In another moment, a wild and joyful shout announced that the Highlanders had discovered their beloved prince. They rushed forward in a body, and the foremost flung themselves at his feet, while those behind gave vent to their delight in another ringing shout.
Colonel Ker did not choose to interrupt this demonstration; but, as soon as it was over, he advanced with the two distinguished officers just mentioned, and all three offered their congratulations to his royal highness on his escape.
After warmly thanking them, Charles called Atherton forward, and told them that he owed his deliverance entirely to the young man’s gallant conduct, explaining what had been done, and concluding emphatically with these words, “But for Captain Legh, I should at this moment be a prisoner.”
Naturally, the young man was much gratified by these observations, as well as by the praises bestowed on him by Colonel Ker and the others, but he received their commendations with great modesty.
The prince then asked Colonel Townley how he had heard of the attack made upon him, and learnt that the alarming news had been brought by Tom Syddall.
“Syddall came to me,” said Colonel Townley, “and I immediately took him to Colonel Ker, as his statement might not have been credited.”
“Where is he?” demanded Charles. “I must thank him for what he has done.”
“After explaining where your highness would be found, Syddall begged to be allowed to go in quest of the villains who had assailed you,” said Colonel Ker, “being fully persuaded that he could accomplish the capture of their daring leader, and as Colonel Townley knew the spot where your royal highness would be found, I did not refuse the request.”
“If the villain should be captured to-night,” said Charles, “which I think scarce likely, let him be brought before me at once. I will interrogate him myself.”
“Your commands shall be obeyed,” rejoined Ker. “Shall we now return to head-quarters?”
“By all means,” replied Charles. “But march slowly.”
Colonel Ker was about to give orders, when another party of soldiers, having a prisoner in their midst, was seen advancing along the unfinished street. The party was guided by Tom Syddall, who carried a torch.
CHAPTER XIX.
CAPTAIN WEIR IS INTERROGATED BY THE PRINCE.
As soon as the prince was descried, the advancing party halted, and Syddall giving the torch to one of the men, pressed forward towards Charles, and making a profound obeisance, said:
“The villain who attacked your royal highness has been captured. He had taken refuge in a stable at the back of the Angel Inn. He is here, if you desire to question him.”
In obedience to the prince’s command the prisoner then stepped forward between two soldiers. He did not appear intimidated by the position in which he was placed, but bore himself very boldly.
Charles looked at him for a few moments, and calling to Atherton, asked him if he recognised the man.
“I recognise him as the leader of the attack,” was the reply.
“Such is my own opinion,” observed the prince. “How say you?” he added to the prisoner. “Do you deny the charge?”
“No,” replied the prisoner. “I am the man.”
“You avow your guilt,” said Charles, surprised by his boldness. “How are you named?”
“I am known as Captain Weir,” replied the other.
“Have you aught to allege why you should not be delivered to the provost-marshal for immediate execution?” observed Charles, sternly.
“My life is justly forfeited,” replied the prisoner, “yet your royal highness will do well to spare me.”
“Wherefore?” demanded the prince, whose curiosity was excited.
“My reasons are only for your private ear,” replied the prisoner.
After a moment’s reflection, during which he kept his eye fixed on Weir, Charles ordered the guard to retire.
“Leave the prisoner with me,” he said. “But if he attempts to fly — shoot him.”
As soon as the command was obeyed, he said:
“You can speak freely now. Why should I spare your life?”
“Firstly, because it will prove to the world that you are a magnanimous prince, and in that respect superior to your enemies, who are notorious for their severity,” replied Weir. “Next, because I can tell much that it behoves your royal highness to know, as will be evident when I declare that I am employed by the Duke of Cumberland as a spy, and am, therefore, necessarily in his royal highness’s confidence. If my life be spared, and I am allowed to go back to Lichfield, where the duke is quartered, I can mislead him by erroneous information, while I shall be able to acquaint you with his plans — exact knowledge of which I need not say will be eminently serviceable.”
“There is much in what you say, I must own,” replied the prince. “But what guarantee have I that you will not prove a double traitor?”
“My gratitude,” replied Weir. “I could never prove faithless to a prince so generous.”
“I can make no promise,” replied Charles; but in a tone that held out some encouragement to the prisoner.
At a sign from the prince the guard then advanced, and again took charge of Weir. Shortly afterwards, the prisoner was removed, it being understood that his execution was deferred — much to the disappointment of the Highland guard, who would willingly have shot him.
Charles then addressed a few kindly observations to Syddall, who had been mainly instrumental in the capture of the spy, telling him that the service should not pass unrequited. Nor did the prince neglect to offer his renewed thanks to Sergeant Dickson and Helen for the zeal and devotion they had both displayed. For Atherton a signal manifestation of favour was reserved.
During the march back to head-quarters, which were not far distant, the prince kept the young man near him, and occasionally took his arm. When the party arrived at the mansion in Market Street Lane they found it completely invested by an anxious crowd, who shouted joyfully on beholding the prince.
But this was nothing to the scene that took place when his royal highness entered the house. Almost all the nobles and Highland chiefs were assembled in the hall, and as Charles entered they pressed around him to offer their warmest congratulations on his escape.
After thanking them in accents that bespoke the deepest emotion, the prince presented Atherton to them, saying, “It is to Captain Legh that I owe my preservation.”
The young man was quite overwhelmed by the plaudits that followed this gracious speech.
Thus ended the most important day that had hitherto occurred in Atherton’s career. It found him an unknown, and undistinguished; but it left him apparently on the road to honour and preferment.
CHAPTER XX.
THE DUEL.
Next morning, at an early hour, Colonel Townley and Colonel Ker issued from the prince’s head-quarters, and, rather to the surprise of the guard drawn up in the court-yard, proceeded at a quick pace along the road leading to Stockport.
In a very few minutes they had left the town behind, for beyond Market Street Lane it was then open country. Not many persons were on the road, and these were chiefly country folk bringing poultry, butter, and milk to market.
Some hundred yards in advance, however, were an officer of rank in the Highland army, and a tall middle-aged gentleman wrapped in a cloak. These persons were evidently bent on the same errand as themselves, and marched on quickly for about a quarter of a mile, when they stopped at the gate of a large meadow. The ground appeared suitable to their purpose, inasmuch as it sank at the further end, and formed a hollow which was screened from view.
Sir Richard Rawcliffe and the Chevalier de Johnstone, for they were the individuals who had thus halted, punctiliously saluted the others when they came up, and Johnstone asked Colonel Ker if he thought the ground would suit.
After consulting his principal, Ker replied in the affirmative, upon which they all passed through the gate, and made their way to the hollow.
Before the preliminaries of the duel were entered upon an ineffectual effort was made by the seconds to adjust the difference. Nothing less than an apology would satisfy Colonel Townley, but this Sir Richard haughtily refused.
Finding their efforts fruitless, the seconds then retired — swords were drawn — hats taken off — and instantly after the salute, the combatants engaged — the attack being made by a thrust in carte delivered by Sir Richard, which was well warded by his adversary.
Several passes were then exchanged, and it was evident to the lookers-on that Colonel Townley meant to disarm his antagonist, and he soon succeeded in the design by skilfully parrying another thrust, seizing the shell of Sir Richard’s sword, and compelling him to surrender the weapon.
The seconds then interfered to prevent a renewal of the conflict, but the baronet, who had received his sword from his adversary, insisted on going on, when the clatter of horses’ hoofs was heard rapidly approaching the spot, and the next moment the prince appeared, mounted on a splendid bay charger, and attended by an orderly.
Without waiting a moment, Charles rode down into the hollow, and pushing between the combatants, ordered them to sheathe their swords. Of course the command was instantly obeyed.
“A word with you, gentlemen,” said the prince, sternly. “You must have been aware that a hostile meeting between persons of your rank would be highly displeasing to me, as well as prejudicial to our cause, and I ought to mark my disapproval of your conduct by something more than a reprimand, but I am willing to overlook it, provided a reconciliation takes place between you.”
Both bowed, and Colonel Townley signified his assent, but the baronet maintained a sullen silence.
“I am aware of the grounds of your quarrel,” pursued the prince, “and I hold that you, Sir Richard Rawcliffe, are in the wrong. I trust you will offer a sufficient apology — not merely to Colonel Townley, but to Captain Legh, whom you have insulted.”
“Your royal highness’s injunctions must needs be obeyed,” rejoined the baronet, haughtily. “To Colonel Townley I am quite willing to apologise; but to Captain Legh — —”
“I will accept no apology from you, Sir Richard, in which my friend is not included,” interrupted Colonel Townley. “I have now a right to demand the cause of the insolent treatment Captain Legh has received, and an explanation of your reason for refusing him the satisfaction to which he was entitled.”
“Come with me for a moment, Sir Richard,” said Charles, taking him aside. Then bending down towards him, and lowering his voice, he added, “Certain circumstances have just come to my knowledge, showing that you must have some knowledge of Atherton Legh’s history, and accounting in some measure for your otherwise incomprehensible conduct towards him.”
Sir Richard endeavoured to hide the confusion into which he was thrown, but could not conceal it from the searching glance fixed upon him by the prince.
“Answer me one question?” pursued Charles. “Answer it explicitly? Are you not Atherton Legh’s mysterious guardian?”
The baronet’s confusion perceptibly increased. Charles seemed to read his thoughts.
“I am wholly at a loss to conceive whence your royal highness has obtained this information respecting me,” he said, at length.
“No matter how it has been obtained,” remarked Charles, sternly. “Is it true?”
“It is correct in the main,” replied the baronet. “Although I would gladly be excused from giving any further explanation, I shall be willing to do so at some more convenient opportunity.”
“The explanation cannot be deferred,” said the prince, authoritatively. “After the levée this morning you shall have a private audience.”
“I will not fail to attend upon your royal highness,” replied Sir Richard, evidently much relieved.
But his brow again clouded, when the prince said:
“You will be pleased to bring your daughter with you.”
“My daughter!” exclaimed the baronet. “She has nothing whatever to do with the explanation I have to offer.”
“You have heard my injunction, Sir Richard. Both Miss Rawcliffe and Captain Legh must be present at the audience.”
“I make no objection,” replied the baronet; “but it pains me to find that I am viewed with suspicion by your royal highness, to whom I have given unquestionable proofs of my zeal and devotion.”
“Justice must be done, Sir Richard,” rejoined the prince, sternly. “If there has been a wrong it must be righted. The mystery attaching to this young man’s birth must be cleared up, and since you are able to give the information required, you are bound to furnish it. I shall expect you and Miss Rawcliffe after the levée.”
Then turning to Colonel Townley, he added: “All obstacles to a perfect reconciliation between you and Sir Richard are now removed. I hope, therefore, to have the pleasure of seeing you shake hands, and trust you will become as good friends as ever.”
The injunction having been complied with, the prince prepared to take his departure, saying:
“After a morning duel in France, all those engaged in it — if the principals are fortunately unhurt, or but slightly wounded — make a point of breakfasting together, and I don’t see why the custom should not be adopted in this country.”
“Nor I,” cried Colonel Townley. “I have gained an excellent appetite.”
“Then I shall expect you all at breakfast an hour hence,” said the prince. “I have much to do to-day. Among other important matters I have to attend the muster of your Manchester Regiment,” he added to Colonel Townley.
“I was afraid your royal highness might be prevented,” said the colonel. “And that would have been a great disappointment to us. I trust you do not feel any ill effects from the rough shake you got last night.”
“A little stiffness — that is all,” replied Charles.
“Have you come to any determination in regard to Weir?” inquired Colonel Ker. “Is he to be shot?”
“No,” replied the prince. “I shall send him to the Duke of Cumberland. Now for a ride round the town. I shall be back in time for breakfast. Au revoir!”
With this he bounded up the side of the hollow and rode off in the direction of the town, followed by the orderly.
CHAPTER XXI.
CASTLE FIELD.
It was a fine November morning, and as the surrounding hills were clearly distinguishable, the prince enjoyed the prospect as he cantered along.
The atmosphere being free from smoke as well as fog, the town had a bright, clean, and cheerful look, which it seldom wears now-a-days. What would Charles have thought if he could have conjured up in imagination the smoky factories and huge warehouses now covering the pleasant orchards and gardens near which he rode?
Manchester in ‘45, as we have already stated, resembled a country town, and on no side was the resemblance more complete than on this, since not more than half a dozen scattered habitations could be descried, the upper end of Market Street being then really a lane.
But though the outskirts of the town were quiet enough, it was evident from the tumultuous sounds that reached the ear, not only that the inhabitants generally were astir, but that the numerous companies billeted upon them were likewise moving about.
The call of the bugle resounded from various quarters, and the beating of the drum was heard in almost every street. Charles listened delightedly to sounds that proclaimed the presence of his army. He thought of the advance he had already made — how another week’s march would bring him to London; his breast beat high with hope and ardour; and he fully believed at that moment that his romantic expedition would be crowned with success.
Just then the bells of all the churches began to ring, and their joyful peals heightened his enthusiasm.
Not wishing to enter the town, he commanded the orderly to guide him to Castle Field; upon which the man rode on in front, and describing a wide circuit then entirely unbuilt upon, but now converted into densely-populated districts and large streets, b
rought him at last to a large open piece of ground, almost encircled by the river Medlock, and partly surrounded by the crumbling walls of an old Roman-British castle, in the centre of which the artillery was parked.
Not far from the field-pieces were the powder carriages; while a large portion of the area was occupied by baggage-waggons; the remainder of the space being filled by artillerymen and their horses.
No better place in the town or neighbourhood could have been found for the purpose. Castle Field would have accommodated double the number of cannon, and thrice the men, it now held.
It was a very pleasant spot, and a favourite resort of the townsfolk. Sports of various kinds took place within the ring, and an annual fair was held there. But it had never looked more picturesque than it did now, filled as it was with cannon, ammunition, baggage-waggons, sumpter-horses, and men.
Early as was the hour, there were numerous spectators on the spot — women as well as men, for the artillery was a great attraction — and some dozens had climbed the old walls, and planted themselves on the top, to obtain a better view of the novel scene.
As soon as the crowd collected on Castle Field became aware of the prince’s arrival, they gathered around him, cheering and expressing heartfelt satisfaction that he had escaped the treacherous attack made upon him overnight.
There could be no doubt from the enthusiasm displayed that the prince’s escape had greatly increased his popularity, all those who got near him declaring they were ready to defend him to the death.
Warmly thanking them for their zeal, Charles extricated himself from the press, and was joined by the Duke of Perth, and some officers of artillery, with whom he rode over the field, examining different matters as he went along.
While making this inspection he encountered many ladies, from all of whom he received congratulations, and to whom he had something agreeable to say.
Amongst others, whose curiosity had induced them to pay an early visit to Castle Field, was Beppy. She had come thither, attended by Helen Carnegie.
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