling of bandoleer and ramrod, and the twinkling of sparks of light, as the reloading went on; while from the angry orders being given, some distance back in the darkness, it was evident that the volley had sent the enemy off in a scare, which was made worse by the plunging, snorting, and galloping of horses which had evidently dashed off, escaping from the men who held their reins.“How many are you above there?” cried Roy.“Three, sir.”“Only two fired.”“No. My piece wouldn’t go.”“Are you reloaded?”“Yes, sir.”“Be ready.”“They’re coming on again, sir. He’s rallied ’em,” growled Ben; “but we shall be ready for ’em when they come.”Meanwhile, the sound of splashing and swimming came up from the moat, accompanied by a good many spluttering and choking noises, and now heads were dimly made out approaching the bank of the moat below.“How many are there of you across?” said Roy.“Eight of us, sir,” came up in a panting voice; “we’re going back for the other two.”“Who are—how many?”“Four on us, sir,” said one man; “they’re hiding in the reeds. Can’t swim.”“Can you bring them across?”“Yes, sir. We did bring three as couldn’t take a stroke, and they’re down here half drowned.”“That’s a loy,” said a gruff voice; “I aren’t: on’y full o’ water.”The men lowered themselves into the moat again, and began to swim back, but just as they were nearly across, there came the thudding sound of horses passing along at a trot, and a rush of men towards the edge of the moat.“Fire!” shouted Roy; and over the swimmers’ heads a ragged volley tore, the flashes cutting the darkness, and once more, in spite of angry curses and yelled-out orders, horse and man were driven to the right-about, all save about a dozen, who came right on to the edge of the moat.“Surrender!” roared a voice, as there was a quick splashing among the reeds below the bank. Then a shot was fired from a pistol, followed by another; but the men summoned to surrender had done so to their comrades, who whispered to them to trust themselves to their strong arms, two of the swimmers taking a non-swimmer between them, and bringing him across in safety to the rest, crouching upon the narrow strip of bank beneath the walls.Another volley sent the attacking party back into the darkness, and a brief colloquy took place.“All safe?” cried Roy.“Yes, sir, and as wet as wet,” came up in answer.“Fall in, then, and quick march for the sally-port,” cried Roy; and the men tramped round by the north-west tower, along beneath the western rampart, turned the southern corner, and were admitted by the little sally-port beside the portcullis, where, bedraggled as they were, they received a tremendous hand-shaking and a roar of cheers.In half an hour the missing men were in dry clothes, ready to recount their adventures. The enemy had retired to a distance to continue their night patrol of the place; while the men upon the ramparts were reduced to the regular watch, and those off duty were being addressed by Ben, who sarcastically lectured them upon what he called their modesty.“When the captain gives the order to fire,” he said, “you’re all to pull trigger together, and every man not to let his comrade fire first for good manners.”But here Roy interposed.“No more to-night, sergeant,” he said, firmly. “We are all fresh to our work. But I thank you all for the brave and manly way in which you have shown what you can do. This has been a grand night’s work: your ten comrades safely brought in, and the enemy sent to the right-about. The sergeant has been finding fault, but he is as proud of you all as I am. Come, Martlet, what do you say?”“Might ha’ done better, captain,” replied the old fellow, gruffly. “But it warn’t so bad. Wait a few days, though, and we’ll show you something better than that.—What do you say, lads?”The answer was a hearty cheer, which was repeated, and was still echoing through the place, when Roy, thrilling still with the excitement of the past hour, made his way towards his mother’s room to fully set her mind at rest with his last good news.
Roy had to go the whole round of the ramparts that night before he found Ben, who had always been visiting the parts he reached a few minutes before. But he came upon him at length, just at the door-way of the south-east tower, where it opened upon the southern rampart between that place and the great gate-way.
“Ladyship says I’m to have the garden to turn back to a proper court-yard?” said Ben, after hearing his master’s report.
“Yes.”
“And Master Pawson is turning out of his chamber, but he is to keep the lower place?”
“Yes; that is the arrangement, Ben; and you can have the upper chamber for use at once.”
“Well, that’s a good thing for the men who’ll be up there, sir; but what does Master Pawson want with that lower room? I meant to have three firelock men there.”
“Be content with what you can have, Ben. My mother did not want to be too hard upon Master Pawson.”
“No, sir; she wouldn’t be. But you’ve come all round the ramparts?”
“Yes.”
“Kep’ looking out of course, sir? What did you hear?”
“I? Nothing.”
“Then you didn’t try.”
“Yes, I did; twice on each rampart. There was nothing to hear.”
Ben chuckled.
“Ears aren’t so sharp for night-work as they will be, sir, before you’ve done. I heard them on the move every time I stopped.”
“What! the enemy?”
“Yes, sir; they’re padrolling the place round and round. You listen.”
Roy reached over the battlement, and gazed across the black moat, trying to pierce the transparent darkness of the dull soft night. The dew that was refreshing the herbage and flowers of field, common, and copse sent up a deliciously moist scent, and every now and then came the call of a moor-hen paddling about in the moat, the soft piping and croaking of the frogs, and the distanthoo-hoo-hoo-hoo! of an owl, but he could make out nothing else, and said so.
“No; they’re pretty quiet now, sir; don’t hear nothing myself.—Yes; there!”
“Yes, I heard that,” said Roy; “it was a horse champing his bit; and there again, that must have been the jingle of a spur.”
“Right, sir, right. You’ll hear plenty of that sort of thing if you keep on listening. There, hear that?”
“Yes, plainly. A horse stumbled and plunged to save itself.”
“Enough to make it,” said Ben, gruffly; “going to sleep, and him on it jigged the spurs into its flanks to rouse it up. There, you can hear ’em on the move again, going to and fro.”
“Yes, quite plainly,” whispered Roy; “why, they must have come in much nearer.”
“No, sir. Everything’s so quiet that the sounds seem close. They won’t come in nigher for fear of a shot.”
“But they must know we could not see them.”
“Not yet, sir; but the moon’ll be up in a couple of hours, and they know it’ll rise before long, and won’t run any risks after what they’ve seen of my gunners—I mean your—sir. Ah! it’s a bad job about those ten poor lads. They would have been able to shoot. Master Raynes is in a fine taking about ’em.”
“Can’t be helped, Ben; we must do our best without them.”
“Ay, sir, we must, even if it’s bad.”
They remained silent for a few minutes, gazing outward, hearing the jingle of harness, and the soft trampling of hoofs, all of which sounded wonderfully near.
The pause was broken by Ben, who whispered suddenly:
“You’re right, Master Roy, after all; they are coming in a bit closer and no mistake. Mind coming round with me?”
“No. What are you going to do?”
“Have a word with the lads all round to be on the lookout. I don’t want to make a noise, and get blazing away powder and shot for nothing; but they must be taught their distance, sir.”
“With the cannon?”
“No; I think a few firelock shots might do it to-night, sir; and that wouldn’t be so wasteful. Do our boys good too. They haven’t fired their pieces yet in earnest.”
Roy’s heart began to beat a little faster, for this was exciting; and silently passing on with his lieutenant, post after post was visited, the men challenging, receiving the word, and then a sharp warning to be on the alert; while, after this, Ben and Roy passed on to listen again and again.
“Yes, sir,” whispered the former; “there’s no mistake they’re a good hundred yards closer in. I almost fancied I could see one of ’em moving against that lighter bit of sky.”
“I can, Ben,” whispered Roy. “There, just to the left of where the ruins must lie—between it and the tower we just passed. Stay, though; why didn’t we go up and see how they’re getting on with clearing Master Pawson’s chamber? There is a light up there.”
“’Cause we’ve got something more serious on the way, sir.”
“Halt! stand, or I fire!” came from the top of the north-west tower, and Roy was about to call out—
“Don’t, you idiot; we gave you the word just now,” when a voice from beyond the moat uttered a low “Whist!”
“Stand, or I fire!”
“If you do, Dick Davis, I’ll punch your head, as sure as you stand there,” came from across the moat. “Can’t you see we’re friends?”
“Give the word.”
“Stop! Who’s there?” cried Roy.
“That you, sir? Please speak to Dick Davis, or he’ll be shooting somebody with that gun of hisn.”
“Is that Brian Wiggins?”
“Yes, sir, and the rest on us, sir. But pst! The enemy’s close behind.”
“Quick! round to the bridge!”
“No, sir; there’s a whole lot of ’em come close in. They nearly had us an hour ago, and we’ve had a fine job to creep through all in a line one arter t’other.”
“Hist! cease talking,” whispered Roy, “or you’ll be heard.”
The warning came too late, for an order delivered in a low tone a short distance away was followed by a tramping as if a line of horses was approaching cautiously.
“How many of you can swim? Now, as many as can, come across.”
But no one stirred, and the trampling came on.
“Do you hear?” said Roy, in an angry whisper; “are you afraid?”
“Fear’d to leave our comrades as can’t swim, sir,” said the man who had first spoken.
“What’s to be done,” exclaimed Roy, excitedly.
But there was no response, for he was standing there upon the rampart alone.
The boy was in an agony of doubt and dread, for the right thing to do in such an emergency would not come to his inexperienced brain. He divined that Ben had gone for assistance, but he felt that before he could be back, the brave fellows who were trying to come to their aid would be surrounded by the enemy and taken prisoners.
To add to his horror and excitement, he plainly heard from the enemy’s line the word given to dismount. This was followed by the jingle of accoutrements as the men sprang from their horses, and a loud bang—evidently of a steel headpiece falling to the ground.
To speak to the unarmed men from the farm was to obtain an answer and proclaim their whereabouts to the enemy; so Roy was baffled there; and, at his wit’s end, he was about to order them to make their way to the bridge, when the man on the tower above challenged again:
“Stand, or I fire!”
“Draw swords! Forward, quick!” came from out of the darkness.
The sharp rattle and noise told that the party must be large, and like a call just then a horse uttered a tremendous neigh.
Involuntarily, at the first order from beyond the moat, Roy had half drawn his own sword, but thrust it angrily back as he realised his impotence, and reached forward to try and make out what was going on below him; for there was a loud splashing noise in the water as if the men were lowering themselves into the moat, the reeds and rushes crackled and whispered, and there was a panting sound and a low ejaculation or two.
“Now, every one his man,” said some one, sharply.
Bang, bang! and a couple of flashes of light from the top of the tower just above Roy’s head; and as the splashing went on, there was a loud trampling of feet.
“On with you!” roared the same voice. “They’ll be an hour loading, and it’s too dark to hit.”
At that moment, from some distance along the rampart to the right, came flash after flash, and the reports of ten or a dozen muskets, followed by the rush of feet; and Ben’s voice said, in a low stern tone—
“Steady, steady! No hurry. Reload!”
There was the rustling and rattling of bandoleer and ramrod, and the twinkling of sparks of light, as the reloading went on; while from the angry orders being given, some distance back in the darkness, it was evident that the volley had sent the enemy off in a scare, which was made worse by the plunging, snorting, and galloping of horses which had evidently dashed off, escaping from the men who held their reins.
“How many are you above there?” cried Roy.
“Three, sir.”
“Only two fired.”
“No. My piece wouldn’t go.”
“Are you reloaded?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Be ready.”
“They’re coming on again, sir. He’s rallied ’em,” growled Ben; “but we shall be ready for ’em when they come.”
Meanwhile, the sound of splashing and swimming came up from the moat, accompanied by a good many spluttering and choking noises, and now heads were dimly made out approaching the bank of the moat below.
“How many are there of you across?” said Roy.
“Eight of us, sir,” came up in a panting voice; “we’re going back for the other two.”
“Who are—how many?”
“Four on us, sir,” said one man; “they’re hiding in the reeds. Can’t swim.”
“Can you bring them across?”
“Yes, sir. We did bring three as couldn’t take a stroke, and they’re down here half drowned.”
“That’s a loy,” said a gruff voice; “I aren’t: on’y full o’ water.”
The men lowered themselves into the moat again, and began to swim back, but just as they were nearly across, there came the thudding sound of horses passing along at a trot, and a rush of men towards the edge of the moat.
“Fire!” shouted Roy; and over the swimmers’ heads a ragged volley tore, the flashes cutting the darkness, and once more, in spite of angry curses and yelled-out orders, horse and man were driven to the right-about, all save about a dozen, who came right on to the edge of the moat.
“Surrender!” roared a voice, as there was a quick splashing among the reeds below the bank. Then a shot was fired from a pistol, followed by another; but the men summoned to surrender had done so to their comrades, who whispered to them to trust themselves to their strong arms, two of the swimmers taking a non-swimmer between them, and bringing him across in safety to the rest, crouching upon the narrow strip of bank beneath the walls.
Another volley sent the attacking party back into the darkness, and a brief colloquy took place.
“All safe?” cried Roy.
“Yes, sir, and as wet as wet,” came up in answer.
“Fall in, then, and quick march for the sally-port,” cried Roy; and the men tramped round by the north-west tower, along beneath the western rampart, turned the southern corner, and were admitted by the little sally-port beside the portcullis, where, bedraggled as they were, they received a tremendous hand-shaking and a roar of cheers.
In half an hour the missing men were in dry clothes, ready to recount their adventures. The enemy had retired to a distance to continue their night patrol of the place; while the men upon the ramparts were reduced to the regular watch, and those off duty were being addressed by Ben, who sarcastically lectured them upon what he called their modesty.
“When the captain gives the order to fire,” he said, “you’re all to pull trigger together, and every man not to let his comrade fire first for good manners.”
But here Roy interposed.
“No more to-night, sergeant,” he said, firmly. “We are all fresh to our work. But I thank you all for the brave and manly way in which you have shown what you can do. This has been a grand night’s work: your ten comrades safely brought in, and the enemy sent to the right-about. The sergeant has been finding fault, but he is as proud of you all as I am. Come, Martlet, what do you say?”
“Might ha’ done better, captain,” replied the old fellow, gruffly. “But it warn’t so bad. Wait a few days, though, and we’ll show you something better than that.—What do you say, lads?”
The answer was a hearty cheer, which was repeated, and was still echoing through the place, when Roy, thrilling still with the excitement of the past hour, made his way towards his mother’s room to fully set her mind at rest with his last good news.
Chapter Twenty Two.But All’s Well.Lady Royland was surrounded by the trembling women of the household, who, scared by the firing, had sought her to find comfort and relief.“What! the ten men safely brought in!” she cried, as her son hastened to tell his tidings. “And no one hurt?”“No one on our side, mother,” said Roy, meaningly; “I cannot answer for those across the moat.”“Our ten poor fellows here in safety,” cried Lady Royland, once again. “Oh, Roy, my boy, this is good news indeed! But you must be faint and exhausted. Come in the dining-room. I have something ready for you.—There, you have nothing to fear now,” she said, addressing the women; “but one of you had better go and tell Master Pawson that we are ready to sup.”The women went out, some of them still trembling and hysterical, and all white and scared of aspect.As soon as the door was closed, Lady Royland caught her son’s hand.“Eight of us women,” she said, with a forced laugh: “eight, and of no use whatever; only ready to huddle together like so many sheep scared by some little dog; when, if we were men, we could be of so much help. There, come along; you look quite white. You are doing too much. For my sake, take care.”Roy nodded and smiled, and followed his mother into the dining-room, where with loving care she had prepared everything for him, and made it attractive and tempting, so that it should be a relief to the harsh realities of the warlike preparations with which the boy was now mixed up.“You must eat a good supper, Roy, and then go and have a long night’s rest.”“Impossible, mother,” he said, faintly; “must go and visit the men’s posts from time to time.”“No,” said Lady Royland, firmly, as she unbuckled her son’s sword-belt, and laid it and the heavy weapon upon a couch.There was a tap at the door directly after, and one of the maids came back.“If you please, my lady, I’ve been knocking ever so long at Master Pawson’s door, and he doesn’t answer. We think he has gone to bed.”“Surely not. He must be in the upper chamber arranging about the things being removed.”“No, my lady; that was all done a long time ago. It was finished before the fighting began, for he wouldn’t have nothing but his bed and washstand brought down. The men had to take most of the other things right down in the black cellar place underneath, so as to clear the chamber.”“But did you ask the men on guard if they had seen him?”“Yes, my lady; they say he shut himself up in his room.”“That will do. Never mind,” said Lady Royland, dismissing the maid.—“Now, Roy, I am going to keep you company, and—oh, my boy! what is it? Ah! You are hurt!”She flew to his side, and with trembling hands began to tear open his doublet, but he checked her.“No, no, mother, I am not—indeed!”“Then what is it? You are white and trembling, and your forehead is all wet.”“Yes, it has come over like this,” he faltered, “all since the fight and getting the men in through the sally-port.”“But you must have been hurt without knowing it.”“No, no,” he moaned, as he sank back in the chair, and covered his face with his hands.“Roy, my boy, speak out. Tell me. What is the matter?”“I didn’t mean to speak a word, mother,” he groaned; “but I can’t keep it back.”“Yes; speak, speak,” she said, tenderly, as she sank upon her knees by his side, and drew his head to her breast.“Ah!” he sighed, restfully, as he flung his arms about her neck. “I can speak now. I should have fought it all back; but when I came in here, and saw all those frightened women, and you spoke as you did about being so helpless, it was too much for me.”“Oh, nonsense!” she cried, soothingly. “Why should their—our—foolish weakness affect you, my own brave boy?”“No, no, mother,” he cried; “don’t—don’t speak like that. You hurt me more.”“Hurt you?” she said, in surprise.“Yes, yes,” he cried, excitedly. “You don’t know; but you must know—you shall know. I’m not brave. I’m a miserable coward.”“Roy! Shame upon you!” cried Lady Royland, reproachfully.“Yes, shame upon me,” said the lad, bitterly; “but I can’t help it. I have tried so hard; but I feel such a poor weak boy—a mere impostor, trying to lord it over all these men.”“Indeed!” said Lady Royland, gravely. “Yes? Go on.”“I know they must see through me, from Ben down to the youngest farm hand. They’re very good and kind and obedient because I’m your son; but they, big strong fellows as they are, must laugh at me in their sleeves.”“Ah! you feel that?” said Lady Royland.“Yes, I feel what a poor, girlish, weak thing I am, and that all this is too much for me. Mother, if it were not for you and for very shame, I believe I should run away.”“Go on, Roy,” sand Lady Royland; and her sweet, deep voice seemed to draw the most hidden thoughts of his breast to his lips.“Yes, I must go on,” he cried, excitedly. “I hid it all when I went to face that officer, who saw through me in spite of my bragging words, and laughed; and in the wild excitement of listening to-night to the troopers closing us in and trying to capture those poor fellows, I did not feel anything like fear; but now it is all over and they are safe, I am—I am—oh, mother! it is madness—it is absurd for me, such a mere boy, to go on pretending to command here, with all this awful responsibility of the fighting that must come soon. I know that I can’t bear it—that I must break down—that I have broken down. I can’t go on with it; I’m far too young. Only a boy, you see, and I feel now more like a girl, for I believe I could lie down and cry at the thought of the wounds and death and horrors to come. Oh, mother, mother! I’m only a poor pitiful coward after all.”“God send our poor distressed country a hundred thousand of such poor pitiful cowards to uphold the right,” said Lady Royland, softly, as she drew her son more tightly to her swelling breast. “Hush, hush, my boy! it is your mother speaks. There, rest here as you used to rest when you were the tiny little fellow whose newly opened eyes began to know me, whose pink hands felt upward to touch my face. You a coward! Why, my darling, can you not understand?”“Yes, I understand,” he groaned, as he clung to her, “that it is my own dear mother trying to speak comfort to me in my degradation and shame. Mother, mother! I would not have believed I was such a pitiful cur as this.”“No,” she said, softly; “I am speaking truth. You do not understand that after the work and care of all this terrible time of preparation, ending in the great demands made upon you to-day, the strain has been greater than your young nature can bear. Bend the finest sword too far, Roy, and it will break. You are overdone—worn-out. It is not as you think.”“Ah! it is you who do not know, mother,” he said, bitterly. “I am not fit to lead.”“Indeed! you think so?” she said, pressing her lips to his wet, cold brow. “You say this because you look forward with horror to the bloodshed to come.”“Yes; it is dreadful. I was so helpless to-night, and I shall be losing men through my ignorance.”“Helpless to-night? But you beat the enemy off.”“No, no—Ben Martlet’s doing from beginning to end.”“Perhaps. The work of an old trained man of war, who has ridden to the fight a score of times with your father, and now your brave father’s son’s right-hand—a man who worships you, and who told me only to-day, with the tears in his eyes, how proud he was of that gallant boy—of you.”“Ben said that—of me?”“Yes, my boy; and do you think with all his experience he cannot read you through and through?”“No, mother, he can’t—he can’t,” said the lad, despondently; “no one can know me as I do.”“Poor child!” she said, fondly, as she caressed him; “what a piece of vanity is this! A boy of seventeen thinking he knows himself by heart. Out upon you, Roy, for a conceited coxcomb! Why, we all know you better than you know yourself; and surely I ought to be the best judge of what you are.”“No,” said Roy, angrily; “you only spoil me.”“Indeed! then I shall go on, and still spoil you in this same way, and keep you the coward that you are.”“Mother!” he cried, reproachfully; “and with all this terrible responsibility rising like a dense black cloud before my eyes.”“Yes, Roy, because it is night now, and black night too, in your weary brain. Ah! my boy, and to how many in this world is it the same black night. But the hours glide on, the day dawns, and the glorious sun rises again to pierce the thick cloud of darkness, and brighten the gloomy places of the earth. Just as hope and youth and your natural vigour will chase away your black cloud, after the brain has been fallow for a few hours, and you have had your rest.”“No, no, no,” he groaned; “you cannot tell.”“I can tell you, Roy,” she said, softly; “and I can tell you, too, that your father is just such another coward as his son.”“My father!” cried Roy, springing to his feet, flushed and excited. “My father is the bravest, truest man who ever served the king.”“Amen to that, my boy!” said Lady Royland, proudly; “but do you think, Roy, that our bravest soldiers, our greatest warriors, have been men made of iron—cruel, heartless beings, without a thought of the terrible responsibilities of their positions, without a care for the sufferings of the men they lead? I believe it never has been so, and never will. Come, my darling,” she continued, clinging to his hands, and drawing herself to her feet—“come here for a little while. There,” she said, softly, taking the sword from the couch; “your blade is resting for a while; why should not you? Yes: I wish it; lie right down—for a little while—before we sup. Ah, that is better!”Utterly exhausted now, Roy yielded to her loving hands, and sank back upon the soft couch with a weary sigh; while, as he stretched himself out, she knelt by his side, and tenderly wiped his brow before passing her hands over his face, laying his long hair back over the pillow, and at every touch seeming to bring calm to the weary throbbing brain.After a few minutes he began to mutter incoherently, and Lady Royland leaned back to reach a feather-fan from a side-table, and then softly wafted the air to and frotill the words began to grow more broken, and at last ceased, as the boy uttered a low, weary sigh, his breath grew more regular, and he sank into the deep heavy sleep of exhausted nature.Then the fan dropped from Lady Royland’s hand, and she rose to cross the room softly, and with a line draw up the casement of the narrow slit of a window which looked down upon the moat, for the night wind came fresher there than from the main windows looking upon the garden court.Softly returning, she bent down, and with the lightest of fingers untied the collar of her son’s doublet and linen shirt, before bending lower, with her long curls drooping round his face, till she could kiss his brow, no longer dank and chilly, but softly, naturally warm.This before sinking upon her knees to watch by his side for the remainder of the night; and as she knelt her lips parted to murmur—“God save the king—my husband—and our own brave boy!”A moment later, as if it were an answer to her prayer, a voice, softened by the distance, was heard from the ramparts somewhere above uttering the familiar reply to a challenge—“All’s well!”
Lady Royland was surrounded by the trembling women of the household, who, scared by the firing, had sought her to find comfort and relief.
“What! the ten men safely brought in!” she cried, as her son hastened to tell his tidings. “And no one hurt?”
“No one on our side, mother,” said Roy, meaningly; “I cannot answer for those across the moat.”
“Our ten poor fellows here in safety,” cried Lady Royland, once again. “Oh, Roy, my boy, this is good news indeed! But you must be faint and exhausted. Come in the dining-room. I have something ready for you.—There, you have nothing to fear now,” she said, addressing the women; “but one of you had better go and tell Master Pawson that we are ready to sup.”
The women went out, some of them still trembling and hysterical, and all white and scared of aspect.
As soon as the door was closed, Lady Royland caught her son’s hand.
“Eight of us women,” she said, with a forced laugh: “eight, and of no use whatever; only ready to huddle together like so many sheep scared by some little dog; when, if we were men, we could be of so much help. There, come along; you look quite white. You are doing too much. For my sake, take care.”
Roy nodded and smiled, and followed his mother into the dining-room, where with loving care she had prepared everything for him, and made it attractive and tempting, so that it should be a relief to the harsh realities of the warlike preparations with which the boy was now mixed up.
“You must eat a good supper, Roy, and then go and have a long night’s rest.”
“Impossible, mother,” he said, faintly; “must go and visit the men’s posts from time to time.”
“No,” said Lady Royland, firmly, as she unbuckled her son’s sword-belt, and laid it and the heavy weapon upon a couch.
There was a tap at the door directly after, and one of the maids came back.
“If you please, my lady, I’ve been knocking ever so long at Master Pawson’s door, and he doesn’t answer. We think he has gone to bed.”
“Surely not. He must be in the upper chamber arranging about the things being removed.”
“No, my lady; that was all done a long time ago. It was finished before the fighting began, for he wouldn’t have nothing but his bed and washstand brought down. The men had to take most of the other things right down in the black cellar place underneath, so as to clear the chamber.”
“But did you ask the men on guard if they had seen him?”
“Yes, my lady; they say he shut himself up in his room.”
“That will do. Never mind,” said Lady Royland, dismissing the maid.—“Now, Roy, I am going to keep you company, and—oh, my boy! what is it? Ah! You are hurt!”
She flew to his side, and with trembling hands began to tear open his doublet, but he checked her.
“No, no, mother, I am not—indeed!”
“Then what is it? You are white and trembling, and your forehead is all wet.”
“Yes, it has come over like this,” he faltered, “all since the fight and getting the men in through the sally-port.”
“But you must have been hurt without knowing it.”
“No, no,” he moaned, as he sank back in the chair, and covered his face with his hands.
“Roy, my boy, speak out. Tell me. What is the matter?”
“I didn’t mean to speak a word, mother,” he groaned; “but I can’t keep it back.”
“Yes; speak, speak,” she said, tenderly, as she sank upon her knees by his side, and drew his head to her breast.
“Ah!” he sighed, restfully, as he flung his arms about her neck. “I can speak now. I should have fought it all back; but when I came in here, and saw all those frightened women, and you spoke as you did about being so helpless, it was too much for me.”
“Oh, nonsense!” she cried, soothingly. “Why should their—our—foolish weakness affect you, my own brave boy?”
“No, no, mother,” he cried; “don’t—don’t speak like that. You hurt me more.”
“Hurt you?” she said, in surprise.
“Yes, yes,” he cried, excitedly. “You don’t know; but you must know—you shall know. I’m not brave. I’m a miserable coward.”
“Roy! Shame upon you!” cried Lady Royland, reproachfully.
“Yes, shame upon me,” said the lad, bitterly; “but I can’t help it. I have tried so hard; but I feel such a poor weak boy—a mere impostor, trying to lord it over all these men.”
“Indeed!” said Lady Royland, gravely. “Yes? Go on.”
“I know they must see through me, from Ben down to the youngest farm hand. They’re very good and kind and obedient because I’m your son; but they, big strong fellows as they are, must laugh at me in their sleeves.”
“Ah! you feel that?” said Lady Royland.
“Yes, I feel what a poor, girlish, weak thing I am, and that all this is too much for me. Mother, if it were not for you and for very shame, I believe I should run away.”
“Go on, Roy,” sand Lady Royland; and her sweet, deep voice seemed to draw the most hidden thoughts of his breast to his lips.
“Yes, I must go on,” he cried, excitedly. “I hid it all when I went to face that officer, who saw through me in spite of my bragging words, and laughed; and in the wild excitement of listening to-night to the troopers closing us in and trying to capture those poor fellows, I did not feel anything like fear; but now it is all over and they are safe, I am—I am—oh, mother! it is madness—it is absurd for me, such a mere boy, to go on pretending to command here, with all this awful responsibility of the fighting that must come soon. I know that I can’t bear it—that I must break down—that I have broken down. I can’t go on with it; I’m far too young. Only a boy, you see, and I feel now more like a girl, for I believe I could lie down and cry at the thought of the wounds and death and horrors to come. Oh, mother, mother! I’m only a poor pitiful coward after all.”
“God send our poor distressed country a hundred thousand of such poor pitiful cowards to uphold the right,” said Lady Royland, softly, as she drew her son more tightly to her swelling breast. “Hush, hush, my boy! it is your mother speaks. There, rest here as you used to rest when you were the tiny little fellow whose newly opened eyes began to know me, whose pink hands felt upward to touch my face. You a coward! Why, my darling, can you not understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” he groaned, as he clung to her, “that it is my own dear mother trying to speak comfort to me in my degradation and shame. Mother, mother! I would not have believed I was such a pitiful cur as this.”
“No,” she said, softly; “I am speaking truth. You do not understand that after the work and care of all this terrible time of preparation, ending in the great demands made upon you to-day, the strain has been greater than your young nature can bear. Bend the finest sword too far, Roy, and it will break. You are overdone—worn-out. It is not as you think.”
“Ah! it is you who do not know, mother,” he said, bitterly. “I am not fit to lead.”
“Indeed! you think so?” she said, pressing her lips to his wet, cold brow. “You say this because you look forward with horror to the bloodshed to come.”
“Yes; it is dreadful. I was so helpless to-night, and I shall be losing men through my ignorance.”
“Helpless to-night? But you beat the enemy off.”
“No, no—Ben Martlet’s doing from beginning to end.”
“Perhaps. The work of an old trained man of war, who has ridden to the fight a score of times with your father, and now your brave father’s son’s right-hand—a man who worships you, and who told me only to-day, with the tears in his eyes, how proud he was of that gallant boy—of you.”
“Ben said that—of me?”
“Yes, my boy; and do you think with all his experience he cannot read you through and through?”
“No, mother, he can’t—he can’t,” said the lad, despondently; “no one can know me as I do.”
“Poor child!” she said, fondly, as she caressed him; “what a piece of vanity is this! A boy of seventeen thinking he knows himself by heart. Out upon you, Roy, for a conceited coxcomb! Why, we all know you better than you know yourself; and surely I ought to be the best judge of what you are.”
“No,” said Roy, angrily; “you only spoil me.”
“Indeed! then I shall go on, and still spoil you in this same way, and keep you the coward that you are.”
“Mother!” he cried, reproachfully; “and with all this terrible responsibility rising like a dense black cloud before my eyes.”
“Yes, Roy, because it is night now, and black night too, in your weary brain. Ah! my boy, and to how many in this world is it the same black night. But the hours glide on, the day dawns, and the glorious sun rises again to pierce the thick cloud of darkness, and brighten the gloomy places of the earth. Just as hope and youth and your natural vigour will chase away your black cloud, after the brain has been fallow for a few hours, and you have had your rest.”
“No, no, no,” he groaned; “you cannot tell.”
“I can tell you, Roy,” she said, softly; “and I can tell you, too, that your father is just such another coward as his son.”
“My father!” cried Roy, springing to his feet, flushed and excited. “My father is the bravest, truest man who ever served the king.”
“Amen to that, my boy!” said Lady Royland, proudly; “but do you think, Roy, that our bravest soldiers, our greatest warriors, have been men made of iron—cruel, heartless beings, without a thought of the terrible responsibilities of their positions, without a care for the sufferings of the men they lead? I believe it never has been so, and never will. Come, my darling,” she continued, clinging to his hands, and drawing herself to her feet—“come here for a little while. There,” she said, softly, taking the sword from the couch; “your blade is resting for a while; why should not you? Yes: I wish it; lie right down—for a little while—before we sup. Ah, that is better!”
Utterly exhausted now, Roy yielded to her loving hands, and sank back upon the soft couch with a weary sigh; while, as he stretched himself out, she knelt by his side, and tenderly wiped his brow before passing her hands over his face, laying his long hair back over the pillow, and at every touch seeming to bring calm to the weary throbbing brain.
After a few minutes he began to mutter incoherently, and Lady Royland leaned back to reach a feather-fan from a side-table, and then softly wafted the air to and frotill the words began to grow more broken, and at last ceased, as the boy uttered a low, weary sigh, his breath grew more regular, and he sank into the deep heavy sleep of exhausted nature.
Then the fan dropped from Lady Royland’s hand, and she rose to cross the room softly, and with a line draw up the casement of the narrow slit of a window which looked down upon the moat, for the night wind came fresher there than from the main windows looking upon the garden court.
Softly returning, she bent down, and with the lightest of fingers untied the collar of her son’s doublet and linen shirt, before bending lower, with her long curls drooping round his face, till she could kiss his brow, no longer dank and chilly, but softly, naturally warm.
This before sinking upon her knees to watch by his side for the remainder of the night; and as she knelt her lips parted to murmur—
“God save the king—my husband—and our own brave boy!”
A moment later, as if it were an answer to her prayer, a voice, softened by the distance, was heard from the ramparts somewhere above uttering the familiar reply to a challenge—
“All’s well!”