That same night, an officer was sent with a flag of truce to the Hall,
and bearing a summons to surrender.
To his intense delight at first, and intense sorrow afterwards, Fred
found that it was to be his duty to bear the flag and the message to the
officer in command of the little garrison.
He received his instructions and a despatch to Sir Godfrey Markham, and
carrying a small white flag, and preceded by a trumpeter, he rode slowly
through the evening mist, which was rising from the lake and the low
meadows down by the stream, till he reached the path leading up to the
Hall garden, where he stopped short, gave the order, and the man blew a
cheery call, which echoed and re-echoed from the red stone walls.
Then, riding forward with his white flag well displayed, he advanced
boldly to the front of the barricaded porch.
For a few minutes he sat there gazing up at the front, and wondering
that no heed was paid to his coming. So still was everything, that it
seemed as if the Hall had been deserted, till, happening to glance to
his left, he caught sight of a dark eye at one of the windows, and
directly after he realised that this eye was glancing along a heavy
piece, the owner taking careful aim at him as if about to fire.
It was impossible under the circumstances to avoid a feeling of
trepidation; but second thoughts came to whisper to him as it were--
"You are under a flag of truce--an ambassador, and sacred."
"But he might be ignorant, and fire," thought Fred, as he glanced to his
right, where, to his horror, he saw a second man taking aim at him, and
apparently only waiting the word.
Fred's first thought was that he ought to clap spurs to his horse, wheel
round suddenly so as to disorder the men's aim, and gallop back for his
life.
"And then," he said to himself, "how should I dare face the general and
my father?"
Drawing a long breath, he sat firm, and then fighting hard to keep down
his trepidation, he turned his head, and called to his follower, bidding
him summon the garrison once more.
The man raised his trumpet to his lips, and blew another call, falling
back again at a sign from the flag-bearer, and though he would not show
that he knew of their presence, a glance to right and left told Fred
that the two men were taking aim at him still.
"They dare not fire. They dare not!" he said to himself, as he sat
fast; and directly after a group of showily dressed Cavaliers appeared
at the large open window above the broad porch.
He could see that Sir Godfrey Markham was in the centre, with a tall
fair man with a pointed beard on one side, a grey dark man on the other,
and half behind him stood Scarlett, with some dozen more.
"Well, sir," said Sir Godfrey, sternly, and speaking as if he had never
seen the messenger before, "what is your business?"
"I am the bearer of a despatch, sir," replied Fred, "for the chief
officer here."
"That will be you, sir," said Sir Godfrey to the gentleman on his right.
"Well, boy, pass the letter here."
"How, sir?"
"Put it on the point of your pike, and pass it up."
Fred did as he was bidden, and sticking the folded missive on the point
of the pike which carried the white flag, he held it up, and it was
taken.
"You had better retire while it is read," said Sir Godfrey,
contemptuously. "I see there are two of our men paying attention to
you. Rein back, if you are afraid."
It was a hard struggle, for with those two fierce-looking troopers
watching him along the barrels of their pieces, Fred's inclination was
still to turn and gallop away as fast as his horse would go.
But at that moment he raised his eyes, and could see that Scarlett was
looking down at him, as if to watch the effect of Sir Godfrey's words.
This look seemed to stiffen him, and he sat perfectly erect upon his
horse, with the pike-shaft resting upon his toe, as he told himself that
he hoped if the men fired they would miss; that before he would run
away, with Scar Markham to laugh at his flight, they might riddle him
with bullets through and through.
"Well, sir," said Sir Godfrey, half mockingly, "are you going to
retire?"
"I am under a flag of truce, Sir Godfrey," said Fred, quietly. "I
thought the Royalist party were gentlemen, and knew the meaning of such
a sign."
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the tall Cavalier by the general's side. "That's
a good sharp retort for you, Markham. Well done, youngster! Don't be
afraid."
"I am not," said Fred, stoutly; but at the same time he said to himself,
"Oh, what a horrible lie, when I'm all of a cold shiver."
"I didn't quite mean afraid," said the tall officer, laughing, "I meant
to say that no one here shall harm you, my young ambassador. But look
here, how comes it that you, who are evidently a gentleman, are taking
sides with that beggarly scum of tatterdemalions who have taken up arms
against their sovereign?"
"Look here, sir," said Fred, "is this meant for flattery or insult?"
"Neither one nor the other, young ferocity," said the Cavalier,
laughing. "But don't look like that; you alarm me. Here, young
Markham, you had better come and deal with this pernicious enemy; he is
too much for me."
But Scarlett did not move, and Fred drew a deep breath, as he prepared
for the next verbal encounter, for the fair Cavalier was leaning
carelessly out of the window, and looking down at him till, as if
fascinated by his look, and after a long struggle to keep his gaze fixed
on the stonework upon a level with his nose, Fred raised his eyes, and
found that the Cavalier was regarding him with a pleasant, friendly
smile.
"I did not mean to affront you," he said; "I only thought it a pity that
such a stout lad as you should be on the opposite side."
"Thank you," said Fred, haughtily.
"I suppose we are enemies, are we not!"
Fred nodded.
"And next time we meet you will be trying to send the point of your
sword through me, or to ride me down, eh?"
"I suppose I shall try," said Fred, smiling in spite of himself, and
showing his white teeth.
"Ah, it's a pity. You're going wrong way, young man. Better come in
here, and fight for the king."
"Better stand up manfully for my own side, and not be a traitor,"
retorted Fred, hotly. "How dare you, standing there in safety, keep on
this wretched temptation?"
"Wounds and wonder!" cried the Cavalier, "what a fire-eater it is.
Here, I don't wonder that we are shut up helplessly here. I say,
Roundhead, will you have a glass of wine?"
"Keep your wine," said Fred. "I've come on business, not to talk and
drink."
At that moment, Sir Godfrey spoke to those about him, drawing back from
the window, and the conversational Cavalier followed, leaving Fred
sitting stiff and fretful, with all his moral quills set up, the more
full of offence that he believed Scarlett was still watching him.
As he sat there, assuming the most utter indifference, and gazing with a
solidity that was statuesque straight before him, he could hear a loud
buzzing of voices, following the firm deep tones of Sir Godfrey Markham,
who had evidently been laying the contents of the message before his
companion.
"Will they surrender?" thought Fred. "I hope they will. They are
debating the question. It would be a relief; and Scarlett Markham and
I--no, Scar and I," he said, mentally correcting himself--"might perhaps
be together again. If he would promise not to take up arms, I dare say
my father and General Hedley would let him off from being a prisoner if
I asked, and he could go with me to where poor Nat lies out in the wood,
and look after him."
"Huzza! God save the king!"
The shout and words came so suddenly that the little horse Fred rode
started and reared, and he was in the act of quieting it down, feeling
the while that his ambassage had been in vain, when the party defending
the Hall reappeared at the window.
"Youngster!" began Sir Godfrey, in a stern deep voice which annoyed
Fred.
"When he knows me as well as he does his own son!"
"Ride back, and tell your leaders that I have laid the contents of their
letter before the gallant gentlemen who are my companions here."
There was a buzz, and an attempt at cheering, which ceased as Sir
Godfrey went on.
"They all join heart and soul with me in the determination to hold my
home here in the name of his majesty the king, so long as there is a
roof above us and a piece of wall to act as shelter, to help us keep
your rascally rebellious cut-throats out of the place."
Fred felt all of a tingle, and his eyes flamed as he gazed up defiantly
at the speaker.
"Tell your leaders that if they will at once lay down their arms and
return to their homes, they shall be allowed to do so in peace."
"Huzza!" came from within.
"But if they still keep in arms against his majesty, they must expect no
mercy. Once more. Tell your leaders that we treat their proposal with
the contempt it deserves."
"As we shall treat your silly proposition, sir," said Fred, quite losing
his temper at being made the bearer of such an absurd defiance from a
little knot of men, completely surrounded as they were. "Am I to fully
understand that you are obstinate enough to say you will hold out?"
"Look here, insolent boy," said Sir Godfrey, sternly, "you are safe--
your character of messenger makes you so--but if you stay where you are
in front of this my doorstep another five minutes, one of the men shall
beat you away with a staff. Go!"
Fred turned white, then red, and he felt the bitterness of the general's
words the more keenly from having forgotten himself and departed from
his neutral position of messenger to speak as he had. He wanted to say
something angry that should show Sir Godfrey and his companions, and
above all, Scarlett, that he was obliged to go, but that it was on
account of his duty, and not that he feared the man with the staff. But
suitable words would not come, and, bubbling over with impotent wrath
and annoyance, he touched his horse's flanks with the spurs, turned as
slowly and deliberately as he could, and began to move away, but only to
face round fiercely as the tall Cavalier at the window said
banteringly--
"Good-bye, young game-cock."
There was a roar of laughter from the careless party looking on.
"You coward!"
"Not I, my lad," came back in cheery tones. "I was only joking.
Good-bye, and good luck go with you, though you are a Roundhead. Think
better of it; let your hair grow, and then come and ask for Harry Grey.
I shall have a regiment again some day, and I shall be proud to have you
at my side."
The words were so frankly and honestly said that Fred's eyes brightened,
and passing the pike-shaft into his bridle hand, he raised his steel cap
to the Cavalier, replaced it, and rode off, while the Royalist officer
turned to Scarlett.
"As frank and sturdy a boy as I have ever met, excepting you, Scarlett
Markham, of course," he added, as merrily as if there were no danger
near.
"Yes, he's as true as steel," said Scarlett, flushing. "He always was."
"You know him?"
"It's Fred Forrester, Colonel Forrester's son, from the Manor. We were
companions till the war broke out."
"Three cheers for bonnie Coombeland and its boys," said the Cavalier.
"Why, Scarlett, my lad, we shall have to get him away from these
wretched rebels. Can't it be done?"
"No," said Scarlett, gravely. "Fred is too staunch and true."
And staunchly enough, Fred, with his trumpeter behind, was riding back
to camp with his message, which he delivered to General Hedley and his
father.
There was a pause after he had done, and the general sat gazing straight
before him.
"Well, Forrester," he said at last, "I have done my duty so far, and I
must go on. We cannot leave this little nest of hornets in our rear to
act as a point to which other insects will gather for the destruction of
those who are fighting for their homes. It is of no use to give them
time."
"No," said Colonel Forrester, sternly. "I agree with you. They must
fall, or be taken to a man."
"And their blood be upon their own heads."
"Amen," said Colonel Forrester, in a deep voice; and as Fred glanced at
him he saw that he was very pale, while a cold chill of dread ran
through the lad's veins as, in imagination, he seemed to see stout,
handsome Sir Godfrey Markham borne down by numbers, with Scarlett making
frantic efforts to save him; and then all seemed to be dark--a darkness
which hung over his spirit, so that he led his horse mechanically to the
improvised stabling beneath the trees, seeing nothing, hearing nothing,
till a voice said--
"No, no, Master Fred, I'll see to your horse;" and he turned and found
Samson there, and this set him thinking about poor Nat lying helpless in
the wood.