A year rapidly passed away, during which, young and slight as they were,
Scarlett Markham and Fred Forrester seemed to have changed into boyish
young men. The excitement of a soldier's life had forced them on, and
with great rapidity they had mastered the various matters of discipline
then known to the army. Sir Godfrey and Colonel Forrester were received
by the opposing factions with delight, their old military knowledge
making them invaluable, and they were at once placed in command of
regiments of horse, newly raised, and whose training caused them immense
effort.
But the men were of splendid material, and before long Forrester's and
Markham's Horse were looked upon with respect; soon after with envy.
In these two regiments the boys from Coombeland served six months as
ordinary soldiers, till, partly for their ability, partly from the dash
they had shown, they were nominally raised to the rank of officers, the
men of their troops willingly following the lead of the brave boys who
rode with them into dangers many enough.
For, in those stern times, no father could spare his son. Those who
elected to serve had to run all risks, and the consequence was that on
either side the making of a good fighting army took but little time.
"It do me good to see you, Master Scar," Nat used to say, as he rode
always at his young master's heels. "Think of a boy like you being an
orficer!"
"A very poor one, Nat."
"Nay, Master Scar, I don't know another in the regiment the men would
sooner follow."
Equality of situation brings similarity of remark, and it was in like
words that Samson, after a tirade about his unnatural brother for
fighting against him, would address his young master from the Manor.
And so another six months passed away, with the war-tide setting here
and there on the borders of Coombeland, but never spreading its
devastating influence there. The two lads grew more and more imbued
with the war-faith of their parties, and as they became sturdier and
more manly, hardened as they were by the rough, open air life they led,
a feeling of bitterness foreign to their natures rapidly increased, till
they were ready to speak with hate and contempt of the enemy they blamed
for destroying the peace of the land.
And all this time, to Fred and Scar, home was becoming rapidly a memory.
By the merest chances, they heard that all was well, and, compelled to
be content with this scanty news, they plunged into their work again,
till the roar of cannon and clash of steel became familiar as were the
terrors of the scene of some desperate fight, such as modern soldiers
would speak of as a desultory skirmish.
Eighteen months with the army, and, in spite of exposure, neither of the
Coombeland lads had met, or, as far as they knew, been near each other,
and neither of the two little parties from Hall and Manor had met with a
wound.
But sterner times were near at hand. After much desultory fighting, the
Parliamentary forces were mustering strongly in the far west, and those
of the king had made Bristol a stronghold, and were moving on.
There were two leaders of opposing ideas, who prayed that the war might
not sweep their way, but, as they prayed, they felt that the prayer was
vain, and their brows grew rugged as they read how surely what they
dreaded must follow, and felt how likely a battle-ground the moor would
prove in the neighbourhood of their peaceful homes.
The little petty encounters kept on day after day, week after week, as
if each side was practising its men and trying their strength for some
great fight to come, and all the while, round and about Barnstaple and
away toward Exeter, the forces were gathering, till all at once, when
least expected, scouts came in from east and west with news that told of
a probable encounter, perhaps before another sun had set.
Those who knew best, however, were not so sanguine till after that sun
had set, and among those was General Hedley, who gradually and
cautiously advanced, feeling his way step by step, each step being a
natural stronghold, which would help him against the dashing onslaughts
of Charles's cavaliers.
But forty-eight hours had not elapsed before the rival forces were face
to face, when a little skirmishing took place, and then darkness put an
end to the varied encounters, the combatants waiting for daylight, when
a battle was bound to ensue. This fight must inevitably prove serious
to one or the other side, and either the Parliamentarian forces would be
driven back into the far west, where their scattered strength could be
quenched as the remains of a fire are beaten out, or else the king's men
would be driven towards Exeter, after what must prove a deadly blow.
That night the occupants of Hall and Manor lay down to sleep within
hearing of the sentinels of each army, and the two lads, worn out with
fatigue, slept heavily, to dream of the homes they were so near--dreams
full of trouble and anxiety, as they seemed to see the sweet faces of
those they loved anxiously listening to the roar of gun and clash of
sword, and wondering what was to be their fate and where they could flee
if matters came to the worst.
A trumpet roused Scarlett Markham from his dream of home. The deep roll
of drums awakened Fred, and as daylight came, and the larks sprang from
the dewy moor to carol high in the soft, grey, gold flecked sky, there
was the trampling of men and the snorting of horses, and then the first
gun belched forth its destroying message against the advancing forces of
the king.
Needless to tell of that fight of brother against brother with the
horrors of the field. Hour after hour went by, hours of manoeuvring and
change of front, and always with the king's men gaining ground, and
driving back the Parliamentarians, whose position seemed to be growing
desperate. And as the Royalist leaders saw their advantage, they grew
more reckless, and urged their men on, till it seemed as if a dozen
lesser fights were in progress, the grim men of the Commonwealth
fighting hard to hold their own.
This went on till the afternoon, when, in their exhaustion, the king's
men paused almost with wonder at the stubborn front still presented to
their steel.
"It is their last despairing stand," said the Royalist general to
himself, and he gathered his men for a final advance upon the low hill
crowned by the enemy.
The advance was made by men wearied out, against those who had not done
half the marching and counter-marching, and as they swept on, they saw
the change in the front for which they had looked so long--at first with
triumph, then with despair. For now General Hedley sent forward his
grim squadrons, held so long in reserve, and, raging with their long
inaction, they dashed down the slope like a thunderbolt which met the
Cavaliers half-way, broke through them, rode them down, and before the
two parts into which they were divided could recover in the slightest
degree, from the right and left flanks fresh squadrons broke down upon
them, and in five minutes the imaginary triumph had become a rout.
The king's banner that day lay low, the royal standard trailing in the
dust, as a wild shout of victory was raised by the soldiers of the
Parliament, and the gaily caparisoned Cavaliers in bitter despair fled
broken and in disorder for their lives.
"Oh, evil fortune!" groaned Sir Godfrey, as he reluctantly galloped away
beside his son, their jaded horses going heavily, with heaving flanks.
"Quick, my boy, quick!"
"Oh, father," cried Scarlett, "and we are galloping away from home."