Boscobel; or, the royal oak: A tale of the year 1651
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CHAPTER VII.
HOW CHARLES AND TRUSTY DICK WERE FRIGHTENED BY THE MILLER OF EVELITH.
The night was so dark, that without a guide it would have been utterlyimpossible for the king to find his way through the forest. TrustyDick, however, experienced no difficulty, but marched along through thetrees at a quick pace, and Charles kept close beside him. The cracklingof sticks and small branches which they crushed beneath their feetas they proceeded, and the rustling of fallen leaves, betrayed theircourse, but they did not talk much, lest they should be overheard bya patrol of the enemy. Now and then they paused to listen, and on oneoccasion, fancying he heard the sound of horses' feet in the distance,Dick immediately struck into another path; but he did not stray farfrom the direct course.
At this hour there was something mysterious in the gloom of the forest,that acted very powerfully on the king's imagination, and led him tofancy that he discerned strange figures among the trees. But RichardPenderel, to whom he communicated his apprehensions, treated them verylightly.
"Your majesty needn't be alarmed," he said. "The forms you behold aremerely trunks of old trees, or projecting boughs. They have a weirdlook at this time, and I myself have been scared by 'em."
At length they emerged from the forest, and got upon a widecommon--greatly to the king's relief, for he had begun to feeloppressed by the gloom. The fresh air, so different from the dampatmosphere he had just been inhaling, laden with the scent of decayingleaves and timber, produced an exhilarating effect upon him, and hestrode along vigorously.
While crossing the common, they descried a patrol of horse apparentlyproceeding in the direction of White Ladies or Boscobel, but theyeasily avoided them, and quitting the common, they soon afterwardsmounted a steep hill, on the other side of which was a brook thatturned a water-mill. As they drew near the mill, the sound of voicesbrought them to a halt. The hour being now late, it was singular thatany persons should be astir, and Trusty Dick, naturally alarmed by thecircumstance, at first thought of turning back. But to do so would havetaken him and his companion considerably out of their course, and hetherefore hesitated.
"This is Evelith Mill," he observed in a low voice to Charles,"Roger Bushell, the miller, is a cross-grained fellow, and I think aRoundhead, so I shouldn't like to trust him."
"'Tis safer not," replied the king. "How far are we from Madeley?"
"About two miles," replied Dick. "But if we were obliged to turn backit will add another mile, at least, to the distance."
"Then let us go on," said the king.
So they waited quietly for a few minutes, when the light disappeared,and the voices became hushed.
"Roger Bushell has gone to bed at last," observed Charles. "We mayproceed on our way."
So they marched on without fear. But the king was wrong, in hissupposition, for as they passed the mill a gruff voice called out, "Whogoes there?"
"'Tis the miller himself," whispered Dick.
"Well, answer him," said Charles.
Again the challenge was repeated, and more authoritatively than before,"Who are you? Speak!"
"Friends," replied Dick."
"I know you not," cried the sturdy miller. "If you be friends, standand give an account of yourselves, or sure as I'm an honest man, andyou are a couple of rogues, I'll knock you down."
And he brandished a stout staff as he spoke.
"What shall we do?" asked Charles.
"Beat a retreat," replied Dick. "It won't do to be stopped here."
And as the miller rushed forth to seize them they hurried off; andascended another hill, never stopping till they were quite out ofbreath.
"This is a most disgraceful retreat, I must say, Dick," observedCharles.
"I should like to have knocked the dust out of Roger Bushell's jerkin,"rejoined Dick. "But I am certain he has got some rebels with him, or hewould not have dared to act thus."