WHEN THE CAPTAIN CALLED
It was broad daylight, and once more the fire of muskets was sputtering
along the walls of Monksfield, when at last Dick Fowell opened his
eyes. He looked at Merrylips, and smiled, and when he smiled, his face
grew boyish and winning.
"So!" said he. "Thou, at least, wert real, and not a phantom in those
black dreams where I was laboring. Thou hast been at my side the
livelong night?"
Merrylips nodded. She gave him the flasket, which still held a little
of the wine and water, and the bread which was in her pocket, and she
sat by him, while he propped himself on his elbow and ate and drank.
"I saw thee yesterday," said Fowell, presently.
"In the courtyard," answered Merrylips, in a low voice. "When Miles
Digby--he tried to make me, but I didn't! I didn't!"
"I remember," said Fowell, and his eyes narrowed at the memory. "Child,
what brought thee, bred among such as Digby, to succor me last night?"
Merrylips swallowed a lump in her throat before she could answer. Now
that she heard Fowell speak in that firm voice, she no longer felt that
she was protecting him. Instead she felt little and weary, and herself
in sore need of his protection.
"It was--because of my brother," she whispered at last. "They made him
prisoner, there at Loxford. I hope--perchance--some one had pity on
him."
She was angry that it should be so, but as she thought of Munn,
helpless and ill-treated, perhaps, as Fowell had been, she felt the
tears gather upon her lashes.
At that Fowell sat up quickly, though he made a wry face at the effort
that it cost him. He put his arm about her, and spoke as gently as one
of her own Cavalier friends could have spoken.
"Cheerly, my lad! Tell me the name of this brother of thine, and when
I come clear of Monksfield, I promise thee I'll do my best endeavor to
seek him out and requite him for thy tenderness."
She whispered the name, "Munn Venner," and she felt the start of
surprise that Fowell gave.
"Venner?" said he. "Sure, thou art never one of the Venners of
Walsover? Then by all that's marvellous I knew thine eldest brother,
Tom Venner, two years agone at New College. A proper merry lad he was!
And thou art a brother of Tom's! Thou must be the little one he called
Flip, though I had judged him to be older."
Merrylips answered neither yes nor no. She hoped it was no fib to let
Dick Fowell think that she was her brother Flip, and not a little girl.
Whatever happened, she must keep the secret that Munn had bidden her to
keep. But she thought it no harm, in answer to Fowell's questions, to
tell him how she had dwelt in Will Lowry's household at Larkland and
had come to Monksfield by Munn's aid. Indeed she was glad to talk with
Fowell. He seemed like an old friend, since he had known her brother
Longkin at Oxford.
But soon Dick Fowell said: "I'm loath to part with thee, little
truepenny, but haply thy gentle friends in garrison will not be
over-pleased at the company thou art keeping here. Were it not best
thou shouldst slip hence and leave me?"
Merrylips hesitated, and then he added, smiling:--
"Have no fear, child! Lieutenant Digby and I will do each other no
mortal damage."
Merrylips feared that her next question was uncivil, but she had to put
it. Point-blank she asked:--
"Why doth Lieutenant Digby hate you so?"
"A long tale," said Fowell, and frowned, though perhaps it was only
with the pain of his hurt head.
"We Fowells," he went on, "dwell neighbors to the Digbys yonder in
Berkshire, and since my grandfather's time, faith, there hath been
little love lost between us. There was at first a dispute over some
lands, and then a plenty of wrongs and insults,--on both sides, no
doubt. As little lads, Miles Digby and I came more than once to
fisticuffs. And then, two years agone, he shot my dog that ran at my
heels, vowing that I did trespass on his father's lands. For that I
gave him such a trouncing as it seemeth he hath not forgot."
The arm that Fowell had laid about Merrylips tightened in a grip that
almost hurt her.
"I do forgive him what happened yesterday," Fowell said, as if he found
it hard to say. "But I hope the Lord in His goodness may let me meet
him once again when I wear a sword!"
Scarcely had Fowell uttered this pious wish, when there came a
clattering of the bolt in the door of the wash-house.
"'Tis Digby!" cried Merrylips, and felt herself half choked with the
beating of her heart.
But it was not the lieutenant, whom she feared for Dick Fowell's sake.
It was a corporal and a couple of troopers who had come to fetch the
prisoner to Captain Norris. They were in great haste. They seemed
scarcely to notice or to care that she was in the wash-house. But
for all their haste, she saw that they were sullenly civil toward
Lieutenant Fowell, and they even helped him to walk away. He needed
help, for in spite of all that he could do, he staggered as soon as he
stood upon his feet.
When Dick Fowell had been led away, Merrylips went slowly out into the
courtyard. She felt faint and cold, and she was almost trembling at the
thought that her old friends all would scorn and hate her, because she
had helped a Roundhead. But she found the garrison too tired with the
hours of fighting that were past, and too busy with making ready for
the fight that was to come, to pay much attention to one small lad or
wonder where he had spent the hours of the night.
Ever since daybreak, she learned, there had been hard fighting, and
many men had been killed and wounded. Cornet Slanning had been shot
through the leg, and Lieutenant Crashaw, who had led out a sallying
party, had been cut off from the garrison and made prisoner.
It was because of this that Captain Norris had sent for Dick Fowell,
and the guards were treating him civilly. Colonel Hatcher was offering
to exchange Lieutenant Crashaw for his brother-in-law, Dick Fowell, and
so sorely did the Monksfield garrison need officers that Captain Norris
had agreed to the exchange.
So white flags had been hung out on either side, and the firing
stopped. Presently, about noontime, Dick Fowell was put on a horse and
taken outside the gates of Monksfield, where he should be handed over
to his own men. Merrylips' eyes met his, as he was riding forth. He did
not speak, or even smile upon her, but she guessed that he did this out
of caution, lest any show of friendliness from him, a Roundhead, should
do her harm among the Cavaliers.
Half an hour later Eustace Crashaw was once more within the walls of
Monksfield. He was very grave of face, and he stammered more than ever
as he told Captain Norris the number of men and the store of ammunition
that the rebels had with them. Colonel Hatcher had shown all to him,
in bravado, and bidden him tell his captain that, thus furnished, they
meant to sit there till they had reduced the garrison.
When Captain Norris heard this, he bit his mustaches. He looked so
stern that Merrylips, who had stolen near, hoped with all her heart
that he would never learn how she had helped the brother-in-law of this
boastful Colonel Hatcher.
Soon the guns were cracking again, all along the walls, but to-day
Merrylips had no wish to go upon the ramparts and see men hurt and
slain. She was turning away to the great house, when whom should
she meet but Rupert. She was glad to see him, for she remembered how
friendly they had been, only the day before. She halted, and would have
spoken, but she saw that he was scowling upon her in his old way.
"How is it with thee, little sister?" he jeered.
Merrylips thought that now surely he had hit upon her secret. She was
so frightened that she could only stare at him without speaking.
"I thought thou hadst mettle in thee, for a young one," Rupert went on.
"But to go sneaking away and coddle a vile rebel, only for that he had
come by a bump in the head, as he well had merited! Tibbott Venner,
thou art no better than a girl!"
In her relief that she was not yet found out, Merrylips did not care
what she said.
"Then is a girl a better gentleman than thou, thou horseboy!" she
answered back. "And I be glad that I am like a girl!"
So saying, she trudged away to her own chamber. There she put on a
fresh shirt, and then she fumbled in the hole in her mattress and drew
out the silver ring that had been Lady Sybil's. She hung it about her
neck on a cord, within her shirt, just as she had used to wear it. It
was like a girl to wear it so, and she wanted to remember always that
she was indeed a girl.
While she sat fingering the ring, she felt that she did not care what
Rupert or the Monksfield garrison thought of her. She knew that she had
done what Lady Sybil would have wished a tender-hearted little maid to
do. But as the afternoon passed, and the room grew dark, and the rebel
watchfires kindled on the hills, she began to think how far away was
Lady Sybil, and how near were the Monksfield garrison. And since Rupert
knew that she had helped their captive enemy, all the garrison must
know, and surely all would cease to be her friends.
As she was thinking thus, and remembering the stern face that Captain
Norris had worn, she heard a knock upon her door. When she called,
"Come!" there appeared on the threshold a slender figure that she knew
could be only Rupert's.
He spoke in a formal, dry voice.
"I am sent to find you, Master Venner. Captain Norris hath a word to
say unto you."
Within her shirt Merrylips clutched at the silver ring and tried to
take courage.
"The captain--is fain to speak with me?" she faltered.
"Ay," said Rupert. "Now--this moment. Come! He waiteth for you."