The Young Castellan: A Tale of the English Civil War

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  NEWS FROM THE WAR.

  Roy and the old soldier hurried to a slit which gave on the road, andthe latter began to breathe hard with excitement as his eyes rested uponthree dusty-looking horsemen, well-mounted, and from whose round-topped,spiked steel caps the sun flashed from time to time.

  "Why, they're dragoons!" cried the old fellow, excitedly. "Enemies,perhaps, and we're without a drawbridge as'll pull up. Here, quick,take a sword, Master Roy. Here's mine. Let's make a show. They won'tknow but what there's dozens of us."

  Roy followed the old soldier's commands, and, buckling on the sword,hurried with him down to the outer gate, just as the venerable oldretainer slammed it to with a heavy, jarring sound, and challenged thehorsemen, whom he could hardly see, to halt.

  "Well done, old man!" muttered Ben. "The right stuff, Master Roy,though he is ninety-four."

  "What is it?" cried Roy, as he reached the gate, where the men weredismounting and patting their weary troop-horses.

  "Despatches for Lady Royland," said one, who seemed to be the leader."Are you Master Roy, Sir Granby's son?"

  "Yes. Have you come from my father?"

  "Yes, sir, and made all the haste we could; but we've left two bravelads on the road."

  "What! their horses broke down?"

  "No, sir," said the man, significantly; "but they did."

  He took off his cap as he spoke, and displayed a bandage round hisforehead.

  "My mate there's got his shoulder ploughed, too, by a bullet."

  "Open the gates, Jenks," cried Roy.

  "One moment, sir," whispered Ben. "Get the despatches and see ifthey're in your father's writing."

  "Right," whispered back Roy. "Here!--your despatches."

  "No, sir," said the man, firmly. "That's what they asked who barred theway. Sir Granby's orders were to place 'em in his lady's hands."

  "Quite right," said Roy. "But show them to me and let me see myfather's hand and seal."

  "Yes, that's right enough, sir," said the man. "We might be enemies;"and he unstrapped a wallet slung from his right shoulder, took out agreat letter tied with silk and sealed, and held it out, first on oneside, then upon the other, for the boy to see.

  "Yes," cried Roy, eagerly, "that's my father's writing, and it is hisseal. Open the gate, Jenkin, and let them in. Why, my lads, you lookworn-out."

  "Not quite, sir; but we've had a rough time of it. The country's fullof crop-ears, and we've had our work cut out to get here safe."

  "Full of what?" said Roy, staring, as the troopers led in their horses,and he walked beside the man who bore the despatches.

  "Crop-ears, sir,--Parliamentary men."

  "Is it so bad as that?"

  "Bad? Yes, sir."

  "But my father--how is he?"

  "Well and hearty when he sent us off, sir."

  "Come quickly then," cried Roy, hurrying the men along to the greatdrawbridge, over which the horses' hoofs began to rattle loudly. Butthey had not gone half-way across the moat before there was the rustleof a dress in front, and, looking ghastly pale and her eyes wild withexcitement, Lady Royland came hurrying to meet them.

  Roy sprang to her, crying--

  "Letters from father, and he is quite well!"

  He caught his mother in his arms, for her eyes closed and she reeled andwould have fallen; but the next minute she had recovered her composure,and held out her hand for the packet the trooper had taken from hiswallet.

  "Thank you," she said, smiling. "Martlet, take these poor tired fellowsinto the hall at once, and see that they have every attention. Set someone to feed their horses."

  "Thank you, my lady," said the man, with rough courtesy, as he took offhis steel cap.

  "Ah, you are wounded," cried Lady Royland, with a look of horror.

  "Only a scratch, my lady. My comrade here is worse than I."

  "Your wounds shall be seen to at once."

  "If I might speak, my lady, a place to sit down for an hour or two, andsomething to eat and drink, would do us more good than a doctor. Wehaven't had a good meal since we rode away from Whitehall and along thewestern road a week ago."

  "Eight days and a harf, comrad'," growled one of his companions.

  "Is it? Well, I haven't kept count."

  "See to them at once, Martlet," said Lady Royland; and the horses wereled off, while, clinging to her son's arm, the anxious wife and motherhurried into the library, threw herself into a chair, tore open thegreat letter, and began, wild-eyed and excited, to read, while Roywalked up and down the room with his eyes fixed longingly upon thedespatch till he could bear it no longer.

  "Oh, mother!" he cried, "do, do, do pray give me a little bit of thenews."

  "My poor boy! yes. How selfish of me. Roy, dear, there is somethingterribly wrong! Your dear father says he has been half-mad withanxiety, for he has sent letter after letter, and has had no news fromus. So at last he determined to send his own messengers, and despatchedfive men to guard this letter to us--but I saw only three."

  "No," said Roy, solemnly; "the roads are in the hands of the enemy,mother, and two of the poor fellows were killed on the way. Two ofthese three are wounded."

  "Yes, yes! Horrible! I could not have thought matters were so bad asthis."

  "But father is quite well?"

  "Yes, yes, my dear; but he says the king's state is getting desperate,and that he will have to take the field at once. But the letters Isent--that he sent, my boy?"

  "They must have all fallen into the enemy's hands, mother. How badeverything must be! But pray, pray, go on. What does he say?"

  Lady Royland read on in silence for a few moments, and, as she read, thepallor in her face gave way to a warm flush of excitement, while Roy, inspite of his eagerness to hear more, could not help wondering at thefirmness and decision his mother displayed, an aspect which wassupported by her words as she turned to her son.

  "Roy," she cried, "I was obliged to read first, but you shall knoweverything. While we have been here in peace, it seems that a terriblerevolution has broken out, and your father says that it will only be bydesperate efforts on the part of his friends that the king's positioncan be preserved. He says that these efforts will be made, and that theking shall be saved."

  "Hurrah!" shouted the boy, wildly. "God save the king!"

  "God save the king!" murmured Lady Royland, softly, with her eyesclosed; and her words sounded like a prayerful echo of her son'sutterance.

  There was a pause for a few moments, and then Lady Royland went on.

  "Your father says that we lie right out of the track of the troublehere, and that he prays that nothing may disturb us; but as the countrygrows more unsettled with the war, evil men will arise everywhere, readyto treat the laws of the country with contempt, and that it is our dutyin his absence to be prepared."

  "Prepared! Yes, mother," cried Roy, excitedly; and he flung himselfupon his knees, rested his elbows on his mother's lap, and seized herhands. "Go on, go on!"

  "He says that you have grown a great fellow now, and that the time hascome for you to play the man, and fill his place in helping me in everyway possible."

  "Father says that, mother?" cried the boy, flushing scarlet.

  "Yes; and that he looks to you to be my counsellor, and, with the helpof his faithful old servant Martlet, to do everything you can to put theplace in a state of defence."

  "Why, mother," said Roy, "old Ben will go mad with delight."

  Lady Royland suppressed a sigh, and went on firmly.

  "He bids me use my discretion to decide whom among the tenants andpeople of the village I can--we can--trust, Roy, and to call upon themto be ready, in case of an emergency, to come in here and help toprotect the place and their own belongings; but to be very careful whomI do trust, for an enemy within the gates is a terrible danger."

  "Yes, of course," cried Roy, whose head seemed once more in a whirl.

  "He goes on to say that th
ere may not be the slightest necessity for allthis, but the very fact of our being prepared will overawe people whomight be likely to prove disaffected, and will keep wandering bands ofmarauders at a distance."

  "Of course--yes; I see," cried Roy, eagerly. "Yes, mother, I'll go towork at once."

  "You will do nothing foolish, I know, my boy," said the mother, layingone hand upon his head and gazing proudly in his eyes.

  "Nothing if I can help it," he cried; "and I'll consult you ineverything, but--but--"

  "Yes, my boy, speak out."

  "I don't want to hurt your feelings, dear, and yet if I speak of a swordor a gun--"

  Lady Royland shivered slightly, but she drew a long, deep breath, andraised herself up proudly.

  "Roy," she said, "that was in times of peace, before this terribleemergency had arisen. As a woman, I shrink from bloodshed andeverything that suggests it. It has been my constant dread that you, myboy, should follow your father's profession. `My boy a soldier!' Isaid, as I lay sleepless of a night, and I felt that I could not bearthe thought. But Heaven's will be done, my son. The time has come whenmy weak, womanly fears must be crushed down, and I must fulfil my dutyas your dear father's wife. We cannot question his wisdom. A terriblecrisis has come upon our land, and we must protect ourselves and thosewho will look to us for help. Then, too, your father calls upon us totry to save his estate here from pillage and the ruthless wrecking ofwicked men. Roy, my boy, I hope I shall not be such a weak woman now,but your help and strengthener, as you will be mine. You will not hurtmy feelings, dear, in what you do. You see," she continued, smiling, asshe laid her hand upon the hilt of the sword the lad had so hastilybuckled on, "I do not wince and shudder now. Fate has decided upon yourcareer, Roy, young as you are, and I know that my son's sword, like hisfather's, will never be drawn unless it is to protect the weak andmaintain the right."

  "Never, mother," cried the boy, enthusiastically; and as Lady Roylandtried to raise him, he sprang to his feet. "Oh," he cried, "I wish Iwere not such a boy!"

  "I do not," said his mother, smiling. "You are young, and I am only awoman, but our cause will make us strong, Roy. There," she continued,embracing him lovingly, "the time has come to act. You will consultwith Martlet what to do about the defences at once, while I write backto your father. When do you think the men will be fit to go back?"

  "They'd go to-night, mother; they seem to be just the fellows; but theirhorses want two or three days' rest."

  "Roy!"

  "Yes, mother. It's a long journey, and they'll have to go byout-of-the-way roads to avoid attack."

  "But we have horses."

  "Yes, mother, but they would sooner trust their own."

  Lady Royland bowed her head.

  "The letters must go back by them," she said, "and they must start atthe earliest minute they can. But there is another thing. It is rightthat Master Pawson should be taken into our counsels."

  "Master Pawson, mother?"

  "Yes, my boy. He is your father's trusted servant, and I must notslight any friends. Go and ask him to come here."

  "Can't," said Roy, shortly. "He went out this morning, and said hedidn't think he would be back to dinner."

  "Indeed!"

  "Gone over to see the vicar."

  "Gone to Mr Meldew," said Lady Royland, whose face looked very grave."Then it must be deferred till his return. Now, Roy, what will you dofirst?"

  "See to the gates, mother, and that no one goes out or comes in withoutleave."

  "Quite right, Captain Roy," said Lady Royland, smiling.

  The boy looked at her wonderingly.

  "My heart is more at rest, dear," she said, gently, "and that achinganxiety is at an end. Roy, we know the worst, and we must act for thebest."