THE WOUNDED MESSENGER.
There was little fear that no fasts would be kept the month that the
Archbishop was executed. So many were compelled to fast for want of food
throughout England, that all the land might be said to mourn, although
they did not put on the outward semblance of it, as Mistress Mabel did.
Just as the men were thinking of leaving their homes again in the early
spring, came a faint rumour that peace might be established, and many a
heart beat high with hope that the commissioners who were to meet at
Uxbridge, and negotiate a reconciliation between the King and his
people, might be able to conclude terms of adjustment satisfactory to
both parties. Maud felt sure that peace would be established at last
when she heard the news, and Bertram asked her in a whisper if Harry
would come home then; but to this question she could only shake her head
and look up at the clouds racing across the stormy February sky, and
think that Harry had probably gone to the Father's home where ambition
and injustice could never mar the peace of the one great family.
She had come to this conclusion, because she thought if he were living
he would surely have tried to see or communicate with his father before
this, in spite of what had happened.
The meeting at Uxbridge took place just as the first spring blossoms
began to whisper that the earth was not the cold, lifeless thing it
looked; that God had not forgotten the seeds in the time of their
darkness, but that out of this He had made them spring forth, and
through this He had made them strong. Thus thinking as she walked
through the fields, Maud sometimes wondered whether these dark times was
England's winter, out of which righteousness and truth would spring, and
be more strong for the struggle they had endured. Of course to her this
meant that the people would return to the King, and be more firm in
their allegiance than ever, and she hoped that the first promise of such
a result had already taken place.
But alas, for her, and the hopes of thousands like her, who had to
endure silently, and witness misery they could not alleviate! the
commission broke up without anything being done, and men were hurried
from their homes to take up the sword, leaving the plough to be guided
by women's hands. Roger and the rest of his companions again left
Hayslope, and Maud went in and out and tried to comfort the women for
their loss.
Master Drury seemed to feel the failure of the Uxbridge commission most
keenly, although he did not say much about it; yet even Mistress Mabel
could not fail to notice the whitening hair and the failing strength of
her brother, and spoke to Maud about it too. She had noted the change
long since, and now she felt sure that secret grief for Harry was
preying upon her guardian's heart, and bowing him down with premature
old age, and yet she dare not mention the name it would have been a
relief for both to utter and to hear spoken.
So the spring passed into summer without any outward change at Hayslope
Grange, except a short visit from Mistress Mary Stanhope. At the end of
June came tidings of a battle that had been fought a fortnight before at
Naseby, in Northamptonshire, where the King's army had been completely
defeated, leaving on the field five thousand prisoners, an immense
quantity of war material; and what was worse than all for the Royalists,
the King's private cabinet of papers and letters was captured. This news
came from Captain Stanhope, who had himself barely escaped being taken
prisoner by Cromwell's Ironsides, and had got back to Oxford without
even his sword.
This news seemed to affect Master Drury most deeply, and one day he
suddenly announced to Mistress Mabel that he should join the royal
troops and fight for King Charles. The lady looked as if she had not
heard aright, and said something about herb tea and going to bed; but
Master Drury silenced her by taking down his sword from where it hung
against the wall, and ordering one of the servants to fetch his
jack-boots.
[Illustration: MASTER DRURY TAKES DOWN HIS SWORD.]
"Marry, but you are not going to the King now," said Mistress Mabel, in
affright.
"I am going to Oxford," calmly spoke Master Drury; and during the
remainder of the day he was occupied in making preparations for his
departure.
When Mistress Mabel found her brother was bent upon leaving them, and
fully determined to join the army, she suddenly professed to be in great
fear of the Parliament gaining all England, and begged her brother to
remain and protect them--have the moat filled at once, and barricades
placed round the house, for fear of an attack from Cromwell's army; for
Cromwell's name began to be the more prominent now, although Fairfax was
the commander-in-chief.
But Master Drury shook his head. "Cromwell will never come into Essex,"
he said. "You forget King Charles has the Divine right to this land and
its people. He will be the more firmly seated on his throne by-and-by
for these troubles," he added.
Before his departure he spoke to Maud, bidding her come to him at Oxford
if anything happened needing his presence at home. She could ride well
now, he said, and Cavalier could bring her the whole journey.
Maud looked almost as surprised to hear this as Mistress Mabel had done
when her brother first announced his intention of joining the army, for
she had never been to Oxford in her life, and travelling was not very
safe even for a man now Prince Rupert's wild troopers were about. But
she felt thankful for the permission to do this, though at the same time
she hoped that she should not need it.
Harvest-time was drawing near again now, and Mistress Mabel was more
busy than ever among the maids, and Maud spent all her time between the
two children and the village. Sometimes Bessie and Bertram went with her
on her visits of charity, and one or other occasionally read to Dame
Coppins from Harry's old Bible, or listened while the old woman told
them some story of his kindness to her. One day as they were returning
from a visit to the cottage, they were startled to see a crowd of women
gathered round the blacksmith's shed, and Bertram, in his usual
impetuous fashion, ran forward to see what was the matter. Maud was
mounted on Cavalier, and Bessie on her brother's pony, while Bertram,
being on foot, managed to edge himself to the front of the little crowd,
and presently came running back, crying, "Maud, Maud, the man is dying!
somebody has been beating him." Several of the women were coming towards
her by this time, and she sprang from her horse and stepped forward to
meet them.
"Prithee, what is the matter?" she asked, seeing their anxious faces.
"Is the poor man much hurt?"
"By my faith, I think he's dying; but he says he _must_ get to Oxford
first, to deliver up some papers he is bearing to the King," said one of
the women.
"And what saith the blacksmith to his going on his journey?" asked Maud.
"That he will not live an hour with the wound he has received in his
side. Nought but keeping him quite still, as well as careful dressing,
will stanch the bleeding, Martin says, and he knows of such matters."
"Then he must not suffer the poor man to depart," said Maud, in the tone
of one accustomed to be obeyed, as she stepped up to the blacksmith. She
spoke loud enough for the stranger to hear, as she had intended; but he
feebly shook his head, while Martin completed the temporary bandaging of
his wound.
"Marry, stranger, you had better tarry here awhile, for your life will
pay for this journey if you do not," said the blacksmith.
"Nay, nay, I must away to Oxford. I have been sore hindered already, and
lives more valuable than mine depend upon the speedy delivery of these
papers;" and as he spoke he attempted to rise, but fell back into the
blacksmith's arms with a faint groan.
"He must not undertake this journey," said Maud; and she ordered him to
be carried into a cottage near, saying she would come and speak to him
about the papers as soon as he had somewhat revived. Meanwhile she
ordered Martin to look to Cavalier, while the women attended to the
stranger; and then she sent Bertram home with Bessie, and a message to
Mistress Mabel not to be alarmed if she did not come back to the Grange
that night.
By that time the traveller had recovered from the fainting fit, and Maud
went into the cottage. "I am Mistress Maud Harcourt, and Master Drury of
the Grange is my guardian," she said. "He is at Oxford just now, but if
you will entrust your despatches to me, I will take them to him there,
and he will place them in the hands of those to whom they are directed."
The stranger looked at the young lady's glowing resolute face, and laid
his hands upon the papers "I could trust you," he said, "but will you
swear that these shall not pass out of your hands, save to those
directed to receive them?"
"I swear," said Maud, solemnly.
"It seemeth I must perforce stay here," sighed the man. "Prince Rupert's
troops have chased me miles out of my way, or I should have reached
Oxford ere this; and if it were not for the faintness that comes over me
when I move, I would even now continue my journey."
"I will explain all that," said Maud, "but time presses. Now give me the
papers, for my horse is in readiness, and I would fain depart ere
messengers come from Mistress Mabel to hinder me."
It was a large packet, sealed with the seal of the Parliament, that the
stranger delivered into her hands, and which she contrived to conceal
within her dress. Then the stranger gave her directions for her journey,
for he it seemed was well acquainted with the road; and carefully noting
these in her mind, and looking at her purse to see she had money with
her, she took her departure, the villagers scarcely comprehending that
she was going to Oxford until she was out of sight.
Then it was suggested that one of the lads could have gone instead, and
a message came from Mistress Mabel, ordering Maud to return to the
Grange at once; but she was some miles on her way by this time, for
Cavalier was fresh, and inclined for a sharp canter, and Maud kept him
at full speed, for the pressure of those papers was a constant reminder
that life or death hung upon their speedy delivery.
Whether it was the life of friend or foe she did not think. Whoever it
was, he was dear to some heart doubtless--dear as Harry was to her, and
that thought was enough to keep down all fatigue, and make her urge
Cavalier forward whenever he seemed inclined to lag. It never occurred
to her that if Prince Rupert's troops had driven the messenger so far
out of the usual route, it would be impossible for her to escape them,
neither did she think, even if she knew, the distance she had to travel.
Hour after hour she urged her good horse forward, and as it was fine dry
weather, the usual muddy, unkept roads were comparatively easy to
travel, and she had accomplished a good portion of the journey before
the evening closed in.
She halted at a little village where the people were in a terribly
frightened condition on account of the doings of Prince Rupert in the
neighbourhood. Some of his followers had fired a farm-house the night
before, after carrying off all that they wanted; and the numbers of
people--quiet dwellers in lonely houses--or travellers, whom his
troopers had wantonly killed, were very numerous, it seemed, and there
was great surprise that Maud should have undertaken such a journey.
Maud felt surprised herself, now that something of the excitement was
over; she felt stiff and tired, too, with her long ride; and now these
tales about Prince Rupert made her shudder with fear as she knelt down
in the little strange bedroom to thank God for His mercy, and ask it too
for Harry if he was still in this world. She prayed too that she might
be kept through the remainder of her journey--that Prince Rupert might
be kept from her road, and nothing be allowed to hinder her from
reaching Oxford in time to save the lives of these unknown prisoners.
Then she laid down, and in total forgetfulness of Prince Rupert and his
brutal troopers went to sleep, not waking until the morning, when she
recommenced her journey in renewed hope, and with a calm trust in God's
protecting care.