"We shall know now, your Excellency, what Kyrle means doing. This is
from him--I recognise the script."
The superscription on the letter was only the initials "R.W.," Sir
Richard's own, who otherwise knew it was for himself, and while speaking
had broken open the seal.
Unfolding the sheet, he saw what surprised and at first fretted him--
that device borne on his hat and the standard of his troop--the
sword-pierced crown. It appeared at the head of the page, in rough
pen-and-ink sketch, and might be meant ironically. But no; the writing
underneath gave the explanation:--
"By the symbol above R.W. will understand that K. abjures the hatred
thing called `Kingship' henceforth and for ever. After this night he
will never draw sword in such a cause, and this night only to give it
a back-handed blow. R.W.'s proposal accepted. Plan of action thus:--
M. at once to retire troops from High Meadow, news of which a
messenger already warned will bring hither post haste. But good
reason must be given for retiring, else K. might have difficulty
getting leave to go in pursuit. Withdrawal appearing compulsory,
there will be none. H., who commands here, is a conceited ass,
ambitious to cut a figure, and will rush into the trap as a rat after
cheese. R.W. may show this to M., and himself feel assured that if
the sword of his old comrade-in-arms be again employed in the service
of the P., it will cut keen enough to make up for past deficiencies,
which K. hopes and trusts will be forgiven and forgotten."
No name was appended to the singular epistle nor signature of any kind.
It needed none. Sir Richard Walwyn knew the writer to be Robert Kyrle,
a lieutenant-colonel in the Royalist army, who at the beginning of the
war had drawn sword for the Parliament. In days gone by they had fought
side by side in a foreign land,--more recently in their own,--and Kyrle
could well call Sir Richard an "old comrade-in-arms." Now they were in
opposite camps; but if that letter could be relied upon as a truthful
exponent of the writer's sentiments, they were likely soon to be in the
same again. Already there had been a passage of notes between them, and
the knight had now a full comprehension of what his anonymous
correspondent meant, knew to whom the various initials referred--in
short, understood everything purposed and proposed.
"What's your opinion of it, Colonel Walwyn?" asked the Governor, after
hearing the letter read, and receiving some necessary explanations. "Do
you think we can trust him?"
"I do, your Excellency; feel sure of it now. I know Kyrle better than
most men, and something of his motives for going over to the other side.
Nothing base or cowardly in them; instead, rather honourable thin
otherwise. For, in truth, it was out of affection for his old father,
whose property was threatened with wholesale confiscation. Walford, up
the river, this side Ross, is their home. It is within cannon range of
Goodrich Castle, right under, and Lingen would have been sure to make a
ruin of it had Kyrle not gone over to the King. Now that the chances of
war are with us again, and he thinks that danger past, his heart bounds
back to what it once warmly beat for. I know it did, as he has oft told
me, in tent and by camp fire."
"To what?" asked Massey, himself a veteran of the Low Country campaigns,
and feeling interest in souvenirs of sentiment.
"This?" answered the knight, pointing to the device inside the letter,
still in his hand. "I believe he will be true to it now, as he
promises; and if we get nothing more by it than his sword, it's one
worth gaining, your Excellency. Than Kyrle I don't know braver or
better soldier."
"Well, Colonel, since you seem so disposed to this thing, and confident
of success, I'm willing we should make the attempt. At the worst we can
but fail, though, indeed, failure may cost us a good many of our best
men. Best they must be to form the forlorn hope."
"If your Excellency permit, I and my Foresters will form that. With my
confidence in them, and faith in Kyrle, I have no fear of failure--if
the details of our scheme be carried out as designed."
"They shall be, Sir Richard, so far as I can effect it. You may rely
upon me for that. Nay, I leave the ordering and arrangement of
everything to yourself."
"Thanks, your Excellency. But the sooner we set about it the better.
Kyrle, as you see, counsels the withdrawal at once."
"But what about the reasons for doing so? Without that, he tells us--"
"I've thought of that, too," interrupted Sir Richard, now all haste.
"It's part of my plan already arranged. But it will take a little time
to procure this reason, so that it may appear plausible--the time it
will take a man, mounted on a good horse, to gallop to Coleford and
back."
"I don't quite comprehend you, Colonel. For what purpose this galloping
to Coleford?"
"To get news from Gloucester--telling us it is threatened by Rupert."
The Governor gave a start, as if actually being told it was so. Then,
recovering himself, as he saw the smile on Sir Richard's face, at the
same time catching the purport of his dubious words, he smiled, too,
admiringly upon the soldier knight, as he rejoined,--
"An admirable idea! It will do! But, as you say, Colonel, there must
be no time lost. The messenger must be despatched at once. So let us
back to High Meadow House."
Saying which, he started off down the hill.
Sir Richard was about to follow when his big sergeant, who had been all
the while standing near, stepped up to him, and saluting, said,--
"There be a woman as wants a word wi' ye, Colonel."
"A woman! Who, Rob?"
"Cadger Jack's sister."
"Where is she?"
"A little ways down the lane. I didn't like bringin' she up, fears you
or the Governor mightn't wish bein' intruded on. Besides, her business
be more wi' yerself, Colonel."
"Well, Wilde," half jocularly returned the knight, "your discretion
seems on a par with your valour. But let us down, and hear what the
cadgeress has to say. If it be a question of squaring the market
account, you can take that upon yourself. I give you _carte blanche_ to
settle scores; and if they've brought back groceries, you may distribute
them among the men."
"It bean't nothin' o' that Win want to speak ye about?"
"What is it, then? You seem, to know."
"There be herself, Colonel. Her can tell you better'n me."
He pointed to the Forest Amazon, who but a short distance below stood by
the trunk of a tree, from behind which she had just stepped, Massey
having passed without seeing her.
"Well, Mistress Winifred," said the knight, when near enough to commence
conversation, "my sergeant tells me you've something to say."
"Only a word, your honour; an' I be's most feered to speak it, since it
ant a pleasant one."
"Out with it, anyhow."
"Him be wounded."
"Who?"
"The young officer as wor took at Hollymead--Captain Trevor."
"Ha! Wounded, too! Who told you that?"
"'Twor all about Monnerth the day, wheres him be in prison. I tried get
a chance to speak wi' he, but couldn't, bein' watched by the sodgers
roun' the Castle."
"Did you hear whether his wound be serious?"
"No, Sir Richard; nothin' more than that it wor from a gunshot, an' had
laid he up. Hope it won't signify no great deal; but I thought it
better you be told o't fores it reach the young lady at Gloster--so's
yer honour might break it to her a bit easier."
"Very thoughtful of you, Mistress Winifred, and thanks! I'll endeavour
to do that."
He passed on with quickened step and shadowed countenance. Eustace
Trevor, whom he had grown to regard as a brother, wounded! This was
news to him. And a gunshot wound which had laid him up--that looked
grave.
All the more reason for taking Monmouth, and soon. But however soon, he
had a presentiment, and something more, it would be too late--so far as
finding Eustace Trevor there. He felt almost sure that, whether
slightly or severely wounded, his troop captain had been taken on to
Goodrich.