'Parliament cannot afford to send too many men, for there is still need to keep them in the north.'
'After Marston Moor?' queried Mr Carlyon.
'A setback only, we hope,' Petroc said reassuringly. 'One major defeat of Parliament here, and the Royalists will rally. They are at the moment stunned, but not defeated.'
'Does Essex still hold Lostwithiel?' asked Mistress Trevose.
'After a fashion. But if the defence is as effective as that at Restormel, he will not hold it for long.'
'What happened at Restormel?' Morwenna put in.
'We simply walked in,' Petroc said, and laughed at their astonished expressions. 'Do you know the castle, Kate?' he asked, turning to her, and she shook her head.
'I have seen it as we passed through Lostwithiel,' she answered. 'Is it a ruin?'
'Aye, but still a stronghold. It stands on a mound in a bend of the river, and three sides are excessively steep, too steep for an attacking army to have much hope of success, even the army that won at Stratton! The fourth side sloping away from the river, is less steep but easy to defend, and though the castle is partly ruined the walls are strong and give adequate protection. But early in the morning Grenvile stormed it, and John Weare and his regiment simply withdrew.'
'John Weare? Is he not a Devonshire man?' Mr Carlyon asked, and nodded in satisfaction when Petroc said he was. 'I would not expect better of Devon folk!'
'Did they not fight?' Kate asked.
'No resistance at all. I do not know whether they had orders to retreat, but they fled to Lostwithiel, left us in control of Restormel, and later in the day we were able to capture Beacon Hill and Druids Hill so now we overlook Lostwithiel from the north and the east. Essex is to the south, being pushed towards Fowey. The King plans to send Goring round behind him, to encircle him and prevent foraging towards St Blazey, also to make sure Essex has no access to the sea at Par.'
'He will have a very extended front, guarding this side of the river as well,' Mr Carlyon commented worriedly.
'Thin, but determined. We have twice the men Essex has.'
'Will they attempt to break out across the river?' Mistress Trevose asked worriedly, looking at Morwenna in concern.
'I doubt it, for there are too few boats. They put their hope in Warwick being able to bring the fleet from Plymouth, but the weather worsens and that seems unlikely. If he does, I and some of my friends lie in wait to give what hindrance we can.'
'But there will be so few of you!' Kate exclaimed, alarmed, and Petroc flashed a reassuring smile at her.
'If it happens, enough of us to cause him trouble. But with the winds as they are I cannot expect him to make the attempt. I came today to visit the garrisons and my own boat, to see that all is in readiness, but methinks most of the action will be on the other side of the river.'
Petroc departed as soon as the meal was over, and Kate watched, reluctant to see him go, disappointed they had no private speech. Afterwards she retreated to her bedroom and forced herself to examine her feelings for him. Could she possibly have turned to him so soon after the discovery of Jon's perfidy? He was undeniably attractive, she admitted to herself, with his striking looks and audacious smile. He had been kind to her, but he seemed inconsistent, flirting outrageously one day, and apparently oblivious of her the next. She recalled the occasions when he had said or implied he intended to marry her, and then, with an angry shrug of her shoulders, decided it was but his way of attracting attention, and resolved she was not going to be taken in with such tricks. She could not have fallen in love with him for she had been in love with Jon, and would happily have married him if he had not been a traitor to the King.
*
Having made up her mind to this Kate rejoined the rest of the family, but was unusually quiet during the next few days as they all waited anxiously for news of the King's fortunes. Kate was restless and had to curb her restlessness, for the weather had become worse, with constant rain or wind, making it impossible to venture far from the house during the brief lulls. She sat and sewed industriously with Morwenna, who was more concerned with her coming child than with the King, and cared only that her Richard was safely at Falmouth, or on his ship, out of range of any battle that might develop.
Towards the end of the week news came that Essex had withdrawn from Lostwithiel, and it appeared the net was closing more tightly about him. Lord Goring had been sent to westwards of the Parliamentarians, and Essex was penned, with ten thousand men, into an area of less than ten square miles.
Late on the Friday afternoon the rain eased, and Kate went to walk in the garden. After one or two turns she stopped near the gate, and heard footsteps approaching. She opened the gate and stepped out to look down the hill into Bodinnick, and saw Nick with two bedraggled looking men climbing the steep lane. Nick saw her and waved, and she waited for them to reach her. Nick smiled, but he looked worried and Kate wondered what disturbed him.
'Nick! Is all well? Your father?' she asked quickly.
He smiled briefly. 'He is well, Kate. But there is urgent need to take these two fellows to the King, and I cannot go myself, I must stay with the boat. Events can move fast. Can Uncle spare a groom to escort them? And can they be fed? Poor fellows, they are half starved.'
Kate nodded, looking curiously at the men. Quickly she led them to the kitchen and found cold mutton pies and bread and cheese, which they thankfully demolished, while Nick went off to see his uncle. Within half an hour the men, mounted well and with a groom for guide, were sent on their way to Boconnoc, and Kate turned to Nick for an explanation.
'They are deserters,' he said abruptly. 'We found them crossing the river. They have some tale that Essex is planning for his cavalry to break through the Royalist line. Even if Warwick gets his ships to Fowey, he cannot take two thousand horse aboard. With our line so extended, there is a good chance they can succeed. But we cannot afford to allow them to escape, to live to fight us again. Now, I must return to the boat.'
Kate and the others were left, wondering what would happen. The following morning the groom returned with news that the warning had been given in vain. Despite the King's precautions, the Parliamentary horse had ridden through Lostwithiel during the night and broken past the Royalist guards on the Liskeard road. The man had a note which he said Petroc had asked to be sent to Nick, and anxious to hear more news the man could not give, Kate eagerly volunteered to be the messenger.
'I will row across to where he waits, in the boat you keep at the head of the creek,' she suggested to her uncle. 'That way I can find Nick's boat more speedily than from on top of the cliffs.'
She set off and followed the twisting path that wound down steeply through the trees to the head of the creek where the small rowing boat was moored. Finding the tide was with her, all she had to do was guide the boat with an occasional pull on the oars. She drifted slowly downstream, the creek widening perceptibly between the wooded banks. Soon she passed the landing stage to Tremor, and knew the boat could not be very far away. She pulled in towards the bank, and here the tide was less helpful and she had to pull more strongly on the oars, turning frequently to see where she was going, and whether the boat was yet in sight.
At last she saw it and stopped for a moment, holding her boat steady against an overhanging branch while she considered how best to approach. Her attention was caught by a movement on deck, and she watched as a man walked slowly into view, then turned and strolled away. Kate frowned. There was something odd about his movements. She waited and watched. Again he appeared, and she realised he was patrolling the deck, with a musket ready in his hands. She thought hard. Nick was unlikely to have taken such precautions. Or was he, in the present emergency, guarding his boat with what seemed elaborate precautions in this quiet place?
Kate decided to try and investigate further, and pushed her boat towards the bank, tying it firmly to a tree before running to scramble along the difficult route at the edge of the water that would bring her, unseen, nearer to
Nick's boat. As quietly as she could she eased her way along, and eventually came near to it. She watched closely, able to see the man parading up and down the deck on the far side, which faced the water. Then she stiffened, and suppressed a gasp. Another man had appeared beside the first, and his fair hair glinted in the sunshine as he removed his hat and leaned on the rail. It was Jon.
After staring disbelievingly for a while, Kate had to accept that, improbable as it seemed, Jon was on Nick's boat and apparently in charge, for the sentry was standing to attention while they spoke together. Puzzled, Kate drew back further into the shelter of the trees and considered this. She recalled Jon's interest in the boat when he had first seen it from the far side of the creek, and realised that instead of retreating to Plymouth as they had expected, he had obtained help, probably from Fowey, and captured the boat. It must have been during the last day, for otherwise Nick would have known of it when she had seen him.
But where was Nick? She began to worry. Jon might have taken the boat before he returned yesterday, or after, but in either case Nick could have been in danger, even killed. Kate began to consider where she could best obtain help. Would she find anyone able to help in Polruan? Then she remembered Tremor, nearer than Polruan, and most likely with servants. At the least there would be someone who knew her and could advise her where to find help.
*
With that she turned and began to climb diagonally up the side of the hill, aiming as well as she could judge to come out at the top near to Tremor. But she did not reach it. She had been walking for about ten minutes when she came upon a small hut clinging to the side of the hill in an open space scarcely large enough to be called a clearing. As she approached she heard a shout and stopped abruptly. It seemed to come from the hut. She listened, and it came again, but faintly. Cautiously Kate approached, and when she was a few yards away the shout was repeated.
The voice was hoarse, as if it had been shouting for a long time, but Kate felt certain that it was Nick's. If so, this solved the mystery of where he was and what Jon had done with him.
She went up to the door of the hut and cautiously pushed it, but it was firmly closed, apparently locked.
'Who is it?' she called.
'Kate!' The voice was certainly that belonging to Nick, and was sharp with surprise. 'Kate, 'tis Nick here, and some of my men. Can you open the door?'
'No, it appears to be locked. Are you hurt?'
'We are all tied and gagged, but I contrived to slip my gag off. Kate, can you find your way to Tremor and ask for help? This hut belongs to the Tremaines, and if they have no key they will bring something to break down the door.'
'I will be as quick as I can,' Kate answered, and resumed her trek up the hill, this time with greater urgency.
She was fortunate to meet one of the younger boys who recognised her when she reached the gardens that surrounded the house, and she swiftly explained to him and asked where best to obtain help. He took her in great excitement to his father and help was soon organized. Kate insisted on returning with the men to the hut, and Mr Tremaine smiled, a smile disturbingly reminiscent of Petroc's, and agreed.
There were six men in the hut, cramped together in the small space, and tied firmly. Nick explained rapidly as they set the men free that on the previous evening they had been attacked by a group of twenty or so men, who appeared to be Parliamentary soldiers, and imprisoned. After the long hours spent so uncomfortably they were in no condition to walk immediately, and Mr Tremaine sent back to the house for food and drink, while they rubbed their limbs to restore the use.
'Jon seems to be their leader,' Kate said quietly, sitting beside Nick. 'What does he intend to do?'
'I have been wondering that. I suspect he means to try to aid Essex escape from Fowey. Father said the soldiers have all the boats in the harbour prepared, in case they have to depart in a hurry. They are still hoping for relief out of Plymouth, but if it does not come, as many as can will attempt to escape in what boats they have. Mine is by far the fastest, but he shall not have it!'
Mr Tremaine had been listening. 'You cannot attack them with such small numbers, and after what you have undergone,' he declared. 'I will arrange to collect men. More of your crew are in Polruan, and some of my own men will be only too pleased to have an opportunity of attacking the enemy!'
Before Nick could thank him he was off, and Nick grinned at Kate.
'As he himself does!' he said quietly. 'But Kate, you must go home. I have not yet asked what brought you here, fortunate though it was for us.'
'Heaven forgive me!' Kate exclaimed. 'I had forgot!' She pulled the paper out of her pocket and handed it to Nick. 'Petroc sent this for you.'
Nick took it, read it swiftly and nodded. 'Aye, he wants his boat ready to intercept any escapes out of Fowey. I will send a message, it lies just over the headland. He says little except that the cavalry escaped after all.'
She told him all she knew, and then sighed. 'I suppose I had best return home. How maddening! Just when there is to be some excitement.'
'Danger too,' Nick said dryly. 'I hope Mr Tremaine can spare you an escort.'
Kate nodded slowly, her eyes clouding over.
'What will you do – to the men on your boat?' she asked slowly.
Nick shrugged. 'I do not feel like treating them leniently,' he answered.
'You would not kill them?'
'Not except in a fight,' Nick told her calmly.
'What about Jon?' she asked hesitantly.
Nick looked keenly at her. 'Do you still love the fellow?' he asked abruptly.
'No!' she said vehemently. 'Not after what he has done, but – once I did, and I would not like to think I had been in some way the cause of his death!'
'I will not hurt him if it can be avoided,' Nick promised, and Kate smiled in relief, then sat silently beside him.
Very soon Mr Tremaine had everything organised. He suggested the newly released men, as soon as they could walk, retired a little way off to wait until the time the boat was to be attacked, in case the Parliamentarians came to the hut. Kate he proposed to take back with him to Tremor.
'I have sent a message to your mother. It is too dangerous for you to row back across the creek until they are gone or defeated. You must stay with us at Tremor for a while, until we can retrieve that boat of yours, or send you round by road.'
Kate agreed, and reluctantly said farewell to Nick who was to stay with his men and organise the attack. Then she walked up to the house with Mr Tremaine and was handed over to the care of his wife while he busied himself with other arrangements to help Nick. She had been in the house only half an hour when there was a commotion in the hall, and she heard Nick's voice. They went to see what was happening, and found that the boat had escaped.
'It left before we had enough men to attack with any hope of success,' Nick explained. 'They have sailed across to Fowey and are anchored a little way out from the quay:'
Mr Tremaine wasted no time on lamentations. 'Then get you to Petroc's boat. At least you can attempt to stop them with that.'
Chapter 12
The King and his army entered Lostwithiel early in the morning of the last day of August. There was much anger that the Parliamentary horse had been allowed to break through the line, but the King viewed it philosophically.
'We had too great a distance to watch,' he said consolingly. 'At least they will not be facing us in the battle, and they appear to have lost hope. Now is the time to attack.'
About five hundred of the King's cavalry had been sent off at dawn in pursuit of the Parliamentarians, and the King moved against the town where they found a few soldiers attempting to break up the old bridge across the river. But it was a solid, nine-arched affair built four hundred years before, and their efforts were puny. The Royalists soon drove them off and they followed the rest of the infantry retreating along the narrow lane leading to Fowey. The King ordered guns to be brought up and trained on the hill where the Parliamentary rearguard
covered the retreat, and soon they also fell further back.
The townsfolk watched, many welcoming the Royalist troops, but others resentful their town had been made a battlefield in a quarrel they knew nothing about.
Several indignant burgesses were demanding to see the King.
'Will he control his troops better than the Earl?' they asked, 'We have suffered enough damage at their hands, and wish to have no more of it! Have you seen the Great Hall, or the damage to the church of Saint Bartholomew?'
It was explained to them the King was still with the rest of the army on the far side of the river, and after the battle which was sure to take place to the south of the town that day they would be able to see the King and lay their complaints before him. It seemed the Parliamentary troops had defaced the walls of the Great Hall before they had been driven out of the town, and had slightly damaged the church in an ineffectual attempt to blow it up.
Essex was retreating as swiftly as the muddy roads and the poor state of his gun carriages would permit. The Royalists discovered later that much of the harness was rotten, and hasty, inefficient repairs had been carried out on the march. The King closed in. To the west was most of the King's remaining cavalry, and this constantly harassed the retreating forces. The King crossed the river some way below Lostwithiel, and soon forced the infantry to abandon some of their heavy carts, with muskets and cannons.
Inexorably the Royalists pressed on, driving all before them for a couple of miles, gaining hedge after hedge as they pushed their enemy towards the sea. In the forefront of the Royalists were the King and his Lifeguards, and they bore much of the brunt of the fighting whenever the desperate Parliamentarians rallied to make a stand. On one occasion the gallantry of a major leading the Queen's troop into the enemy lines, despite the firing and the wounds he received, caused the King to call the man to him as he left after the encounter.
'You did well, Major Brett. I am fortunate to have such men about me. Is your wound severe?'
'A slight cut, Sire, that is all,' the Major replied.
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