"Your guards? You were being escorted?"
"Yes; I've given them the slip."
"Where are they now?"
"Coming up the hill--you hear them?"
"Hush!" enjoined the knight, speaking to those around him; and all
became silent, listening.
Voices, with a quick trample of hoofs, and at short intervals a call as
of command, from far below and but faintly heard. The road was almost
subterranean, and wound up through a dense wood.
"What's their number?" again questioned the knight.
"Nigh two hundred--nearly all Lingen's force--and about twenty
prisoners."
"Is Lingen with them?" eagerly asked an officer by Sir Richard's side,
who seemed to share the command with him.
"Colonel Kyrle--Captain Trevor," said the knight, introducing them. "I
suppose you're aware we've taken Monmouth?"
"I was not; but am happy to hear it. Yes, Colonel," replying to Kyrle,
"Lingen is with them; coming on in the pursuit."
Over the features of the ex-Royalist came an expression of almost savage
joy, as one who had been longing to confront an old and hated foe, and
knew the opportunity near.
"I'm glad?" he exclaimed, as in soliloquy; then seemed to busy himself
about his arms.
"His presence was near being a sorry thing for me--the inhuman
scoundrel!" rejoined the escaped prisoner.
"How so?"
"I heard him give the order to fire on me, as I was making off."
"And they did?"
"Yes. Every one who could get piece, or pistol, ready in time."
"That explains the shots we heard, Walwyn. Well, young sir," to Trevor,
"you seem to bear a charmed life. But we must back into ambush. You
take the right, Dick; let me look to the left and give the cue to fall
on. I ask that from my better knowing the ground."
"So be it!" assented Sir Richard, and the two commanders, parting right
and left, rode back a little way within the wood, where each had a body
of horse drawn up, and ready for the charge.
The conversation, hurriedly carried on, had consumed but a few seconds'
time; and in an instant after the causeway was clear again, only a
vidette left under cover to signal the approach of the pursuers.
Captain Trevor, of course, went with his colonel, but now carrying a
sword and pistols; supernumerary weapons which had been found for him by
Sergeant Wilde.
A profound silence succeeded; for the horses of the Parliamentarians,
after two years' campaigning, had become veterans as the men themselves,
and trained to keeping still. Not a neigh uttered; no noise save the
slight tinkle of curb or bit, and an occasional angry stamp at bite of
the _bree_ fly. But the one could not be distinguished, even at short
distance, amid the continuous screeching of jays, and oft-repeated
_glu-glu-gluck_ of the green woodpecker, whose domain was being intruded
on; while the other might be mistaken for colts at pasture.
To the surprise of all in ambuscade, the pursuing party appeared to be
coming on very slowly; and in truth was it so. Two reasons retarded
them. Their horses were not Saladins, and the best of them had become
blown in their gallop against the steep acclivity more than a mile in
length. But the riders themselves had grown discouraged. In their last
glimpse got of the fugitive he was so far ahead, and his mount showing
such matchless speed, it seemed idle to continue the chase. They but
hoped that some chance party of Scudamore's men from Hereford might be
patrolling the road farther on, and intercept him. So, instead of
pressing the pursuit with ardour, they lagged on it; toiling up the
steep in straggled line, and at a crawl.
Some twenty of the best horsed, however, had forged a long distance
ahead of the others, who were following in twos and threes, with wide
intervals between. And among the laggards was Lingen, instead of in the
lead, as might be expected in the commander of a partisan troop. Fond
of display, and that day designing exhibition of it, he rode a charger
of superb appearance; one of the sort for show, not work. As a
consequence, after the first spurt of the pursuit, he had fallen
hundreds of yards behind, and was half-inclined to turn round and ride
back to the inn, under pretence of looking after his other prisoners.
But there was no going back for those who had pushed on, nor much
farther forward. Having surmounted the summit of the pitch, they heard
a heavy trampling of hoofs, with the dreaded slogan, "God and the
Parliament!" and saw two large bodies of horse, one on each flank,
simultaneously closing upon them. At a charging gallop these came on,
so quick the surprised party had no time either to turn back or make a
dash onward, ere seeing the road blocked before and behind.
A surround complete as sudden, accompanied by the demand "Surrender!"
made in tone of determination that would not brook refusal.
Of the score of Cavaliers so challenged, not one had the heart to say
nay. They had left their courage below with their spilled wine cups,
and now cried "Quarter!" in very chorus, delivering up their arms
without striking blow, or firing shot.
"Where's Harry Lingen?" cried Kyrle, spurring into their midst with
drawn sword. "I don't see his face among you." Adding, with a sneer,
"Such a valiant leader should be at the head of his men!"
Then fixing on one he knew to be a cornet of Lingen's Light Horse, he
vociferated,--
"Say where your colonel is, sirrah! or I'll run you through the ribs."
"Down the hill--behind somewhere," stammered out the threatened
subaltern. "He was with us when we commenced the pursuit."
Riding clear of the crowd Kyrle glanced interrogatively down the road.
To see the tails of horses disappearing round a corner; some of the
pursuers, who, catching sight of what was above, had made about face,
and were galloping back.
"Let us after them, Walwyn! What say you?" hurriedly proposed Kyrle.
"Just what I was thinking of. Trevor tells me most of their prisoners
are my own men, those taken at Hollymead. They shall be rescued,
whatever the risk."
"Not much risk now, I fancy. Lingen's lot are so demoralised they won't
stand a charge. We needn't fear following them up to the gates of
Goodrich Castle. And we can get back to Monmouth that way, well as the
other."
"That way we go," then said the knight determinedly; and down the pitch
started the two colonels with their respective followers, a detail
having been hastily told off to guard the prisoners just taken.
Meanwhile the Sheriff had been balancing between advance and return.
Vexed with the cause which retarded him, he was vowing he would never
again bestride the showy brute, when he saw several of his men coming
back down the pitch at breakneck speed, as they approached calling out,
"Treason! A surprise!"
"Treason! What mean you?" he demanded, drawing his sword, and stopping
them in their headlong flight. "Are you mad, fellows?"
"No, Colonel; not mad. Some one has betrayed us into an ambuscade. The
Roundheads are up the hill; hundreds--thousands of them?"
"Who says so?"
"We saw them, Sir Henry."
"You couldn't have seen Roundheads. There are none on these roads. It
must be some of Scudamore's men from Hereford. Fools! you've been
frightened at your own shadows."
"But, Colonel, they've taken a party of ours prisoners; all that were
ahead of us. We heard the `Surrender!' and saw them surrounded."
"I shall see it myself before I believe it. About, and on with me!"
The men thus commanded, however reluctant to return towards the summit,
knew better than to disobey. But their obedience was not insisted upon.
In the narrow way, ere he could pass to place himself at their head, a
horseman came galloping from below, and pulled up by his side. A
courier with horse in a lather of sweat, showing he must have ridden far
and fast. But the slip of paper, hurriedly drawn from his doublet and
handed to the Sheriff, told all.