HOW CHARLES RODE TO MADRESFIELD COURT; AND HOW MISTRESS JANE LANE AND
HER BROTHER, WITH SIR CLEMENT FISHER, WERE PRESENTED TO HIS MAJESTY.
Next morning another council of war was held at the palace. No tidings
as yet of Cromwell--no despatches from the Earl of Derby. After an
hour's deliberation the council broke up, and the king proceeded to the
Castle Hill, which was being fortified under the superintendence of
Lord Rothes and Sir William Hamilton.
The city walls, in the reparation of which hundreds of men had been
employed since midnight, were next inspected by his majesty, who was
well satisfied with the progress made. He then visited both camps,
and while riding along the High-street with his escort, attended by
Major Careless, was loudly cheered. Ever since the king's arrival
at Worcester the weather had been splendid--a circumstance that
contributed in no slight degree to the gay and festive air that
prevailed within the city. The taverns were full of roystering
Cavaliers, smoking, drinking, dicing, and singing bacchanalian songs.
On his return from the camp at Pitchcroft, Charles paid a visit to the
mayor at his private residence, and had a long conference with him.
Having given all the instructions he deemed necessary, and feeling that
his presence was no longer required, Charles, anxious to escape from
the ceaseless applications by which he was beset, crossed the river,
and, still attended by his escort and Careless, rode in the direction
of the Malvern Hills, his destination being Madresfield Court, an old
fortified mansion, buried in the midst of thick woods of oak, beech,
elm, and other trees, stretching almost from Malvern to the banks of
the Severn.
The day, as we have said, was splendid, though excessively hot, but
shaded by the trees, which sheltered him with their mighty arms from
the oppressive summer heat, Charles found the ride through the forest
enchanting. He seemed to breathe more freely now that he was away from
the crowded city and the bustling camps.
A lovely sylvan scene, such as he had not for some time contemplated,
was offered to his gaze. Madresfield Chase, which formed part of
the old forest of Malvern, boasted some trees of great age and vast
size. Generally the chase was flat, but occasionally a knoll could be
discerned, crowned with timber. A long and beautiful glade of some
miles in extent led towards the ancient mansion, which could not,
however, be distinguished. Rising in front, above the trees, appeared
the lovely Malvern Hills, and their summits, bathed in sunshine, looked
so exquisite that Charles wished he could be transported to one of them.
"I never look at a mountain top," he remarked to Careless, "without
desiring to ascend to it."
"'Tis a natural wish I think, my liege," replied the aide-de-camp.
"At least, I have the same feeling. Those hills are not difficult of
ascent, and command a magnificent view. The highest of them, and the
nearest to Malvern, is the Worcestershire Beacon; the other is the
Herefordshire Beacon. Both noble hills."
"Can we ride to the top of the Worcestershire Beacon?"
"Easily, sire."
"Have you ever made the ascent on horseback?"
"Never--either on horseback or on foot, sire."
"Then you know nothing about it. However, the difficulties, if there
are any, won't deter me. I cannot resist the inclination to ride up
to the beacon. We will make the ascent in the evening, when it grows
cooler. 'Tis too sultry just now."
"Very true, sire. I should be loth to quit these trees for the bare
hill-side."
They then rode on till they came in sight of the grey old structure,
which was a very good specimen of a castellated mansion, being strongly
built, embattled, flanked with towers, surrounded by a broad, deep
moat, defended by a drawbridge, and approached by a grand embattled
gateway.
During the Civil Wars, Madresfield Court had been alternately in the
possession of the Royalists and the Roundheads. Strongly garrisoned by
Charles I., taken by Colonel Fynes at the first siege of Worcester,
retaken by the Royalists, and again captured in 1646, it had remained,
until within the last few days, in the quiet possession of its owner,
Colonel Lygon, who prudently acted with the Parliamentarians. On the
arrival of Charles at Worcester, Colonel Lygon was driven forth,
after an ineffectual attempt at resistance, and his mansion seized
and garrisoned for the king. It was now in a condition to stand a
siege, being already well victualled, and well provided with arms and
ammunition. Falconets were placed on the gateway, and larger ordnance
on the battlements.
Charles was well pleased to see the royal standard displayed from the
roof of the old mansion, and to note the preparations for defence.
Trumpets were sounded and drums beaten on his approach. The drawbridge
was lowered, and the officers and men prepared to turn out and receive
his majesty. Charles, however, halted beneath a spreading oak that
grew on a wide lawn in front of the mansion, and was contemplating the
ancient edifice with some pride in being once more its master, when
Careless drew his attention to three persons on horseback, who had just
issued from an avenue on the right. From their attire, and from their
steeds, the equestrians looked like persons of distinction. One of the
party, who specially attracted the king's attention, was a young lady,
slight in figure, and extremely graceful. Even beheld at that distance,
it might be safely asserted that she was lovely, and when she drew
near, she more than realised any notions the king had formed of her
beauty. Her companions were Cavaliers undoubtedly--both fine-looking
young men, distinguished by their military bearing.
"Know you whom they are?" inquired the king of Careless.
"Unless I mistake not, sire, he in the black velvet doublet, slashed
with white, is Colonel Lane of Bentley Hall, in Staffordshire----"
"The Lanes are staunch Royalists?" interrupted Charles.
"Staunchest of the staunch, sire. With the colonel is his sister,
Mistress Jane Lane, one of the fairest damsels in the county, and
devoted to your majesty. He on the roan horse, and in the green jerkin,
laced with silver, is Sir Clement Fisher, of Packington Hall, in
Warwickshire."
[Illustration: JANE LANE PRESENTED TO CHARLES II.]
"Jane Lane's suitor, I'll be sworn!" cried Charles.
"Your majesty has hit it," replied Careless, with a smile.
While this brief colloquy took place, the party had stopped, as if
awaiting permission to advance.
"Bring them to me, and present them," said Charles.
Careless, who was a _preux chevalier_, executed his task with infinite
grace. It was a charming sight to witness Jane Lane's presentation to
the young king. There was an ingenuousness in her manner that delighted
Charles. She seemed to possess great spirit and force of character,
and yet she had all the most agreeable feminine qualities. As to her
beauty there could be no question. Brighter black eyes, features of
greater delicacy and refinement, tresses more exquisite, Charles had
never beheld. Though she coloured deeply when she first encountered the
king's gaze, she manifested no embarrassment.
There was a certain likeness between Colonel Lane and his sister,
though the colonel had strongly-marked traits, a firm mouth, and a
bold, determined look. But he had dark eyes like Jane, and in them
resided the expression that constituted the likeness. Sir Clement
Fisher was an admirable specimen of a Cavalier--handsome, brave,
chivalrous, he seemed formed to win a fair lady's heart. Whether he had
won that of Jane Lane will be seen.
"How is it I have not yet seen you at Worcester, gentlemen?" inquired
Charles.
"We are on our way thither, sire," replied Colonel Lane. "You will see
us at the Muster at Pitchcroft to-morrow. We have not been lukewarm in
your majesty's cause."
"Even I have done something for you, sire," said Jane. "This morning I
have secured your majesty forty horse; and I hope to render you still
better service before the day is over."
"My sister is zealous, you perceive, sire," remarked Colonel Lane, with
a smile.
"Were there a hundred like her I should soon have an army," observed
Charles, highly pleased. "But what is the great service you hope to
render me?"
"Nay, sire," she rejoined, playfully, "you must allow me to keep my
secret. 'Twill be a surprise to you to-morrow."
"Then I will ask you no further questions, yet I would fain know why
you came here. You could not have expected to find me at Madresfield."
"Pardon me, your majesty, I _did_ expect to find you here."
"Oddsfish! you must be a witch," cried Charles, laughing.
"There is no sorcery in the matter, sire. Have you not sent a messenger
to Mr. Thomas Hornyold, of Blackmore Park, commanding him to attend
upon you at Madresfield this afternoon?"
"And you have seen the messenger?"
"I have, sire. I have read the message, and I told Tom Hornyold I would
come in his stead, and make his excuses. The blame of his disobedience
of your majesty's order must rest entirely with me. I have sent him to
Sir Rowland Berkeley."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Charles.
"He will do more good with Sir Rowland than here. But that is not all.
He has promised me to see Sir Walter Blount, Sir John Winford, and Mr.
Ralph Sheldon of Beoly. Will you forgive now for my great presumption,
sire?"
"Forgive you! I am beyond measure indebted to you."
"Sire!" she cried, with a look that bespoke her conviction of the
truth of what she uttered, "I believe that I am destined to render you
a signal service. My brother will confirm what I am about to say. It
was foretold of me when I was a child, by a famous astrologer, that I
should save a prince's life. The prophecy must refer to you."
"It may be so," said Charles, smiling at her enthusiasm. "At all
events, I shall look upon you as my guardian angel."
"My heart beats only with loyalty, sire. I have no other feeling in my
breast."
"No other feeling, fair mistress?" said the king, glancing towards Sir
Clement.
"It is perfectly true, sire," observed the young baronet, with a
somewhat despondent look. "Mistress Jane Lane vows she will never wed
till your majesty is seated on the throne."
"And I will keep my vow," cried Jane.
"Then I trust ere long Sir Clement may be in a position to claim you,
and that I may be present at your nuptials," said Charles. "But whither
you go?" he added, seeing they were preparing to depart. "Will you not
enter the house?"
"We must pray your majesty to excuse us," said Colonel Lane,
bowing. "We have much to do. We are going to cross the hills into
Herefordshire.'"
"Nay, then you must stay till the heat of the day is abated, and I
myself will bear you company for part of your journey, for I design to
ascend the Worcestershire Beacon. 'Tis not fit your sister should be
exposed to this fierce sun."
"I am not one of those damsels that care for my complexion, sire,"
observed Jane, laughing. "The sun will not melt me."
"Nay, then I will not detain you," rejoined Charles. "I shall see you
to-morrow at the Muster at Pitchcroft. You must not be absent, fair
mistress."
"Be sure I will not, sire," she replied.
Bending reverentially to the king, she rode off with the others.
"A noble girl!" exclaimed Charles, gazing after her with admiration.
"She is the incarnation of loyalty."