CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
A DARK NIGHT'S DEEDS.
At that moment, when Roy would have surrendered his life to have rungout an alarm, the signal of danger, treachery, and hopeless disasterrang out in the form of a shot from the battlements overhead, and thiswas followed by another and another. But as the prisoner was hurriedinto the open air, armed men seemed to be gliding out of the darkness onall sides, their source, as far as he could make out in those agitatedmoments, being the bases of the towers. Then, as the trumpet rang out,fighting began all around the castle at once, not from the outside, butfrom within. Men had evidently crept silently up to the four towers,and gathered there from the corridors to which they had been admitted;and at the sound of the trumpet, a simultaneous attack was made, which,coming from the unguarded rear, and in tremendous, constantly increasingforce, could not fail of being successful.
Roy stood there in the midst of his mother's once pleasant garden, withthe stars glinting over his head, and guarded by half-a-dozen troopers,listening to the clash of steel, and the firing going on all round wherethe little garrison made desperate efforts to maintain themselves. Butthey could not even grow stronger by joining, for the occupants of eachtower were isolated and driven back as they tried to communicate withtheir officers, who, at the first alarm, tried to lead the men in theguard-room to the gathering point selected in case of emergency. Benhad just lit his lantern, expecting the coming of Roy at twelve, whenthe first shot came; and, shouting an alarm, he drew his sword to dashout, but only to be hurled back, the door-way of the guard-room beingblocked by men; while, when the occupants of the chambers beneath theplatforms of each tower tried to descend, they, too, in spite ofdesperate efforts, were driven upward by the constantly arrivingenemies, who forced them on to the leads by the now useless guns.
Here, in each case, a desperate encounter went on, which Roy, with hisblood running cold, was able to mentally picture, as he stood therelistening to the wild shouts of the attacking party, the defiant criesof the garrison--the mere handfuls of men who tried to hold their own.
There was no more firing: all was being done with the keen-edged nakedblade for a few minutes; and this was followed by a wild despairing cryfrom the gate tower, and directly after there was a dull, sickeningcrash which told that a man had been hurled from the parapet into thecourt-yard, where he lay never to move again.
The shock of this was succeeded by others nearly as terrible, as thestruggle went on at the tops of the different towers; and cry after cryarose, followed by heavy splash after splash, which, Roy interpretedrightly, meant that the victors were driving the defenders over thebattlements into the moat, to sink or swim for life as they could.
A mad feeling of rage and despair seized upon the boy as he heard allthis, and he struggled desperately with his captors in his endeavours toescape, and try to aid the poor fellows fighting to the death in theirvain efforts to defend the place.
Vain, too, were his efforts; for a couple of men held him while otherswrenched his arms behind his back, and tearing off his gay scarf, boundhis elbows so tightly together that he could not stir, but had to listenhelplessly to the yells and despairing cries that arose towards thesilent vault of heaven.
It seemed to Roy like an hour of horror, during which he was listeningto what seemed to be the massacre of the men, every one of whom helooked upon as a friend. But it was only a matter of a few minutes atthe most, before a shout rang out from the top of the gate tower, to beanswered with a burst of wild "hurrahs" from the four corners, and theramparts as well; for the clashing of swords, the yells of rage, and thesounds of fierce and desperate struggles going on had ceased.
Roy's despair was at its height; he knew that the castle was taken, andits defenders killed, hurled into the moat, or captive.
But the boy's sinking heart gave one leap, for he knew that theflickering fire of defence blazed up in one spot, and that was in theguard-room, where he calculated that there must be twelve or fourteenmen, with Ben Martlet, Farmer Raynes, and the corporal.
He was nearly right to a man. There were, including their officers,twelve men penned up in the big stone chamber, where they had plenty ofarms and ammunition. The others had their quarters in the five chambersin the towers, and were stationed as sentinels. All these had beenaccounted for, save the wounded men in hospital.
And as Roy listened to the hurrying tramp of feet, there was gatheringsilence on the ramparts, while around him, in the court-yard, hundredsof men were united and drawn up in line.
Then, in the darkness beneath the gate-way, Roy heard a commanding voicecall upon the men in the guard-room to surrender.
"What?" came out clearly in a harsh, snarling voice, which Roy hardlyknew as Ben's. "Do what?"
"Surrender, my man! The place is taken."
"Yes, by cowardly treachery, Ben," yelled Roy, desperately. "Don't givein. Fight to the last."
A man came hurrying up, and the secretary, fierce with passion, stoodbefore him.
"If this boy dares to speak another word, ram a gag in his mouth.--No,not yet.--Here, bring him up to the gate."
Roy was half pushed and dragged to the great archway, and, as he reachedit, the clock chimed the quarter after midnight.
"Now, general," cried Pawson, "we'll have them out. It's not worthwhile to waste good men's lives to tear a set of mad rats out of theirhole."
"Well, get them out," said the same commanding voice, and in the officera short distance from him, Roy recognised the one he had met with theflag of truce.
"Now, then, if you value your life," snarled Pawson in the boy's ear,"order those fools to come out before we blow them to pieces with a kegof powder. Do you hear? Come forward and speak!"
Roy felt a fierce desire to spit in the traitor's face, but he masteredhimself and stepped forward.
"Ah, you've come to your senses, then," said Pawson. "Lucky for you, mypopinjay. Now, then, tell them to surrender."
"Why?" said Roy, spitefully. "They don't know what it means."
"Speak!" cried Pawson; and he pricked the lad with the point of hissword.
Roy in those terrible moments had to fight hard to be dignified, as hefelt he ought to be, before the enemy; but the desire was strong uponhim, when he felt a slight prick in the side from the keen point of thesword, to turn round and kick his aggressor with all his might.
Then he spoke.
"Sergeant Martlet, corporal, Farmer Raynes, all of you, I'm a prisoner,and can't help myself. There are two or three hundred men here. Canyou hear me?"
"Ay, ay, sir; go on," cried Ben.
"They bid me tell you to surrender. What do you say?"
"Let 'em come and make us. God save her ladyship and the king!"
"Hurrah!" came rolling back from nearly a dozen lusty throats, and wasfollowed by a shout from Ben.
"Get back, Master Roy; we're going to fire."
"Then fire," cried Roy. "Never mind me now."
Another cheer followed this; and there was a rattling noise which Royinterpreted, for he knew that the men in the guard-room had seized thepikes from the rack, and that a bristling hedge of steel was beingformed in the door-way.
Just then the officer in command stepped forward.
"Silence there!" he cried, in a loud clear voice. "Listen to me, mymen. The castle is taken, and I have four hundred men here. You arethe only defenders left.--Sergeant Martlet, I suppose you are an oldsoldier, and if so, you know this boy's words are madness. Enough menhave perished, and I should be sorry to add your party to those who havemade so brave a defence. Come, you have all done your duty, and yourcase is hopeless; surrender, and you shall suffer no harm."
"When my captain tells me--not before."
"Well spoken, and like a brave man," said the officer; and he turned toRoy.
"Now, captain," he said, and there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice,"you don't want those stout fellows shot down, or smothered like rats intheir holes. Tell them to give up t
heir arms and come out."
"To a set of cowards who attacked us as you did with the help of thattreacherous dog!" cried Roy, passionately. "No!"
"Hurrah!" was shouted from the guard-room door and Farmer Raynes roaredout:
"Well said, Master Roy; we'll beat 'em yet."
"Take that boy away," cried the officer; and Roy was dragged to oneside, where he heard the speaker again bid the party surrender; but onlyreceived a shout of defiance in reply.
A few short, sharp orders followed; and Roy quivered with passion as hesaw from the brightening sparks that a party of men who tramped forwardwere blowing the matches of their firelocks.
An order followed, and a ragged volley was fired in at the door, whichwas answered by a cheer, and directly after by half-a-dozen shots andsome confusion among the attacking party, for two men staggered back andfell groaning upon the stones.
The officer stamped his foot.
"Pikes and swords," he cried; and in obedience to his orders a littlecolumn of a score of men dashed forward and tried to enter, thrusting intheir pikes; and as many as could get to the door striving desperately,but only to be beaten back, and their discomfiture increased by a fewmore shots.
The attack was resumed with fresh men again and again, but the defendersfought desperately, and in every case the attacking party were drivenback with several men badly wounded.
"Block the place up and starve them out," said Pawson.
"No," said the officer sternly. "The work must be done at once.Powder," he cried to a couple of men near him, and a party marched off.
After a short delay, during which Roy looked vainly round for thesecretary, the latter appeared again with the men, one of whom bore akeg. To this a piece of fuse was attached ready for lighting, and theofficer walked to Roy's side.
"Look here, youngster," he said. "I shall stand at nothing to completethe reduction of this nest. You see that keg of powder. If these mendo not surrender at once, I shall treat them as desperate vermin andblast them out or bury them, with perhaps half the tower upon theirheads. It rests with you whether I shall kill a dozen or so of bravemen or spare them. Which is it to be?"
Roy was silent.
"Come," said the officer, "I want to be merciful now. You are SirGranby Royland's son. He is a brave soldier, though mistaken indefending a tyrant. I tell you that when a cause is hopeless he wouldact as I ask you to do. Now you have well proved your courage, and youspoke before in the rage of defeat. Speak now as a brave officer whowould not willingly sacrifice his men. What do you say?"
Roy said nothing, for his heart swelled with emotion, and the wordswould not come. The officer came closer, so that none other could hear.
"In God's name, boy," he whispered, "don't force me to do this brutalact; I ask you as the son of a brave soldier. Tell them to surrendernow."
The way in which these words came to Roy's ear achieved that which nothreats or insult would have done. It was an enemy speaking, butsomething told him that he was a brave soldier too; and without anotherword Roy stepped up to the door-way, from whence a mistaken shot mighthave laid him low.
The officer grasped this, and shouted loudly--
"Within there! Don't fire!"
It was only just in time, for half-a-dozen muskets were presented.
The next moment Roy's voice rang out clearly:
"Sergeant Martlet, corporal, Raynes, all of you, we have done our duty,and it is hopeless to fight longer. You are the only men left. Toresist is to give all your lives for nothing. March out and throw downyour arms."
A groan rose from within, and a figure came to the door-way.
"Don't say that, Master Roy," cried Ben, hoarsely. "Couldn't we do itif we held out?"
"No; they will blow the place up. The powder is waiting. I am yourcaptain; I order you to surrender now."
"Master Roy! Master Roy!" cried the old soldier in a piteous voice; "itwas no doing of mine. I was on the alert. Don't think it was any faultof mine."
"Fault of yours, Ben?" cried Roy. "No, nor mine neither."
"But how did they get in, sir?"
"By the secret passage that we could not find."
"But how? Where can it be?"
"I've been thinking, Ben. I don't know for certain; but it must openinto Master Pawson's room."
"And he let 'em through?"
"Yes; filling the corridors silently with troops while I slept."
"The traitor! Then that was the signal, boy. Oh, my lad, my lad, whydidn't I kill him when I thought it must be he? What about repairingthe stone gallows now?"
"I--don't understand you."
"The lowering of the flag, sir--the lowering of the flag."
"Yes," said the officer, who had advanced to them unobserved in thegloom of the archway; "that was the signal, sergeant. You were betrayedfrom within. Step out now with your men, like the brave fellow you are.Give me your hand; and let me tell you that I don't believe I couldhave taken the place without."
"Am I to surrender, Master Roy?" said the old fellow, bitterly.
"Yes, Ben; it is all over now."
The hilt of a sword was thrust out as the old soldier held it to theofficer by the blade.
"Shake hands with that, sir," he said, bitterly. "I'm a king's manstill.--Forward!"
This to his brave companions; and as they marched slowly out and gave uptheir arms, a tremendous roar arose from all assembled in thecourt-yard.
It was no derisive cry, no jeer at the conquered, but a full-throatedcheer of admiration for the brave little party, blood-stained, bandagedroughly, three of them hardly able to keep their feet; and Roy's heartonce more swelled within him in spite of his despair, for he noticed inthe gloom that the officer in command took off his helmet as the menmarched by into the court; and then, as he replaced it, he said quietlyto Roy--
"All this is not necessary, sir.--Quick, one of you; untie thisgentleman's hands."
For the first time that night, Roy felt giddy and sick with pain. Buthe roused himself directly, for Master Pawson came up, and spoke quicklyin a low voice to the officer, who replied coldly, and with a ring ofcontempt in all as he said, loudly--
"Of course, sir," he said, "in some things, by the terms of yourbargain, you are master here of the place and the estate. All that theParliament desires is the destruction of the castle as a stronghold; butas to the garrison, that is another thing. We shall hold the place fora time, and while I await further orders the prisoners will be mycharge."
He turned to give some orders, and the secretary turned to Roy.
"Yes," he said, "I am master here now of everything; so go and take offall that tawdry rubbish. You will never make a soldier, and I shalltame down all this bullying haughtiness. You never thought my day wouldcome when I was forced to put up with the insults and jeers of amiserable cub of a boy. But every man has his day. Your party has gonedown at last, and mine is in power. Ah, you may pretend not to hear me,and that you treat everything I say with contempt! Judas, am I, becauseI saved bloodshed by a diplomatic stroke? Well, we shall see. You'llcome cringing to me soon."
"When my father returns, and, if you have not already been hung for atraitor, he punishes you as you deserve. Shall I cringe to you, then?"
"Your father," said Pawson, mockingly. "Your proud swashbuckling fatheris dead,--killed as he deserved, with scores of his fighting bullies.You may look to me as your father now. Your mother and I thought itbetter to end this sham defence at once. Hah! does that sting you? Ithought I should manage it at last. Yes, she thought with me. A fine,handsome woman still, Roy, and a clever one, though she did pet andspoil her idiotic cub of a son. But there, I forgive her, and weunderstand each other fully now. Ha, ha! I thought that would touchyou home!"
Roy nearly staggered as he heard these words, and the next moment hewould have flung himself at the traitor's throat; but just then afriendly hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the officer said--
"I
have given orders for your wounded men to be seen by our doctor.Meanwhile, you had better come with me."
He passed his arm through Roy's, and turned his back on Pawson, marchingthe lad towards the private apartments of the castle; while the traitorstood gazing after them, stung as deeply as his victim now in turn.
The Young Castellan: A Tale of the English Civil War Page 29
