IN THE ENEMY'S CAMP
While the wain jolted through the stiffening mire, Rupert and Merrylips
whispered together. They agreed that at the first chance they would
scramble down noiselessly from the wain and run away, before Kit
Woolgar could stop them. But they would not make this brave dash just
yet, for a great white moon was staring in the sky, and the road was
running through open fields, where they might easily be seen and hunted
down.
"We will wait," said Rupert, "till the night weareth late and is dark,
and the carters are sleepy and forget to watch us. No doubt, too, the
road will lead presently among trees, where we may hide ourselves. Ay,
we shall do wisely to wait."
That would have been a very prudent course, but for one thing, on which
Master Rupert had not counted. Late in the evening, when the moon was
setting, and the time for escape seemed near at hand, they came to a
crossway. There they were joined by three more wains, and guarding
these wains, and ready to guard them, too, was a little squad of
Roundhead troopers.
While those big, grim men rode alongside the wains, Rupert and
Merrylips knew that it was useless to think of escape. So they gave up
hope, and cuddled down amongst the straw, beneath the horse-blanket.
[Illustration: RUPERT AND MERRYLIPS KNEW IT WAS USELESS TO THINK OF
ESCAPE.]
They wondered, in whispers, what they should do next day when they were
handed over to the thick-set Smith, who served at Ryeborough. Surely,
they should be known at once as no kinsmen of his! Then perhaps they
should be judged to be spies, because they had told false stories. And
spies--were not spies always hanged?
In their fright they thought that they should lie awake till daybreak.
But they were so tired that they were lulled by the padding of the
horse-hoofs and the creaking of the wheels. And before they knew it,
they both fell fast asleep.
When they woke, a cold, wintry light was gleaming all about them. The
wain in which they sat was just rumbling over a bridge. Beneath the
bridge ran black water, which all along its banks was fringed with
crispy ice. At the farther end of the bridge the stone walls of a
castle stood up grimly against the sky.
"'Tis Ryeborough!" whispered Rupert. "And 'tis neck or nothing now! So
soon as we are set upon the ground, we must run for't!"
They passed through a narrow, arched gateway in the massive wall,
where sentinels kept watch. They came into a steep street, which ran
between high houses that shut out the sun. Up one street and down
another they rumbled.
Everywhere, it seemed to them, they saw soldiers, on foot and on
horseback, officers and men. They heard, now near, now far, the blare
of trumpets and the roll of drums. On the footway girls went laughing
by, and at their breasts they wore knots of orange ribbon, the color of
the Parliament. Always the great bulk of the castle loomed against the
sky, and from its highest tower drooped a banner that in the sunlight
gleamed the hue of orange.
In the very heart of the rebel town, after so many twistings and
turnings that it was hard to say how they had come there, the wains
halted in a dirty courtyard, near some gaunt stables. The soldiers of
the escort swung heavily from their saddles. The carters clambered down
and began to unhitch the steaming horses.
"Down wi' ye, lads!" sang out Kit Woolgar, cheerily. "Else ye'll be
cast into the stalls forthwith!"
All a-tremble, Merrylips clambered over the trusses of straw and let
herself down into Woolgar's arms.
"Nigh frozen, art thou?" the young man said. "Do 'ee but wait, and
speedily I'll get thee a swig of something hot, my youngster."
As he spoke, Woolgar took his hand from Merrylips and turned to look to
his horses. In that moment Rupert caught her arm.
"Run!" he whispered. "Quick! 'Tis our one chance."
Like frightened hares they darted toward the entrance of the courtyard.
They slipped on the frosty cobbles. They stumbled, for they were
cramped and stiff with lying still so long. Behind them they heard men
shout, and at that sound they ran the faster.
Outside the gate they dived into a narrow alley. At the farther end was
a wall, over which they flung themselves. Beyond the wall were squalid
courts, and frost-nipped gardens, and walls, and more walls.
At last they halted in a damp courtyard. They were too spent to run
a step farther. They crept into a great empty cask, which lay on its
side among some rubbish against a blank wall. There they crouched and
waited, while they listened for the coming of pursuers.
They heard no sound, but long after they had got breath again they
stayed in their hiding-place. They ate Polly Woolgar's gingerbread,
and still they were very hungry. They found it cold, too, in that damp
court. And because they were hungry and cold they could not stay there
forever. About the middle of the afternoon they crawled out of the
cask, and with hearts in their mouths stole into the streets of the
rebel town.
"If we ask questions," said Rupert, "they'll know us for strangers. So
we'll make as if we knew the way, and stroll about like idle boys, and
in time we'll hit upon a gate. And then mayhap we can slip through it
into the open country."
Merrylips smiled unsteadily. She felt as if she could not breathe until
she was outside of the rebel town. She kept tight hold of Rupert's
hand, and whenever they met a Roundhead soldier, pressed closer to
Rupert's side.
They had threaded a maze of little lanes that were overhung with dingy
houses, and now they came into the pale sunlight of an open space. In
the middle of this space stood a market-cross, and at the right a steep
street wound upward to the castle.
"Sure, here's the centre of things!" Rupert began joyfully. "Now I will
take my bearings. Cheerly, Merrylips! We'll soon be clear o' this coil."
Right in the middle of his brave words, he stopped, with his lips
parted and his eyes wide. Merrylips looked up in great fright. There
by the market-cross, not twenty paces from them, a group of men were
lounging, and one of them was a tall young fellow in a smock frock.
"'Tis Kit Woolgar himself!" whispered Rupert. "Quick, ere he see us!
Turn in at this door!"
Right beside them, as Rupert's quick eye had noted, a door stood open.
Over it hung a board, on which was painted a spotted dog, and a bush
of evergreen, which meant that wine was sold inside. The house was
a tavern, then, and it was called the Spotted Dog. A rough place it
seemed, but Rupert and Merrylips were glad of any port in storm.
Hurriedly they turned in at the open door. They went down a flagged
passage. They stepped into a low-ceiled taproom. There, on benches by
the fire, lounged a half-dozen burly musketeers, who wore the colors of
the Parliament.
At the mere sight of the enemy, Merrylips shrank back, but Rupert
tightened his hold on her hand. He knew that there was no retreat for
them now. With head up, he marched across the sanded floor, and halted
at the bar.
"A penny 'orth o' beer, sirrah, and see that thou dost skink it
handsomely!" he said to the tapster, in his most manlike voice.
Some among the soldiers chuckled, and the tapster grinned, as he handed
Rupert the can of beer for which he had called. But Rupert bore himself
manfully. He clanged down the one penny that Polly had given him, and
then he strode to a bench. There he sat down and made Merrylips sit
beside him.
"Drink slowly," he bade beneath his breath. "By the time we are done,
Kit Woolgar haply will be gone, and we can slip forth again in safety."
But Merrylips had scarcely taken a sup of the beer, when one of the
soldiers sauntered toward them.
"By your coat, master, I judge ye are come hither to join our ranks,"
he said.
His voice was grave, but his eyes were laughing. Clearly he did not
think Rupert so much of a man as Merrylips thought him.
Rupert flushed and took a swallow of beer, and Merrylips hung her head,
but they could not hope to escape by keeping silent. The soldiers were
idle and ready for sport. So they began to chaff the two children,
roughly, but not altogether ill-humoredly. Like it or not, Rupert had
to answer, but after his experience at Polly Woolgar's he was slow to
make up stories.
"We are come hither to fight, yes," he muttered. "To fight for the
Parliament."
"Good Parliament men, eh?" struck in one hulking fellow.
All of a sudden he caught Merrylips by the shoulders and stood her on
her feet. He thrust the can of beer into her hands.
"Where's your civility, bantling?" said he. "Will ye wet your throat,
and never a pious wish for the cause ye follow? Drink it off, come!
Heaven speed the Parliament, and down wi' the wicked king!"
Merrylips had raised the can to her mouth. She was too startled to
dream of anything, except to obey. But as she heard those last words,
she stopped and across the rim stared at the man.
[Illustration: SHE STOPPED AND ACROSS THE RIM STARED AT THE
MAN.]
She had thought that she was going to drink. She feared that Rupert,
who spoke so glibly of fighting for the Parliament, might think it like
a girl, if she should refuse. But, in that second, while she faced the
big musketeer in that dingy taproom, she seemed to stand in her own
chamber at Larkland, in the fair days before ever Will Lowry came, and
she seemed to hear Lady Sybil speak:--
"I would have thee more than a man, my Merrylips. I would have thee a
gentleman."
A gentleman! Surely a gentleman would not deny the cause that he
served, no, not even to save his life!
Merrylips breathed fast. She felt the heart leaping in her throat, but
she thought of Lady Sybil.
"I cannot drink it, sir! I will not drink!" she cried, and let the can
fall clattering from her hold.
"Will not?" the fellow shouted.
She felt his grasp tighten on her arm. She knew that he meant to
strike her. But before the blow had time to fall, Rupert had thrust
himself in front of her.
"Do not you touch him!" he cried in a quavering voice. "'A is too
little! Ye shall not touch him."
"Let the brat drink that pledge. 'Tis a good pledge!" cried one.
"Faith, you shall drink it yourself, you pestilence meddler!" said the
fellow who had first laid hold of Merrylips.
He turned from her and caught Rupert by the arm. Some one gave him a
cup of ale, and he thrust it into Rupert's hand.
"Down with it!" he ordered. "Drink! To the devil wi' false King
Charles!"
Rupert had talked lightly enough of how he should pass himself off for
a Roundhead. But now that the time had come, he hesitated. Then his
face turned gray and set, as it had been on the day when Lieutenant
Digby had bidden him sing.
"Drink!" the Roundhead bade again.
"I'll see you dead first!" Rupert cried. "I am no rebel!"
Merrylips threw her arm across her eyes. In very truth she thought
that Rupert would be killed. She heard men cry out, and she heard them
laugh. The sound of their laughter seemed to her more terrible than
any threats.
One shouted, "Make him drink now!"
Then Rupert cried shrilly, "Away wi' thee, Merrylips! Run! The window!"
Right beside Merrylips a casement stood open. She looked toward it, but
she did not stir. She wondered how Rupert could think that she would
run away and leave him.
Beyond the casement she saw the sun slanting peacefully upon the
market-place, and through the sunlight she saw a horseman go ambling.
He wore a bandage round his head, and in the strong light his chestnut
hair was ruddy, like her brother Munn's.
It all happened in a second. Before the noise of laughter and Rupert's
shrill cry had ceased, she had leaped on a bench beneath the window
and cast herself over the sill. She fell upon the cobbles without. She
sprang up and ran stumbling across the market-place.
As she ran, she screamed. She heard her own voice, thin, like a voice
in a nightmare:--
"Dick Fowell! Oh, Dick Fowell! Help! Help! Help!"