_IN SUSPENSE._
With a lamentable cry I flung myself from Blackbird's back, and knelt
beside my lord's prostrate figure; and almost at once there was a crowd
about us, and presently I heard a voice speaking in tones of authority,
"Make way, men, make way! Here is the surgeon!"
The next moment somebody else was kneeling beside me, and I saw the
grave, clever face of Mr. Oliver, one of the Duke's surgeons.
"Is he dead? is he dead?" I moaned; for I felt all the courage and life
taken out of me at sight of that white still face.
"Killed! not a bit of it, boy. It is but a swoon from loss of blood.
Here, let me get to him to stanch the bleeding, else he may bleed to
death!" and the surgeon's busy hands moved to and fro, whilst the flow
of life-blood was quickly checked. But over and above the deep gash
in the shoulder from which the crimson stream flowed, the bone of the
sword-arm had been shattered by a musket-ball; and Mr. Oliver, as he
drew forth the bullet and proceeded to swathe up the injured limb,
shook his head with the remark,--
"This will be the last of your fighting for some time to come, my good
sir. The cause will be lost or won without your aid before you can
cross saddle or wield weapon again."
The Viscount heard not a word, being still sunk in deep
unconsciousness; but a voice above us said in sorrowful accents,--
"And so I lose another of those very few who know the art of war. Soon
I shall have not a soldier left!"
Raising my eyes, I saw our Duke looking down upon my lord's white face
with eyes full of compassion and regret.
"To lose such a soldier in so small an affray! and he one of the very
few who had the art to command his men!" said the Duke again. And I
loved him the more for his words and his look, seeing that he, too,
loved my lord right well.
"It is greatly to be regretted, sire," answered the surgeon, who was
now adjusting the torn doublet, and looking about as though to know
what next was to be done with the patient. "Lord Vere is a heavy loss
to us; but he must be well tended and have care and nursing, or it may
go hard with him after such a hurt. He has not that iron frame which a
soldier needs. He is an instrument something too finely tempered for
such rough and ready warfare.--Boy," he said, looking straight at me,
"art thou his servant? I have seen thee ofttimes beside him. Where can
we carry him, so that he shall be well tended whilst he lies helpless
and sick?"
"His father's house would surely be his best asylum," said the Duke;
but I shook my head doubtfully.
"I misdoubt me if my lord would go there. His father has cast him off
for joining your Majesty. But if I could get him taken back as far as
Bridgewater, I could there get him all he needs, and he would be well
cared for and tended."
"He will need that," said the surgeon, with his hand upon the wrist of
my lord. "He will probably fall into a fever from his wounds. But, boy,
let not any leech take more blood from him on that account. He has lost
more already than he can spare. See that further loss is spared him, if
thou be with him. A little more, and they would drain the life from him
altogether--as has been done before now!"
"I will see to it," I answered eagerly, vowing in my heart that nobody
should do a thing for my lord that I could do myself. He seemed all
at once to have become my charge. My heart swelled with happiness
in feeling this, and yet sank at the thought of the many perils and
difficulties which lay before me. How was I to get him all those long
miles back to Bridgewater? and if I could not get him there, how could
I tend him and care for him in a strange place, from which all stores
had been taken to feed the army, and amidst strangers who would pay
little heed to my prayers, and to whom my lord's life would be of no
moment?
"I pray you, sir, stay with him but a brief time, and I will see
where I can take him," I petitioned of the doctor; and he nodded,
being in fact still busy over his patient, striving to restore him to
consciousness after his long swoon. We had carried him beneath a group
of fir trees, where the ground was soft and dry; and his cloak had been
rolled up for a pillow beneath his head.
Leaving him there in good hands, I made my way to the rear of the army,
where the baggage-waggons and guns were, and where I was sure I had
seen a familiar face not long since--the face of a farmer from the
neighbourhood of Bridgewater with whom I was acquainted, and who was,
as I well knew, a kindly man, and a person of substance and importance.
I had seen him in Bridgewater, too, and he had told me there that he
was bringing six of his men to join the Duke, as well as two loads
of provisions for the army. He had shown me one of his waggons--and
waggons were not then so common as they are becoming now--and he was
mighty proud of it. It was laden with provender for man and beast, and
was to follow the army till the corn was all gone. It came into my head
that if that waggon were to be returning empty now, I might get my
lord conveyed as far as Bridgewater therein; and once at Bridgewater I
should be amongst his friends and mine, and could get him tendance and
comfort without fear of rebuff.
And not to make too long a story of it, I found the farmer, and the
empty waggon too; and not only did he enter into my plans for my lord,
but he said he would come back himself with us, which was a mighty
comfort to me. He had seen enough of fighting--for there had been
skirmishes all along the road these past days--to see that he was not
made for a soldier. He had been somewhat scurvily treated by some of
the officers, and though still loyal to the cause, he was weary of the
long wet marches. He wanted to be at home again, to see how matters
were going there. His ardour for a personal share in the campaign had
considerably dwindled, and the whisper which was going round that it
would not be long before the King's army was upon them four thousand
strong, in which case a real engagement would become inevitable,
added very much to his desire to find himself amongst more peaceable
surroundings.
So he threw himself with great zeal into my plans for the Viscount.
Together we collected moss in great quantities, and made a deep bed of
it on the floor of the waggon; nor were we content till we had piled
it up two feet high, so that it made the softest of beds for a wounded
man. It was rather damp, to be sure; but the farmer's sacks were spread
in great numbers upon the top, and we were both proud of our handiwork
before it was done. There was some trouble in getting the two strong
horses which had drawn the waggon; for horses were greatly needed by
the army, and it was easier to bring them in than to take them away
again. But by using the Duke's name, and by my making over my lord's
charger, which I knew he would not want for many a week to come, and
which was of real use in battle, we succeeded at last in getting our
horses and yoking them to the waggon. The farmer had kept victuals
enough for the journey, and we were resolved to start at once, and take
a little-trodden route, so as to avoid the bands of soldiers hanging
about the rear of the Duke's army, and perhaps by the morning to be
clear of them.
Whilst thus bustling about in the camp, I heard news that I thought
augured ill for the success of the Duke's arms. Since the capture of a
few troopers of the enemy, with whom we had engaged not long since, in
the engagement which had cost the Viscount so dear, it had been decided
not to march on Bristol to-night. The Duke had heard that there was
an army of four thousand men close at hand, and he was afraid that he
should be attacked before and behind if he pursued his intention, and
be discomfited altogether. He spoke now of turning aside to Bath, and
trying to obtain possession of that place. For my part, I grieved to
think that he should not seize upon the more important city, and one
which was so well disposed towards him and so full of stores and all
things that he needed. But I was no soldier, and moreover I had other
matters to think of; and by the time we had reached the Viscount once
more with our waggon, I had almost ceased to think of the Duke or the
army, or indeed of anything in the world except my lord.
His eyes were half open now, and he gave me a feeble smile as I
approached; but his voice was so weak that I was frightened, and had
much ado to keep back my tears. I began to wonder whether we should
ever get him to Bridgewater alive; but both the surgeon and the farmer
were inclined to laugh at my fears, and to tell me I should make but a
sorry soldier if I were so disconcerted at the sight of a little blood.
They both approved the plan of carrying him to Bridgewater, out of the
immediate tide of battle. As for himself, he was so spent with pain and
loss of blood that he could scarce take note of our words, and let us
do with him what we would. He had lost much blood in the morning before
this second wound laid him low; and I never saw living man look more
like death than he did when at last he lay upon the couch we had made
for him, wrapped up in his cloak and mine against the sharpness of the
night air.
The surgeon looked at him thoughtfully.
"Take him gently, take him gently, and give him frequently to drink of
this cordial. Get him away out of this harassed country, where nothing
can be had save the bare necessaries of life. Get him to some quiet
place where he can be tended and watched. He should do well then; but
he lacks the toughness of fibre which a soldier needs. He is all fire
and force, but the body is not seasoned. He has the soul of a soldier,
but the frame of a girl."
I was rather indignant at the last words, albeit there was some truth
in them; for my lord looked almost like some fair young maiden with his
white face and golden hair, as he lay with closed eyes upon his couch.
It was too much like the marble face of some sculptured monument not to
awaken a sense of pain within me; but I fiercely held back my fears,
and declared that I would save him yet--for Mistress Mary.
As we journeyed slowly through the summer night--and the night was fair
and starlight, though the ground was heavy with the recent rain--I
mused much of Mistress Mary, wondering how matters were going with her,
and whether I should be able to see and speak with her when I was as
near as Bridgewater, and whether perchance I might so contrive that she
should have sight and speech of my lord.
I rode Blackbird close behind the waggon for the most part, and when we
halted I strove to give the cordial to my lord, and to get him to take
food; but this he could not be persuaded to do, and sometimes seemed so
sunk in mists of weakness as to know neither me nor what was happening
to him.
That long journey, which we accomplished safely in two days and three
nights, seems always like a dream to me. We met with no mishap. We saw
no soldiers or foes. The country people were kind, and brought us milk
for my lord whenever we passed a village or farmstead, and listened
with wondering eyes to our tale. I was just absorbed in striving to
keep my lord alive till we could get him proper help and tendance. He
lay almost like one dead, save when the pain of his wound would rouse
him, if the road were more rough and bad than usual. Then he would
strive to raise himself and ease his pain, and would sometimes speak
my name in a tone of gentle fondness when I sought to do aught for his
comfort. But the fever was ofttimes upon him too, and he would lie
back with his lips moving and his eyes seeing things invisible to us;
and at such times he would seem to be in converse with Mistress Mary
or with the Duke, or commanding his men in some sudden attack of the
enemy. It was often hard to keep him from rising and hurting himself;
and night and day I had to watch him, afraid to close my eyes lest he
should be wanting something or doing himself a mischief.
Right glad was I when at last, upon the evening of the second day, the
sight of the familiar walls and chimneys of Bridgewater rose up before
my weary eyes. My lord was lying like one dead in the cart, sunk in a
deep unconsciousness, and I verily began to fear that he would die ere
ever we could reach the town.
I took him straight to my uncle Robert's house--the Cross Keys Inn, as
it was called--and there we met such a welcome as cheered my heart and
took a load of anxiety from my mind.
All Bridgewater was agog for news of the army, and any follower of the
Duke's was welcomed with the greatest love and kindliness. There was
something in the beauty of my lord that appealed to all hearts at first
sight of him; moreover, in Bridgewater he was well known and well loved
for his own sake, and the people were ready to make an idol of him
forthwith when they understood that he had given up everything to join
the Duke, and that he had met his grievous wound in the good cause.
He was carried forthwith to the best bed-chamber in my uncle's house,
and before long all the leeches in the town had gathered round him, and
I was in the greatest fear lest they should want to use their lancets
upon him--for such was the custom for almost every malady--and I had to
repeat the words of Mr. Oliver many times over; but having done so, I
saw that they would prevail.
The doctors looked at each other and nodded and shook their heads: one
said that there might be something in the argument, whilst another said
that an army surgeon ought to know what he was talking of. A third,
the eldest, remarked that perhaps a sound sleep would be the best
thing for the patient, and that he had a potion which would probably
induce a long and sweet sleep, and he said he would at least try that
before resorting to any other methods. All having agreed to this, the
potion was given, and soon the furrows of pain smoothed themselves
from my lord's brow, and he sank into a sleep very different from
the trance-like condition in which he had lain often for half a day
together in the waggon, and which seemed to me like a harbinger of
coming life.
As soon as this was so I stretched myself on a couch at the foot of the
bed and slept also; and I think never was sleep so sound or sweet as
mine that Saturday night.
During the week which I spent in Bridgewater many things happened, and
I scarce know in what order to tell them, nor which will seem of most
moment to the reader. Perhaps that which at that time seemed of most
moment to me--namely, that I succeeded in getting Mistress Mary Mead
to ride out with me one day from Taunton, and spend a few hours beside
my lord. Such a thing might not have been so easy to compass but for
the excitement and stir prevailing at this time in both towns. It was a
period of intense suspense. We knew not from day to day what news would
be brought in. We heard all manner of rumours of which no man knew
the origin. Sometimes we heard that the Duke's army had been cut to
pieces and was in full flight; at others, that he had obtained a mighty
victory over the King's forces, and was in full march for London, which
was ready to receive him with open arms. One flying scout declared that
there had been a fight at Philip's Norton, that at the first experience
of real warfare the Duke's army had begun to melt, and that thousands
had departed to their own homes. Another report said that Mr. Adlam
from Wiltshire, with a great body of horse, was on his way to effect a
junction with the Duke; whilst the club-men, ten thousand strong, had
gathered somewhere upon Pedwell Plain, and had sent a message to the
Duke promising to join him.
Perhaps some may not know what manner of men these club-men were; and
indeed their proffer of assistance came to almost nothing in the end.
I have heard that the club-men had their origin in the days of the
civil war, when the people, finding themselves robbed and plundered by
two rival armies without hope of redress or compensation, resolved to
defend themselves from such attacks, and refuse to allow their property
to be taken from them by either party. The men thus banded together
were armed with clubs, and went by the name of club-men. Whether they
were ever much of a power I know not, but from my boyhood I had heard
them spoken of in the country; and now it was said that they were up
and in arms, and ready to join the Duke in considerable numbers.
Another and a very disquieting rumour also reached us during this week,
which was that the King had issued a manifesto to those engaged in the
service of the Duke, to say that if within certain dates they should
quit the Duke's army and join that of the King, they should be pardoned
their rebellion, and be safe from all punishment. This promise, it was
said, had had the effect of inducing many to quit the Duke's army;
and so disheartened had our young uncrowned monarch become (so the
voice of rumour said) with these desertions, and the failure of the
Bristol project, and the slackness of the gentry to join him, that he
had seriously spoken of flying with his officers to some neighbouring
seaport and taking ship for Holland, leaving his army to avail
themselves of the King's promise of clemency, and be safe from further
harm.
You may guess what a ferment was stirred up in men's minds by all these
contrary and disquieting rumours. Bridgewater and Taunton were all in
a tumult from morning till night, waiting for fresh news, discussing
what had last been brought, and sending messengers to and fro to seek
tidings and ask their neighbours what they had heard. It was thus
easier than it would have been at any other time to ride unnoticed
from place to place. By the time Thursday came my lord began to show
real traces of amendment. He was as weak as a sick child, and could
scarce lift his head from the pillow, and at present he asked nothing
of the news of the day, seeming too weak to wish to be disturbed. But
the fever had left him, and the good soup and possets which my aunt
made for him were bringing back his strength little by little; and so
I felt that I might safely leave him for a day, and go to Taunton to
seek tidings of my relations there, and, if possible, to gain speech of
Mistress Mary and tell her of her lover.
All Taunton was in a fever of excitement when I arrived; and I heard
that news had been brought thither that the Duke's army was actually
in retreat, that no help had come from Wiltshire, that Argyll had been
defeated in Scotland, that the army was deserting fast on all sides,
and that the Duke, in great depression of spirits, was falling back
upon those cities which had welcomed him at first. Also a messenger had
come in with the notice of the King's promise to deserters from the
cause, and a great tumult had been thereby stirred up, none knowing
what effect such a manifesto might have upon the soldiers.
But what I chiefly noted was the change in the feelings of the Taunton
citizens. They who had been so forward to welcome him at first were now
talking together at street corners, and the words that I heard were
such as these:--
"Let him not come back hither! Let him not return to Taunton! We gave
him all we had last time. We plundered ourselves to furnish him. We
have no more to offer. We shall be undone by a second visitation! Let
him not come hither again. Let us send word whilst there is yet time
that we want no second visit!"
What a change from the Taunton of a fortnight ago! I could scarce
believe my ears. Well indeed has it been written that there is no
confidence to be placed in any child of man! When I reached my uncle's
house, I found the tone of his talk quite altered. Without openly
asserting enmity to the Duke, he spoke in a way which made me certain
that his heart had turned against him in the hour of adversity. Since
no capture of Bristol had been made, and no rising amongst the gentry
had followed the proclamation of the Duke's title to the throne, doubt
and despondency had fallen upon Taunton; and my uncle, ever prone to
sail with the wind, was amongst the first to listen with respect to Mr.
Axe's persuasions and the arguments of the Mayor and magistrates, and
avow himself on the side of law and order. He was sincerely relieved
to find that I had been so little with the army, and that I was now
at Bridgewater in quite a humble capacity as body servant to my lord.
He advised me to dissuade my lord from mixing himself up any more in
what he now termed a rebellion; and I was able to answer that I thought
this would be an impossibility in the future, for my lord was like to
be a long while healing of his wounds; whilst, if things did not take
a turn, the Duke would scarce be here in arms more than a short time
longer.
But I was very sad to find Taunton so changed: for I loved the Duke,
and still cherished bright dreams of what England would be like living
under the righteous sway of such a King. I thought I would go to Miss
Blake's without delay, and give my account of my lord to her and
Mistress Mary. I had scarce put into form my hope that she would come
back with me and see him, and yet such was the case; for scarce had she
fully comprehended that he lay in Bridgewater sick and wounded--wounded
in the righteous cause--than she went up to Miss Blake, who was
listening with tears of sympathy in her eyes, and said,--
"Prithee, dear madam, take me to him! I must see him, my gallant love,
who has gotten this hurt in the good cause which, for love of me, he
embraced. Ah! dear lady, the days be long and the way is short! Dicon
will find us horses to take us. Prithee, take me there, dear madam, and
I will bless thee to the last hour of my life!"
I know not what heart could have resisted Mistress Mary's sweet
pleading; certainly not that of Miss Blake, who was as full of romance
and enthusiasm as any girl, and whose loyalty towards the Duke had
never failed nor faltered through good report or evil report. That is
the way, I think, with women. Love is with them an instinct, and it is
far more faithful and lasting than with men, who reason and think and
weigh matters again and again in the balance. It mattered not to them
that the cause was beginning to look gloomy, that some even went so
far as to say it was lost. They loved and trusted just the same, and
believed that right would be done at last; and since the Viscount had
got his grievous wound in the righteous cause, and Mistress Mary must
needs see him, her good friend rode forth willingly with her that day,
and we reached Bridgewater before the sun had begun to get low in the
sky.
As I have said, there was too much astir just then, too much coming
and going, and talking and discussing, for the doings of quiet people
to excite much comment. We rode forth without meeting any questions,
and at Bridgewater, where the ladies were not known, no one paid any
heed to us. The town was full of excitement because it was said that
both the army of the Duke and the army of the King were drawing near,
and some thought there would be a battle nigh against the town; whilst
others averred that only the Duke was coming, and that he had already
routed his foes. Any way, there was so much stir in the streets that
none paused to look at us; and soon we alighted at my uncle's inn,
whilst my aunt came forth to welcome the strangers, and listened in
smiling amaze as I whispered my story in her ear.
"Nay, but thou hast brought him the best medicine of all, Dicon!" she
exclaimed at the close; and when she had taken the visitors to the
parlour, and had seen Mistress Mary without her riding-hood, her heart
was more than won, and nothing was good enough for her. She bustled
about to get the table set, whilst I went to my lord's room, and found
him lately wakened from a sweet sleep, and looking more like himself
than he had done since he was first laid low.
I did not tell him that Mistress Mary had come; I only told him that
I had been to Taunton, and that I had seen and spoken with her. Even
that word brought a flush of colour to the wan cheek--the first I had
seen; and as he lay looking at me whilst I told of her, and tried to
remember some of her words, the door behind us opened softly, and a
light footstep crossed the floor.
The next moment I saw such a light leap into my lord's face that I knew
in a moment who had come in.
"Mary--my Mary!" he cried, and would have lifted himself but that she
came swiftly forward and laid her hand upon him to restrain him.
"Reginald," she said softly, "you have gotten your wound for my sake. I
must needs come to help to heal it."
"It is healed already at sight of thee, sweetheart!" he said; and then
I rose and stole forth from the chamber, for I felt that it was no
longer any place for me.