"You're quite turning everything into military style, Ben," said Roy, as
they left the armoury.
"Yes, sir; nothing like it. Keep the men up to the mark."
"But isn't it comic to speak of the people as the troops?"
"No, sir; not a bit. Troops are troops whether there's many or few.
It's serious work is fighting, and, with due respect to you, sir,
there's nothing comic in treating our new levies as if they were
seasoned men."
All the same, though, Roy felt that he could not agree with his
companion, when they reached the great gate-way, now, for the time
being, made the parade ground. To his eyes the aspect of the place was
decidedly comic, and his first impulse upon seeing the familiar figures
of butler, footman, grooms, and gardeners, looking stiff and awkward in
their heavy buff coats, creased and angular for want of use, was to
burst out laughing.
But he did not even smile, for he could see that the men were glancing
at him consciously, and he knew that any such display of mirth at their
personal appearance would have had a most disastrous effect. As it was,
he behaved very wisely, for when Ben shouted out an order for them to
fall into line, Roy advanced to the men at once with a few encouraging
remarks.
"The accoutrements and things have been lying by so long," he said,
"that they must be very uncomfortable and stiff."
"Yes, sir, they really are," said the butler, shaking his head. "You
feel as if you can't move in them; and my steel cap is terribly heavy."
"You'll find them grow more easy to wear after a bit," said Roy, at a
venture. "I see you are pretty well fitted, and--What's that, Ben?"
For voices came from the gate-way beyond the drawbridge, a hundred yards
from where they were standing.
"I'll see, sir," said Ben, importantly, as he drew himself to the
salute. "Beg pardon, sir," he added in a low tone; "be better now if
you'd make everything soldierly and speak to me as sergeant. Don't see
why my old rank shouldn't tell now, and it will help me with the three
troopers, for one of 'em's a corporal."
Roy nodded, and directly after followed his sergeant, for he began to
have an inkling of what was going on.
As he crossed the drawbridge, it was in time to hear Master Pawson say,
in his high-pitched voice and in a tone of anger that was quite new--
"Oh, there you are, Martlet! What is the meaning of all this folly?
Rogers dressed up, and telling me I can't come in without an order from
her ladyship."
"Quite right, sir," said Ben, steadily; "only he didn't know he was to
let in any one belonging to the place."
"But what does it mean? I've been out since morning, and I return to
find the gate locked, and a man playing at being a sentry. Why, Roy, my
dear boy, surely this is not some bad joke of yours?"
"Unfasten the gate, Rogers, and let Master Pawson in," said Roy, with
his face turning scarlet; and, seeing his look of confusion, the
secretary continued--
"Oh, I see; it is playing at soldiers. And gracious me! who are those
under the gate-way? Surely troops have not arrived in my absence. My
dear Roy, surely her ladyship does not countenance this? It is too
absurd."
Annoyance made the boy feel indignant, and he knew that those near him
expected him to speak on their behalf.
"It is not absurd, Master Pawson," he replied, sharply. "The castle is
being placed under military rule now, and will be put in a state of
defence as soon as possible."
"That's so!" growled Ben, whose face was black as a thunder-cloud.
Master Pawson gave him a quick look, but he did not speak to him, but to
Roy.
"A state of defence!" he said, in a tone of raillery; "what nonsense!
and pray, why?"
"On account of the troubled times, sir."
"Troubled times! What troubled times?"
"Surely you know, sir, who have been bringing my mother news of the
revolution."
Master Pawson's eyes opened a little more widely, for he was astonished.
The boy addressing him seemed no longer the quiet, sport-loving pupil
who came up into the tower to read with him and listen patiently while
he played on his violoncello, but one who had suddenly been transformed.
"Ah, you mean the tidings of those people who object to some of the
king's orders? But really that has nothing to do with us out here in
this quiet, retired place. And you are making it an excuse for all this
folly? For shame, Roy! Dressing up the servants, and putting on a
sword! Go and take it off, boy, and do not make yourself ridiculous."
Ben glanced at his young master, whose face was redder than ever, and
waited impatiently for him to speak, while Master Pawson turned towards
his pupil smilingly, extending one hand to lay upon his shoulder, the
other to lay hold of his sword.
"There is nothing absurd or nonsensical about it, Master Pawson," he
said, firmly. "As I have told you, the castle will be put in a state of
defence."
"You mean repair, my dear boy," said the secretary, mockingly.
"Yes, repair if you will, as to the weak parts, sir. And as to playing
at soldiers, we may look a little awkward at first, as we are not used
to our weapons and arms; but that will soon pass off, and you will have
to join us, and do your best."
"That's so!" growled Ben, whose face began to lighten up a little as Roy
spoke out so firmly.
Master Pawson turned upon the old soldier with his eyebrows raised in a
look of surprise.
"My good man," he said, "will you please to recollect your position
here."
Ben saluted, and drew himself up as stiff as a pike.
"Nonsense, my dear boy!" continued Master Pawson; "this is all foolish
vanity, and I am sure that, when you have thought it over coolly, you
will see that it is childish for you, a boy, to imagine that you can do
any good by making this silly display. Why, you must have been reading
some old book of chivalry and warlike adventure. If you only knew how
ridiculous you look with that long sword buckled on, you would soon take
it off. You look almost as absurd as Rogers here; I thought some
scarecrow had been stuck up by the gate."
"Yes, sir; that's right," growled Ben. "Scarecrows who were going to
scare off all the crows as try to peck at his majesty the king."
"Silence, Martlet!" cried Roy, sharply. "It is not your place to speak
to Master Pawson like that."
"I should think not," said the secretary, with his face flushing
slightly.
"Beg pardon, sir, a slip: not mutiny," said Ben.
"No, but insolence on the part of a menial," cried Master Pawson; "and
if it is repeated, I shall ask Lady Royland to dismiss you, sir, at
once."
"And my mother would refuse to dismiss so old and faithful a servant,"
said Roy, warmly.
The secretary looked at the boy wonderingly again, and his eyes
darkened; but he smiled the next moment.
"Come, come, Roy!" he said. "Pray leave off this nonsense, and have the
gate left open. Send the men back to their work. You will thank me for
giving you this advice to-morrow."
"No, Master Pawson, I shall not," said Roy, firmly. "The gate will be
kept locked; no one will be allowed to pass without the word, and
to-night the drawbridge will be raised; by to-morrow, I dare say, we
shall be able to lower the portcullis."
"Are you mad, my boy?"
"I hope not, sir."
"Do you mean to tell me that you will not listen to my advice?"
"Yes, sir; I cannot."
"Then, my good lad, I must be severe. I have tried gentle means. As
your tutor, in whose charge you have been left by your father, I command
you to give up all this silly mummery. You have something better to do
than to waste time over such childish tricks. Go to your room, and stay
there for a while before you come to mine with an apology. Quick! At
once!"
He stood, looking very important, as he gave a quick stamp and pointed
towards the castle.
"You, Jenkin, go and put that sword away! Rogers and Martlet, go back
to your work at once!"
"Stop!" said Roy, firmly, as the men looked at him for help. "Keep as
you are. Master Pawson is my tutor, but he has no right to give you any
orders.--I must ask you, sir, to go to your room, and not to interfere
with what is going on around."
"Hah!" ejaculated Ben, expelling a tremendous pent-up breath, and he
turned and winked at Rogers and Jenk, though the poor old gate-keeper
could not see.
"The boy is mad," cried Master Pawson, flushing angrily now. "This is
beyond bearing. An act of rebellion. Once more, sir, will you obey
me?"
"Obey you, Master Pawson? In my studies, yes. Over the business of the
castle, no!"
"I am striving to save you from being ridiculed by the whole district,
sir, and I appeal to you not to force me to have you humbled by going in
to complain to Lady Royland."
"You will not humble me, sir, by going in to complain to my mother, for
she endorses everything I have done."
"Her ladyship does!" cried Master Pawson, looking quite aghast.
"Of course. All this is by my father's orders."
"Absurd, boy! Your father has given no such orders."
"Indeed!" said Roy, flushing angrily at the contradiction. "You have
not been at home, sir, or you would have seen his messengers, three
troopers, ride up this morning, from his regiment, who will stay to help
us strengthen the place. There they are! I hope you don't think they
look ridiculous in their uniforms."
For, as he was speaking, the three men, rested now and refreshed, had
marched from the servants' hall to where the new recruits were drawn up,
and stood there waiting for their captain to return.
For a few moments Master Pawson's face dropped, and he stared in his
utter astonishment.