“I must perform this act of penance for my sins,” cried Careless. “But I am so sleepy that I do not think I shall pass the night in prayer like the holy men who have previously sought refuge here. I do not require the light, good dame,” he added, giving back the lamp to her. “But I pray you not to close the trap-door, for I feel as if I should be suffocated in this hole.”
“Colonel Roscarrock slept two or three nights in the priest’s hole,” replied Joan; “and he chose to have the trap-door shut, judging it safer. But your honour’s instructions shall be carefully attended to, and the lamp shall be left on the table. I wish you good night.”
No sooner was she gone than Careless laid himself down upon the pallet, and notwithstanding the confined space, and the general discomfort of the priest’s hole, so greatly was he fatigued, that he immediately fell fast asleep.
* * *
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH THE KING PROVES HIMSELF A GOOD COOK.
All passed quietly that night at Boscobel. Charles slept soundly in the secret closet; and Careless slept equally soundly in the priest’s hole. The faithful brothers kept watch, by turns, outside the house, and Joan did not go to bed at all, but took a little repose in an arm-chair in the squire’s bedchamber. Careless awoke at an early hour in the morning, and left the garret as quickly as he could. Finding the king was not astir, he did not choose to disturb him, but went forth into the garden. After strolling about for a few minutes, he proceeded to the little mount we have already described, and entered the arbour on its summit. What was his surprise to find some one asleep there. It was Jasper, who was roused by Careless’s approach, and opened his eyes.
“You here!” exclaimed Careless.
“I have not been long here,” said the page. “I have been hidden in the forest, and have had several narrow escapes of capture.”
“Both his majesty and myself have been most anxious for your safety,” said Careless. “You look sadly tired.”
“Fasting does not very well agree with me,” replied Jasper. “One cannot find much to eat in the forest. I have had nothing for nearly twenty-four hours, and I find myself particularly hungry, I can assure you.”
“No wonder,” cried Careless, in a sympathising tone. “Come with me into the house, and I will get you some breakfast at once.”
“The offer is too welcome to be refused — though I confess I have some scruples. What will his majesty think of me?”
“His majesty will be delighted to see you — but he has not yet left his couch.”
What more passed between them we do not pretend to say, but they remained within the arbour for another minute or so, and then descending from the mount proceeded with very leisurely footsteps towards the porch.
“How strange is this meeting!” murmured Careless. “Never did I dream we should be here together.”
“’Tis a charming old place, I think, and I could be quite happy here for a month, if those Roundhead soldiers wouldn’t molest me.”
They were now not far from the porch, when a rustling was heard among the ivy that clothed the base of the chimney-stack, and the next moment the king came forth from the secret postern.
Jasper was quite startled by the sudden apparition, for so well concealed was the outlet that it could scarcely be detected, even when the observers were close at hand.
Charles smiled at the page’s look of astonishment.
“You are not familiar with the wonders of this enchanted castle,” he said. “But, i’faith, I should not have ventured forth if I had not reconnoitred you through a loophole.”
“I hope your majesty has rested well,” said the page, with an obeisance.
“Never better,” replied Charles. “I made one long nap of it. Where did you find a couch?”
“Partly at the foot of a tree, sire, and partly in yonder arbour, where Major Careless found me a few minutes ago.”
“Oddsfish! then you have passed the night in the forest?”
“Precisely so, sire.”
“And I fear without supper?”
“Supper would have been superfluous, if I had dined.”
“Careless, we must have breakfast instantly,” cried Charles. “Let me know when it is ready.”
“Come with me, Jasper, thou may’st be needed.”
“No; Jasper will remain with me. I want to talk to him.”
Careless rather reluctantly departed.
The king then began to question the page as to his adventures in the forest, but had not learnt all particulars, when Careless came back.
“Oddsfish! thou hast made haste,” exclaimed Charles.
“Dame Joan desires to know what it will please your majesty to have for breakfast.”
“Didst tell her I have company?”
“I explained that there is a hungry page with your majesty, and she thought he had best come in and render help.”
“Willingly,” cried Jasper.
“Nay, we will all go in,” said Charles.
Active preparations for the morning meal were being made in the hall as the king entered with his attendants.
A large fire was burning in the grate, at which Dame Joan was roasting a brace of partridges, that emitted a very delectable odour.
“Nothing can be better than those birds, dame, unless it be a broiled mutton chop?” he cried.
“There is a neck of mutton in the larder, an’ please your majesty, but I fear the meat may prove too fresh,” replied Joan.
“Heed not that,” cried Charles. “Mutton chops are the very thing. I will broil them myself. Bring me the gridiron, dame.”
Very much amused by the order, Joan obeyed, and the chops being duly prepared, were skilfully broiled by the king, who never for a moment quitted his post, but turned them with a fork when requisite.
While he was thus employed, William Penderel came in, and could scarcely believe his eyes when he found the king standing before the fire. But the faithful fellow did not remain long in doors, for he was now left alone for a time, his brothers having gone to their homes.
Having completed his task to his entire satisfaction, and the infinite amusement of the lookers-on, Charles proceeded to the head of the table, and bidding Careless and the page sit down on either side of him, the chops were served by Joan, and greatly enjoyed. Charles insisted that the good dame should taste his cookery, but she would touch nothing till she had served the partridges. She then discussed the chop at the lower end of the table, and declared, no doubt with truth, that she had never tasted aught so good in her life.
* * *
CHAPTER XI.
WHAT BROUGHT FATHER HUDDLESTONE TO BOSCOBEL.
After breakfast, Charles, attended by Careless, went out into the garden, and having previously consulted William Penderel, who did not seek to dissuade him from the step, visited the oak, and remained for a long time contemplating it with mingled gratitude and admiration. How majestic looked the tree on that morning! Before quitting it Charles spread his arms round its trunk in a loving embrace.
On returning to the garden, Charles proceeded to the arbour, and sat down within it. So pleasant was the spot, that for a short time he surrendered himself to the enjoyment of the moment, and sank into a calm reverie, from which he was rather rudely disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps, and looking out he saw Father Huddlestone, accompanied by Careless. Greeting the priest with much respect, he met him at the top of the mount, and led him into the arbour, graciously praying him to be seated.
“All good saints bless your majesty!” exclaimed the priest, “and guard you from your enemies. I have just come from Moseley Hall, and am the bearer of a message to your majesty from Lord Wilmot. His lordship is in great anxiety on your majesty’s account — very alarming reports having reached him, which I am glad to find are unfounded, and he implores you to come on to Moseley Hall, where he feels sure you will be safe. To his lordship’s entreaties I would add those of my patron, Mr. Whitgreave, who places his house at y
our disposal, and has means, almost better than any other person, of offering you a secure asylum at this dangerous juncture. To these entreaties, my gracious liege,” continued the good priest, earnestly, “I will add my own. Do not remain here too long. Your enemies have been temporarily baffled in their quest, but I fear they will renew it, since their obstinacy is great.”
The king listened attentively to what was said to him.
“I intended to remain here for a few days, holy father, till the danger should be blown over,” he said. “But I perceive there is too much risk in doing so. Loth, therefore, as I am to leave Boscobel, I will come to Moseley Hall to-night.”
“Your majesty has determined well,” said Father Huddlestone. “But I entreat you to take a sufficient guard with you. The forest is full of rebel troopers. No doubt the trusty Penderels will guard you.”
“I can count upon them,” replied Charles.
“I will speak with William Penderel myself, before I depart,” said the priest.
“Do you depart soon, father?”
“Almost immediately, sire. I return by Chillington.”
“Then come in at once and take some refreshment.”
And rising as he spoke, the king led the way to the house.
As the king and Father Huddlestone walked on, they perceived Careless and the page leaning from an open lattice window to the room on the ground floor. Thus seen they formed a very pretty picture. On his majesty’s approach they would have drawn back, but he marched up to the window to speak to them.
“A change has taken place in my plans,” he said. “Father Huddlestone is returning immediately to Moseley Hall. You must both go with him.”
“And leave you here, sire?” cried Careless. “I do not like the arrangement at all. But, of course, I must obey your majesty’s orders.”
“If all goes well, I shall rejoin you to-morrow at Moseley,” said the king. “I shall travel at night, and with a sufficient escort.”
“But why am I not to form one of your majesty’s escort?” asked Careless.
“Because you are wanted elsewhere,” replied Charles, smiling.
“Well, since it must be, it must,” said Careless. “But your majesty may wish me at your side.”
While Charles was thus conversing, the good priest entered the house, and finding Joan and her husband in the hall, paused for a moment at the open door, and bestowed a benediction upon them. They received him with the greatest respect. William placed a chair for him, and Joan quickly brought him some refreshment. While this was going on, the good father briefly explained the purport of his message to the king, and though the faithful pair were grieved to lose their important charge, they raised no objection.
At this juncture Charles came in.
“My good friends,” he said, “I perceive from your countenances that Father Huddlestone has told you I must leave you. Never shall I forget your kindness to me, and I desire to express my gratitude in the good father’s presence.”
“Your feelings do you honour, my liege,” said Father Huddlestone, rising. “Your majesty may rest assured that you have not more devoted subjects than the Penderels. As to Dame Joan — —”
“Her price is above rubies,” interrupted the king. “I know it. Be seated, I pray, your reverence, and heed not my presence. I have more hard work for you, William, and for your trusty brothers. To-night you must all escort me to Moseley Hall.”
“We will all be ready, my liege, and shall account it no hardship,” replied William. “We will take with us our brother-in-law, Francis Yates. We can trust him as we can trust ourselves.”
“The husband of the good woman who visited me in Spring Coppice?” observed Charles.
“The same, sire.”
“Then he is well mated,” said the king.
“You must all go armed, William,” remarked Father Huddlestone, gravely— “armed, and prepared to resist to the death. I warn you there is danger.”
“We will go fully prepared for any event,” rejoined William Penderel, resolutely. “We cannot do better than die for the king.”
“That is a sentiment I have always inculcated,” said the father.
“And I have not forgotten it, your reverence.” Then turning to the king, he added, “I will bid Humphrey bring his horse for your majesty. Moseley Hall is a long way off, and your majesty looks somewhat footsore.”
“Oddsfish! I could not walk half a dozen miles without falling dead lame,” cried Charles. “By all means let me have Humphrey’s nag.”
Soon afterwards, Careless and the page, neither of whom had any preparations to make, came in to bid adieu to Joan and her worthy spouse; and Father Huddlestone, declaring he was sufficiently rested and refreshed, rose to depart.
Before bidding adieu to Careless, the king gave him some instructions in private, saying, as he left him at the garden gate,
“If we do not meet again, you will know what to do.”
Charles did not wait for any reply, but, as if afraid of betraying the emotion he felt, walked quickly towards the arbour. On gaining the summit of the mount, he looked round and saw that Father Huddlestone and his two companions were gazing anxiously at him from the skirts of the wood. Waving his hand to them, he entered the arbour, and was for some time lost in painful reflection.
BOOK THE FOURTH. MOSELEY OLD HALL.
* * *
CHAPTER I.
CHILLINGTON HOUSE.
Father Huddlestone being as well acquainted with the paths through the forest as the Penderels themselves, took his companions through the thickest part of it, where they were not likely to encounter a patrol of the enemy, and brought them safely to Chillington Park.
They were now at the lower end of the long and beautiful avenue leading to the ancient mansion, but before proceeding further, the priest deemed it advisable to consult the old gate-keeper, who dwelt in the lodge adjoining the entrance of the park.
Like all the old retainers of the Giffards, John Eccleshall, the gate-keeper, was a Roman Catholic, and consequently devoted to Father Huddlestone. He informed the priest that there was no danger whatever in his entering the park, since Colonel James, with the whole of his troopers, had evacuated the hall.
“Heaven be thanked the rogues are gone to Brewood!” said the old man. “Not one is left behind. I counted them as they passed through the gate.”
While Father Huddlestone was talking with the gate-keeper, Jasper’s curiosity was excited by an old wooden cross standing in a small green inclosure near the lodge, and in answer to his inquiries as to why it had been placed there, the priest related the following legend:
“That is called Giffard’s Cross,” said Father Huddlestone, “and it was set up in old times by Sir John Giffard. Sir John, who was excessively fond of the chase, kept a collection of wild beasts, and amongst them a very beautiful, but very fierce panther, which he valued more than all the rest. One day, it chanced that this savage animal slipped out of its cage, and escaped into the park. Made aware of what had happened by the cries of his terrified household, Sir John snatched up an arbalist, and rushed out into the park, accompanied by his eldest son. He easily ascertained the direction taken by the panther, for the beast had been seen to skirt the avenue. At that time there were no gates here, and the limits of the park extended far beyond the place where we are now standing. Sir John and his son ran as swiftly as they could, and were still speeding on, when they beheld a young woman and a child coming along the road. At the same moment, they discovered the panther couched amid the fern, evidently waiting for his prey. Sir John and his son had halted, and though the distance was almost too great, the old knight prepared to launch a bolt at the beast. But while he was adjusting his cross-bow, his son remarked that he was out of breath, and fearing he might miss his aim from this cause, called out to him in French, ‘Prenez haleine, tirez fort.’ By this time the poor young woman had perceived her peril, and uttering a loud shriek, clasped her child to her breast, and essayed to fly. I
t may be by the interposition of holy Hubert,” continued the priest, reverently, “whose aid Sir John invoked, that she was saved. Just as the panther was about to spring, the bolt flew, and was lodged in the animal’s brain. On the spot where the mortally-wounded beast rolled on the ground, this memorial was placed. Thenceforward, also, Sir John Giffard adopted as his motto the words of counsel addressed to him by his son.”
Having concluded his legend, with which Jasper was much edified, the good priest bestowed his benediction on the old gate-keeper, and the party entered the park, and proceeded along the avenue.
Viewed at a distance, Chillington House, with its grand façade, its immense oriel windows, its gables, turrets, and noble entrance porch, looked as imposing as ever, but on a nearer approach, the damage done to the mansion could be perfectly distinguished. Built by Sir John Giffard in the early part of the reign of Henry VIII., on the site of a still older edifice, Chillington House had long been kept up in magnificent style by its owners. But the Giffards were gone now, and their ancient residence being in the hands of the Parliamentary commissioners, was allowed to go to ruin. Now and then it afforded quarters to a detachment of soldiers, who took possession of it, without authority, and did an infinitude of mischief.
The old mansion was approached by an extremely picturesque avenue of mingled oaks and hollies, and it was along this beautiful avenue, in 1576, that Queen Elizabeth rode, attended by a splendid cortége, when she visited John Giffard, grandson of the builder of the mansion.
At that time, the park, which was of vast extent, was well stocked with deer, for the old lords of Chillington were great hunters. At the rear of the mansion the park extended to Codsall, and in this part there were several large pools, of which a more particular description will be given hereafter. At a subsequent period these pools were joined together, and now form a large and beautiful lake. Attached to the house were stables that might have befitted a palace, and these were spared by the troopers, who spared nothing else about the place, because they found them convenient.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 664
