nothing to trouble me. I have not lost a kingdom. I have not even lost
a mistress."
"I am not so certain of that," laughed Charles.
"At any rate, her loss does not give me much concern. Women are
enigmas, and pass my comprehension."
"Thou art thinking of one in particular."
"The sex are all alike--whimsical, capricious, inconstant."
"But always attractive. What hath displeased thy mistress with thee?"
"On my honour, sire, I know not. Methought she was flying at higher
game."
"You need fear no rival in me, Will. I am proof against all feminine
wiles just now. I have something else to think of. But let us examine
our quarters."
"Climb a little higher up, my liege, and you will find a most
comfortable seat--there!--between the main stem and one of the upper
branches."
"I have it," said Charles, seating himself. "Oddsfish! how thick the
foliage is! 'Tis a perfect luxury to sit amongst it. Find a place near
me if thou canst."
Careless obeyed, and while searching for a convenient place among the
branches, suddenly called out:
"Adzooks! We have a companion, sire."
"A companion!" exclaimed the king, in surprise. "What sort of
companion?"
"An owl," replied Careless. "A great horned owl. Behold him!--perched
on that branch, puffing angrily at me for intruding upon his rest. I
wonder he has not taken flight. I'll try and capture him. He may be of
use to us."
"In what way useful? We are better without him than with him, methinks."
But the interdiction was too late. Careless had caught the owl by
throwing his mantle over him.
"Here he is, sire!" he cried, delighted with his success.
"If thou couldst cook him now he is caught, there would be some gain,"
laughed Charles.
"He will serve to amuse us if he answers no other purpose," said
Careless. "But hark! I hear a sound." And after listening intently for
a moment, he added in a low voice to the king, "'Tis the trampling of
horse. A patrol is coming this way."
"I hear the voices of the rogues. Are we perfectly concealed?"
"Perfectly, my liege. Keep quite still. I beseech you! The slightest
noise may betray us."
From the sounds that reached their ears it was plain that three or
four horsemen had halted beneath the tree, and were lamenting the ill
success that had attended their search for the royal fugitive.
"'Tis strange Charles Stuart contrives to evade us so long," remarked
one of them. "I begin to think he has escaped."
"Had he attempted to escape, we should assuredly have captured him,"
cried another. "He hath baffled us by keeping quiet. I doubt not he is
still in this wood. Ah! if we could only discover his retreat. That
Humphrey Penderel could have helped us to it if he would. He is a lying
rogue."
"Colonel James thinks that the malignant prince will be found at
Boscobel," observed a third. "But I doubt it. He does not enter a
house. My belief is that he is hidden in a tree."
"Perchance in a tree like this?" observed the first interlocutor. "If
such is thy opinion, dismount quickly, and climb the tree--even to the
top thereof."
"And be laughed at for my pains. No, I will not climb the tree, but I
will discharge my caliver into its branches. If I bring down Charles
Stuart with the shot ye will not mock me."
"Of a surety not--we will greatly applaud thy wisdom," cried the others.
Upon this the trooper who had previously spoken, pointed his caliver
upwards, and fired into the thick of the branches. A loud rustling
sound followed the shot.
"I have hit something!" cried the trooper, exultingly. "Peradventure it
is the king."
"If it be the king he has taken the form of a bird," cried the
troopers, laughing.
As they spoke the owl dropped down on their heads, and its wing being
broken by the shot, it fluttered along the ground.
Shouting with laughter, the troopers pursued the unlucky bird, but
could not catch it.
"I have had a narrow escape," said Careless to the king, as soon as the
coast was clear. "That rogue's bullet came confoundedly near me. Your
majesty will now admit that an owl may be of some use. It has helped us
to get rid of those rascally troopers."
CHAPTER V.
HOW THEY BREAKFASTED IN THE OAK.
Thankful for their escape, the king and Careless remained perfectly
quiet for some time, conversing only in whispers, lest an enemy might
be lurking near.
More than an hour elapsed without anything occurring to cause them
fresh alarm, when a low whistle was heard.
"A signal!" exclaimed Charles.
"It may be a device to induce us to discover ourselves," whispered
Careless.
After a pause the whistle was repeated, and somewhat more loudly.
"I will go a little lower down and endeavour to make out who it is,"
said Careless.
While he was cautiously descending, a voice, which both recognised,
called out:
"'Tis I, William Penderel!"
"Heaven grant he has brought us something to eat!" exclaimed the king.
"Go down to him quickly, Will."
On emerging from the foliage, Careless beheld William Penderel at the
foot of the tree, having a basket in his hand and a cushion under his
arm.
"Never wert thou more welcome, friend William," cried Careless,
enchanted at the sight. "His majesty is well-nigh famished, and I
should have been forced to come to thee for food hadst thou not made
thy appearance."
"You must not quit the tree on any consideration," returned William.
"Boscobel is surrounded by the enemy. I have been obliged to steal
hither by a path known only to myself, and even then I ran the greatest
risk. Do not come down, I pray your honour," he added, seeing that
Careless, who was standing on the lowest bough, was about to descend.
"I will hand the basket up to you."
The feat would have been difficult to any man of less gigantic stature
than William Penderel, but was easily accomplished by him.
Just as Careless obtained possession of the basket, the king appeared
above his head.
"Here is your majesty's breakfast," cried Careless, gleefully.
"And here is a cushion for your majesty to sit upon while
breakfasting," said William, handing it up.
"Truly, thou art most thoughtful, William," said the king. "I cannot
thank thee sufficiently."
"I must not remain here longer now," said the forester. "I will return
when I can do so with safety. Meantime, I counsel your majesty to keep
close hidden."
"Answer me one question before you go, William," said Charles. "Has the
house been searched?"
"No, sire," he replied. "But it is strictly watched by the rebel
soldiers. Apparently, they are waiting for their leader. I must get
back before he arrives!"
With this he departed.
The king and Careless then took the basket to the upper part of the
tree, and arranged the cushion between the forked branches, so that it
formed a very comfortable seat.
Evidently replenished by Dame Joan, the basket contained all that
could be desired for a substantial meal--cold meat, a cold pie, bread,
butter, and cheese, with wooden platters, wooden spoons, horn cups, and
every other requisite, including a couple of white napkins. Nor was a
flask of canary omitted.
"Heaven bless that thoughtful Dame Joan! How much we owe her!" cried
Charles, as he spread a napkin on his knee. "Give me some of that pie,
Will, and take good care you let none fall while cutting it."
"Fear me not, sire," said Careless, performing the office of carver
very dexterously, all things considered, and handing a large piece of
pigeon-pie to the king.
He then set to work himself, and with such goodwill that in a
marvellously short space of time the dish was completely emptied. The
horn cups were then filled, and a fresh attack was made on the cold
meat, and continued stoutly for some time, till both parties were
obliged to give in. Careless, however, held out longer than his royal
master.
Everything being replaced in the basket, it was hung upon a branch, to
be again applied to in case of need. The pangs of hunger, from which
he had been suffering rather sharply for the last few hours, being now
appeased, Charles began to feel extremely drowsy, and at length, being
quite unable to resist the strong inclination to slumber, he reclined
his head on Careless's lap, and almost instantly dropped asleep.
The chief anxiety of the faithful attendant was to prevent his royal
master from falling, but there was little chance of such an accident,
for the king never moved. The real risk was lest Careless himself
should follow his majesty's example, for he was oppressed by drowsiness
in an equal degree, but by a great effort he conquered the feeling.
Thus things continued for some time, during which Careless never
altered his position for fear of disturbing the slumbering monarch. But
Charles was not easily awakened, as will presently appear.
On a sudden, Careless was roused from the dreamy state of mind in which
he was lost by a cry for help, and as he happened to be thinking of
Jasper at the moment, he naturally concluded that the cry must proceed
from the page.
In another moment he became convinced that his supposition was correct.
This was not the first time he had heard that voice in distress,
though under far different circumstances from the present. He could
not look out from his place of concealment to ascertain the cause of
the outcries, but it seemed to him that the luckless page was flying
from a patrol, and in imminent danger of being captured. Had it been
possible he would have flown to the youth's assistance, but he could
not quit his position. His anxiety almost amounted to torture, but he
was obliged to bear it.
Charles slept on soundly as ever.
Listening intently, Careless heard the shouts of the troopers as they
galloped among the trees, and he again heard Jasper's voice, but faint
and far off. Then it ceased altogether. Was the fugitive captured? As
Careless could still hear the fierce shouts of the pursuers he hoped
not. But he was left in a state of agonising suspense, for very soon
the shouts of the troopers ceased also.
Still the king moved not, but continued buried in sleep for some time
longer. At last he roused himself, but it took him some minutes to
completely shake off his lethargy.
"I have had a strange dream, Will--a kind of nightmare," he said.
"Methought that pretty page, Jasper, was calling out for help, and
neither of us could stir."
"'Twas no dream, sire," replied Careless. "The circumstance actually
occurred. I was awake, and heard the cries. They pierced my heart."
"Why did you not answer them?"
"My duty to your majesty forbade me. I would not even waken you--for I
well knew what your chivalrous impulse would have suggested."
"And you allowed him to be captured?--ha!"
"I trust he escaped--but I cannot say. I am now right glad that I did
not wake your majesty. 'Twas a hard matter to keep quiet I will frankly
confess, but I could not desert my post. Duty before everything."
The king smiled, and patted his shoulder. "Thou art ever faithful," he
said.
CHAPTER VI.
HOW COLONEL JAMES HALTED BENEATH THE OAK.
Nothing more passed between them for some time, and Charles seemed to
be once more yielding to lethargic feelings, when he was effectually
aroused by the trampling of horse. Evidently a small detachment of
troopers was coming that way, and a halt took place beneath the oak.
No sooner did the voice of their leader reach Careless's ears, than he
remarked in a whisper to the king, "Tis Colonel James, sire."
"We must not quit this forest empty-handed," said James. "Unless the
knave and his wife who have care of Boscobel have deceived me, Charles
Stuart is not concealed there. Neither is he at either of those houses
of abomination, White Ladies, or Black Ladies. Yet I am well assured
he is hereabouts, and have him I will; for what answer shall I give to
the Lord General, if the head of the malignants be suffered to escape.
Search, then, most carefully. Let men be posted at various points, and
if any one be found in the forest--woodman or not--compel him to give
an account of himself, and if he fails to do so satisfactorily, arrest
him."
"We did discover a youth in the forest, but being exceeding fleet of
foot, he escaped us," remarked one of the soldiers.
"How? escaped!" cried Colonel James, angrily. "It might have been
Charles Stuart himself. Why did you not shoot him, Madmannah?"
"It was not Charles Stuart, colonel," replied the soldier. "'Twas a
mere stripling. We were close upon his heels when he disappeared
suddenly from our sight--nor could we find him again."
"Ye are not half quick enough," said Colonel James, sternly. "In which
direction did the youth run?"
"Towards Boscobel House, colonel," replied another of the soldiers.
"But he could not have gained the house."
"Ye have done your work negligently," said James, still more sternly.
"The reproof is unmerited, colonel," said Madmannah. "We have shown no
lack of zeal."
"Find me Charles Stuart, and I will retract what I have said. But I
repeat, ye have done your work imperfectly. I will have every tree in
the forest searched wherein a man might be hidden, and I will begin
with this oak."
It will be readily supposed that the determination thus expressed by
Colonel James caused great alarm to Charles and his companion, but
their uneasiness increased when the Republican leader continued in an
authoritative voice:
"Thou art active, Ezra. Dismount at once, and climb the tree."
The king and Careless gave themselves up for lost. There seemed to be
no possibility of escape. But they were quickly relieved by Ezra's
response to the order.
"No use in searching this oak, colonel."
"No use, sayst thou?"
"None, colonel. I have already discharged my caliver into the tree."
"That is true," said the other soldiers.
"Nay, if that be so, 'twere a waste of time to climb the tree," said
James. "We will look out for another, further on."
"Shall we fire a volley into the tree, colonel, to make sure?" asked
another of the soldiers.
"'Tis needless," replied James. "March!"
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THEY PLAYED AT DICE IN THE OAK.
The occupants of the oak breathed again after the departure of Colonel
James and his troopers, and though they had been greatly alarmed at the
time, they soon recovered their spirits, and laughed at the incident.
"Perhaps the excitement was a little too great," observed Charles; "but
it has served to break the monotony of our somewhat dull existence.
Time, it must be owned, passes very slowly when one is compelled, like
the fowls of the air, to roost in a tree. I hope we shall soon have
another visit from our faithful William Penderel."
"Your majesty must not look for him before night."
"I would night were come. How many wearisome hours have we to pass?
Never did I feel so strong a desire for active exercise--just because I
must not take it."
"Your majesty had best go to sleep again. Pity we have neither cards
nor dice to divert the tedium."
"I have it," cried Charles. "Cards cannot be provided, but the other
deficiency may be easily supplied. Acorns will serve for dice, and our
horn drinking-cups will make admirable dice-boxes."
"Bravo! your majesty has a rare wit," exclaimed Careless.
Charmed with the notion, he set to work at once to carry it out, and
gathering a few acorns, marked them with the point of his dagger. The
horn cups were next produced, and carefully wiped with a napkin, which
was then folded and laid on a branch of the tree to serve for a board.
"At what game will your majesty be pleased to play?" cried Careless,
rattling the extempore dice in the cornet.
"Hazard would be most appropriate," replied Charles. "But we have had
enough of that of late. I prefer 'passage,'" he added, taking three of
the dice. "Plague on't, I have nothing to stake--not a crown."
"Your majesty has already staked a crown----"
"Ay, and lost it," interrupted the king.
"Only temporarily, sire. You will soon have it back again. I have a few
pistoles left," he added, producing his purse. "Shall we divide them?"
"Be it so," replied Charles.
Putting down a couple of the pistoles he had received from Careless, he
then threw, calling out "Quatre," as he made the cast, and he continued
throwing until stopped by Careless, who exclaimed:
"Doublets above ten. Your majesty passes and wins."
"I thought I was in luck to-day," cried Charles.
The play went on, without much benefit to Careless. Ere long, every
pistole was swept up by the king, who was put into very good humour by
his success.
"Oddsfish! I have won all thy money, Will," he exclaimed. "But take
back half, and let us begin anew. Since we have found out this pleasant
pastime, I care not how long I am detained here. Never, sure, was oak
so enchanting as this."
"Suppose we try 'in and in,' by way of variety, sire?" said Careless.
Charles assented, and they began to play again, and soon became so
excited by the game, that they neglected the dictates of prudence,
and talked louder than they ought to have done. Suddenly a sound from
below, like the clapping of hands, brought them to their senses. They
became instantly silent, and regarded each other anxiously.
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THEY HAD A VISITOR IN THE OAK, AND IN WHAT MANNER THEY TREATED HIM.
The sound was repeated. Though believing it to be a signal, they did
not dare to respond.
"Do you hear me?" cried a voice which they both recognised. "'Tis
I--Jasper. Come down quickly. There is danger."
"Danger of what?" demanded Careless.
But no answer was made. The page was gone.
"We had best attend to the warning, sire," observed Careless.
Charles thought so too, and they were preparing to descend, when they
were stopped by hearing other voices--rough and menacing in tone--at
the foot of the tree. It was evident that the speakers were a couple of
troopers, who had tied up their horses and come thither on foot.
"If it should turn out as I conjecture, Ezra," said one of them, "and
Charles Stuart proves to be hidden in this tree, we shall easily effect
his capture, and obtain the reward."
"Without doubt. But why dost thou think he is here hidden, Madmannah?"
"A revelation seemed made to me, when I came hither an hour or two
ago with Colonel James," replied Madmannah. "But I would not disclose
what was then imparted to me--save to thee, Ezra. Thou shalt share the
reward."
"And the danger," observed Ezra.
"The danger will be mine, seeing that I mean to climb the tree," said
Madmannah. "Thou wilt remain here."
"I am content," replied Ezra. "But I have little faith that thou wilt
find him thou seekest."
This discourse reached those above.
"There are but two of them, sire," remarked Careless to the king.
"Shall we descend and attack them?"
"Not so," replied Charles. "Let this fellow come up if he will. We can
hurl him down on his comrade's head."
It now became evident from the noise that Madmannah was climbing the
tree.
"Give me thy dagger," said the king. "I will deal with him."
Careless obeyed, but held himself in readiness to assist the king.
As Madmannah entered the thick part of the tree, where he was concealed
from his comrade's view, he was suddenly seized with an iron grasp by
the king, who placed the dagger at his throat.
"Utter a word, and thou art a dead man," said Charles, in a deep
whisper.
His looks showed so plainly that he would execute his threat, that
Madmannah did not dare to disobey, but prudently held his tongue.
Seeing how matters stood, and fearing lest the trooper might free
himself sufficiently from the king's grasp to draw a pistol, Careless
quickly descended and disarmed him--depriving him of all weapons he had
about him.
"I will slay thee without hesitation unless thou renderest implicit
obedience to my commands," said Charles to the trooper.
At this moment Ezra called from below:
"Hast thou found him?"
"Say that thou hast lost thy labour," whispered Charles, holding the
poniard more closely to the trooper's throat. "Speak loudly, so that he
may hear thee."
Madmannah did as enjoined.
"I expected as much," cried Ezra, angrily. "Thou hast brought me here
on a fool's errand. Come down quickly, or I will depart without thee."
"Let thy answer be, 'Go, an' thou wilt,'" said Charles.
And Madmannah repeated what he was told.
"Add, that he may go to the devil if he is so minded," said Careless.
Madmannah made the required addition, and Ezra marched off in high
dudgeon.
"Now let me go," implored Madmannah. "I swear not to betray you."
"We cannot trust him," said Careless. "These false-hearted knaves
regard not an oath. We can only insure his silence by putting him to
death. Let us hang him to a branch of the tree."
"Spare me!" cried the trooper, horribly frightened. "By all that is
sacred I swear not to betray you!"
"I am for hanging him. 'Tis the safest plan," said Careless.
Though not seriously uttered, the threats produced the desired effect.
The trooper begged hard for his life.
"Shall we let him go?" said Charles, somewhat moved.
"Assuredly not," replied Careless. "Since he has been fool enough to
run his head into a noose, he must take the consequences."
"It will greatly inconvenience us to detain him as a prisoner," said
Charles. "But there is no alternative."
"Pardon me, there is the alternative of hanging."
"Hark thee, fellow," cried Charles. "Thy life shall be spared, but
thou must submit to restraint. Thy hands must be bound, and thine eyes
blindfolded."
"Nay, if that be done unto me, I shall fall down from the tree, and
break my neck," groaned Madmannah.
"No matter," said Careless.
"Seat thyself between these branches, and move not," said the king.
Aware that resistance would be useless, Madmannah obeyed. Careless then
took off the prisoner's belt, and with it fastened his arms tightly
behind his back; completing his task by tying his own scarf over the
man's eyes.
"Attempt to call out and we will gag thee," he said.
"Nay, I will keep silence," rejoined Madmannah. "Yet tell me how long I
am to be detained here?"
"Till this time to-morrow," answered Careless; "for then we shall be
far off."
"Then ye mean to leave me here?" said the prisoner.
"We shall leave thee, but the tree will be watched," remarked Charles.
Madmannah asked no further questions. Naturally, his presence was a
great annoyance to the king and his companion, and they moved as far
from him as they could, and conversed in whispers.
Things went on thus for more than an hour, when the voice of Ezra was
heard from below, calling out:
"Art thou still here, Madmannah?"
The prisoner heard the inquiry, but did not dare to make any answer,
for he felt the point of the poniard at his throat, and Ezra departed.
No one else--friend or foe--came near the oak.
The day seemed interminable--but night came at last. In expectation
of the arrival of William Penderel, they had got all in readiness for
departure. But what was to be done with the prisoner? That was rather a
perplexing consideration, for the king did not altogether like to leave
him in the tree. Charles was still undecided, when a signal was given,
and peering out from the screen of foliage he could just distinguish
three huge figures standing at the foot of the tree.
"The fellow shall go down with us," he observed in an under tone to
Careless. "William Penderel and two of his brothers are below. They
will dispose of him. Unloose him quickly."
Careless obeyed the injunction.
"Am I to be set at liberty?" asked the prisoner, joyfully, as his hands
were unfastened.
"That depends," replied Careless. "The bandage will not be removed from
thine eyes, so it will behove thee to be careful in descending."
Meantime, the king had gone down to explain matters, taking the basket
and the cushion with him. As he expected, he found William Penderel,
with Trusty Dick and John. All three were amazed to hear that a
prisoner had been made. Though the task was by no means agreeable
to them, Dick and John did not for a moment dispute his majesty's
commands, but agreed to convey the trooper to a distance.
"We will conduct him to the roughest part of the wood and leave him
there, to find his way out as he best can," said Dick.
"If he gets drowned in a pool, or stifled in a bog, it won't much
matter," added John.
Madmannah reached the lowest branch in safety, but he then slipped down
and fell to the ground. When he arose he was seized on either side by a
vigorous grasp, while a stern voice--it was that of Dick--bade him come
along, and keep silence.
"We have got thy pistols," added John, "and we will shoot thee through
the head shouldst thou attempt to fly, or give the alarm. So take heed
what thou art about."
They then marched off with the prisoner between them.
As soon as they were out of sight and hearing, William Penderel
cautiously conducted the king and his companion to Boscobel House.
CHAPTER IX.
HOW CHARLES SLEPT IN THE SECRET CLOSET; AND HOW CARELESS SLEPT IN A
PRIEST'S HOLE IN THE GARRET.
After the long and anxious day he had passed in the oak, it was with
a feeling of indescribable satisfaction that Charles found himself
once more in Boscobel House--not in the parlour into which he had been
shown in the morning, but in the large comfortable hall--a couple
of nicely roasted chickens before him, and Dame Joan in attendance.
Careless, who was seated at the opposite side of the table, was quite
as well pleased as his royal master, and both did justice to the repast
provided for them. Charles, as we have already remarked, possessed a
happy temperament, that enabled him to cast off his cares, and with
plenty to eat, and a flask of good wine within reach--to say nothing of
a black-jack full of strong ale, he desired nothing better--and laughed
heartily while recounting the many alarming incidents of the day to
Joan.
"What trials your majesty must have gone through!" exclaimed the good
dame, lifting up her hands. "The saints be praised that you are here to
describe them."
"I shouldn't mind passing another day in the oak," observed Charles,
"if I were certain of having such a supper as this at the end of it. I
trust the noble tree that has given me shelter may 'scape the woodman's
axe!"
Just then the door opened, and William Penderel entered, followed by
his two brothers.
"William," cried his wife, with irrepressible enthusiasm, "his majesty
expects you and your brothers to protect the royal oak!"
"The royal oak!" cried William.
"Thy wife has so named the tree," said the king, "and I approve the
designation."
"Then the royal oak it shall be called," cried William, sharing Joan's
enthusiasm, as did his brothers.
"Pledge me in this cup of wine that you will protect the good old oak,"
cried Charles, drinking from the cup which he had just before filled,
and handing it to William Penderel, who received it on his knees with
the utmost respect.
"I pledge myself to preserve the royal oak, so far as lies in my
power," he said, placing the cup to his lips.
When he had finished, each of his brothers knelt down, and drank the
pledge solemnly.
"Your majesty may depend that the royal oak will be well protected,"
cried Joan.
"I doubt it not," said Charles. "Now tell me what you have done with
the prisoner?" he added to Trusty Dick.
"We took him to Rock Coppice in Chillington Park," replied Dick, "and
forced him to descend into a deep dry pit, from which he will find some
difficulty in getting out."
"But he may know you again?" said Charles.
"No fear of that," said John. "We didn't remove the bandage from his
eyes, and disguised our voices. Here are his pistols."
"Give them to me," said William. "I may need them. I shall keep watch
throughout the night."
"John and I will remain here likewise to relieve guard," said Dick; "so
that his majesty may rest securely."
"No discovery was made when the house was searched by the enemy to-day?
ha!" cried Charles.
"None whatever, sire," replied Joan. "Our lady be praised for
misleading them."
"Where am I to be lodged, good dame?" asked Charles.
"There is a very fine old bed in the squire's room as we call it,"
replied Joan--"Squire Peter Giffard, and his father, ay, and his
grandfather, Squire John Giffard, who built this house, have often
slept in it--but I dare not offer it to your majesty."
"Lodge me where you will, good dame," replied the king, with manifest
symptoms of fatigue. "I wish you all good night."
"Shall I attend your majesty?" said Careless.
Charles declined, and preceded by Joan, who carried a light, mounted an
oak staircase, which sprang from the further end of the hall.
On arriving at the landing-place, his conductress opened the door of a
good-sized apartment, in the midst of which stood a large old-fashioned
bed, with rich, though faded curtains. The room, which had a most
comfortable look in the eyes of the wearied monarch, was panelled
with black oak, and partly hung with tapestry. On the walls were
portraits of Sir Thomas Giffard, tenth Lord of Chillington, and his
two spouses--Dorothy, daughter of Sir John Montgomery, of Caverswall,
and Ursula, daughter of Sir Robert Throckmorton, of Coughton--both
extremely handsome women.
Having drawn aside a piece of the arras opposite the foot of the bed,
Joan opened a sliding panel in the wainscot, and a dark closet was then
revealed.
"Is this the hiding-place?" asked Charles.
"Your majesty shall see," she replied.
And she then opened another sliding panel at the back of the closet.
The aperture thus discovered admitted them to a small square room,
which evidently formed part of the projecting chimney-stack, and had
small windows at the front and at either side, looking into the garden.
It was evident from its position that the room stood over the porch.
"This cannot be a hiding-place," said Charles.
"Your majesty is right," replied Joan. "But it deceives the searchers."
She then drew back, and signing to the king to follow her, returned
to the closet, and taking up a small mat in one corner, raised up a
trap-door, so artfully contrived in the floor, that Charles could not
detect it, and disclosed a small ladder, leading to a room beneath.
"There is the hiding-place," she said. "The small room below is built
in the chimney, whence by a narrow staircase and a small postern
covered with ivy, you can gain the garden, and from the garden may
reach the wood, where you are safe."
"I understand," said the king, struck with the ingenuity of the
contrivance.
"A pallet bed is made up in the lower room. The place is small and
uncomfortable, but 'tis safe."
"That is the main point," cried Charles. "I must sacrifice comfort to
security."
"The Earl of Derby slept here all the time he stayed at Boscobel," said
Joan.
"Then I have no right to complain," cried Charles.
"Should any alarm occur I will run up-stairs instantly and make all
secure," said Joan. "Holy Mary and all holy angels watch over your
majesty!"
Charles then took the light from her, passed through the trap-door, and
descended to the lower room.
Having carefully restored the panel to its place, Joan went
down-stairs, and telling Careless she would find him a safe
resting-place, led him to the upper floor of the house.
There was nothing whatever in the garret they had reached to indicate
that it could be used for the purpose of concealment. The roof was
so low that Careless could scarcely stand upright beneath it. Beyond
it were other small rooms lighted by the gable windows. A straw mat
was lying on the floor. This Joan removed and revealed a trap-door,
beneath which was a cavity about six or seven feet deep, profoundly
dark, and only just large enough to hold a single person. So much did
this "priest's hole," as it was called, resemble a cell that Careless
shuddered as he gazed into it. However, he made no complaint, but let
himself down into the hole, which he found somewhat more roomy than he
expected.
Joan handed him the lamp she had brought with her, and on looking
round, he perceived that a pallet was laid at the bottom of the recess,
but nothing more than a blanket and a pillow were provided.
"I must perform this act of penance for my sins," cried Careless. "But
I am so sleepy that I do not think I shall pass the night in prayer
like the holy men who have previously sought refuge here. I do not
require the light, good dame," he added, giving back the lamp to her.
"But I pray you not to close the trap-door, for I feel as if I should
be suffocated in this hole."
"Colonel Roscarrock slept two or three nights in the priest's hole,"
replied Joan; "and he chose to have the trap-door shut, judging it
safer. But your honour's instructions shall be carefully attended to,
and the lamp shall be left on the table. I wish you good night."
No sooner was she gone than Careless laid himself down upon the pallet,
and notwithstanding the confined space, and the general discomfort of
the priest's hole, so greatly was he fatigued, that he immediately fell
fast asleep.
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH THE KING PROVES HIMSELF A GOOD COOK.
All passed quietly that night at Boscobel. Charles slept soundly in the
secret closet; and Careless slept equally soundly in the priest's hole.
The faithful brothers kept watch, by turns, outside the house, and Joan
did not go to bed at all, but took a little repose in an arm-chair
in the squire's bedchamber. Careless awoke at an early hour in the
morning, and left the garret as quickly as he could. Finding the king
was not astir, he did not choose to disturb him, but went forth into
the garden. After strolling about for a few minutes, he proceeded to
the little mount we have already described, and entered the arbour on
its summit. What was his surprise to find some one asleep there. It was
Jasper, who was roused by Careless's approach, and opened his eyes.
"You here!" exclaimed Careless.
"I have not been long here," said the page. "I have been hidden in the
forest, and have had several narrow escapes of capture."
"Both his majesty and myself have been most anxious for your safety,"
said Careless. "You look sadly tired."
"Fasting does not very well agree with me," replied Jasper. "One
cannot find much to eat in the forest. I have had nothing for nearly
twenty-four hours, and I find myself particularly hungry, I can assure
you."
"No wonder," cried Careless, in a sympathising tone. "Come with me into
the house, and I will get you some breakfast at once."
"The offer is too welcome to be refused--though I confess I have some
scruples. What will his majesty think of me?"
"His majesty will be delighted to see you--but he has not yet left his
couch."
What more passed between them we do not pretend to say, but they
remained within the arbour for another minute or so, and then
descending from the mount proceeded with very leisurely footsteps
towards the porch.
"How strange is this meeting!" murmured Careless. "Never did I dream we
should be here together."
"'Tis a charming old place, I think, and I could be quite happy here
for a month, if those Roundhead soldiers wouldn't molest me."
They were now not far from the porch, when a rustling was heard among
the ivy that clothed the base of the chimney-stack, and the next
moment the king came forth from the secret postern.
Jasper was quite startled by the sudden apparition, for so well
concealed was the outlet that it could scarcely be detected, even when
the observers were close at hand.
Charles smiled at the page's look of astonishment.
"You are not familiar with the wonders of this enchanted castle," he
said. "But, i'faith, I should not have ventured forth if I had not
reconnoitred you through a loophole."
"I hope your majesty has rested well," said the page, with an obeisance.
"Never better," replied Charles. "I made one long nap of it. Where did
you find a couch?"
"Partly at the foot of a tree, sire, and partly in yonder arbour, where
Major Careless found me a few minutes ago."
"Oddsfish! then you have passed the night in the forest?"
"Precisely so, sire."
"And I fear without supper?"
"Supper would have been superfluous, if I had dined."
"Careless, we must have breakfast instantly," cried Charles. "Let me
know when it is ready."
"Come with me, Jasper, thou may'st be needed."
"No; Jasper will remain with me. I want to talk to him."
Careless rather reluctantly departed.
The king then began to question the page as to his adventures in the
forest, but had not learnt all particulars, when Careless came back.
"Oddsfish! thou hast made haste," exclaimed Charles.
"Dame Joan desires to know what it will please your majesty to have for
breakfast."
"Didst tell her I have company?"
"I explained that there is a hungry page with your majesty, and she
thought he had best come in and render help."
"Willingly," cried Jasper.
"Nay, we will all go in," said Charles.
Active preparations for the morning meal were being made in the hall as
the king entered with his attendants.
A large fire was burning in the grate, at which Dame Joan was roasting
a brace of partridges, that emitted a very delectable odour.
"Nothing can be better than those birds, dame, unless it be a broiled
mutton chop?" he cried.
"There is a neck of mutton in the larder, an' please your majesty, but
I fear the meat may prove too fresh," replied Joan.
"Heed not that," cried Charles. "Mutton chops are the very thing. I
will broil them myself. Bring me the gridiron, dame."
Very much amused by the order, Joan obeyed, and the chops being duly
prepared, were skilfully broiled by the king, who never for a moment
quitted his post, but turned them with a fork when requisite.
While he was thus employed, William Penderel came in, and could
scarcely believe his eyes when he found the king standing before the
fire. But the faithful fellow did not remain long in doors, for he was
now left alone for a time, his brothers having gone to their homes.
Having completed his task to his entire satisfaction, and the infinite
amusement of the lookers-on, Charles proceeded to the head of the
table, and bidding Careless and the page sit down on either side of
him, the chops were served by Joan, and greatly enjoyed. Charles
insisted that the good dame should taste his cookery, but she would
touch nothing till she had served the partridges. She then discussed
the chop at the lower end of the table, and declared, no doubt with
truth, that she had never tasted aught so good in her life.
CHAPTER XI.
WHAT BROUGHT FATHER HUDDLESTONE TO BOSCOBEL.
After breakfast, Charles, attended by Careless, went out into the
garden, and having previously consulted William Penderel, who did not
seek to dissuade him from the step, visited the oak, and remained for a
long time contemplating it with mingled gratitude and admiration. How
majestic looked the tree on that morning! Before quitting it Charles
spread his arms round its trunk in a loving embrace.
On returning to the garden, Charles proceeded to the arbour, and sat
down within it. So pleasant was the spot, that for a short time he
surrendered himself to the enjoyment of the moment, and sank into a
calm reverie, from which he was rather rudely disturbed by the sound
of approaching footsteps, and looking out he saw Father Huddlestone,
accompanied by Careless. Greeting the priest with much respect, he met
him at the top of the mount, and led him into the arbour, graciously
praying him to be seated.
"All good saints bless your majesty!" exclaimed the priest, "and guard
you from your enemies. I have just come from Moseley Hall, and am the
bearer of a message to your majesty from Lord Wilmot. His lordship
is in great anxiety on your majesty's account--very alarming reports
having reached him, which I am glad to find are unfounded, and he
implores you to come on to Moseley Hall, where he feels sure you will
be safe. To his lordship's entreaties I would add those of my patron,
Mr. Whitgreave, who places his house at your disposal, and has means,
almost better than any other person, of offering you a secure asylum
at this dangerous juncture. To these entreaties, my gracious liege,"
continued the good priest, earnestly, "I will add my own. Do not remain
here too long. Your enemies have been temporarily baffled in their
quest, but I fear they will renew it, since their obstinacy is great."
The king listened attentively to what was said to him.
"I intended to remain here for a few days, holy father, till the danger
should be blown over," he said. "But I perceive there is too much risk
in doing so. Loth, therefore, as I am to leave Boscobel, I will come to
Moseley Hall to-night."
"Your majesty has determined well," said Father Huddlestone. "But I
entreat you to take a sufficient guard with you. The forest is full of
rebel troopers. No doubt the trusty Penderels will guard you."
"I can count upon them," replied Charles.
"I will speak with William Penderel myself, before I depart," said the
priest.
"Do you depart soon, father?"
"Almost immediately, sire. I return by Chillington."
"Then come in at once and take some refreshment."
And rising as he spoke, the king led the way to the house.
As the king and Father Huddlestone walked on, they perceived Careless
and the page leaning from an open lattice window to the room on the
ground floor. Thus seen they formed a very pretty picture. On his
majesty's approach they would have drawn back, but he marched up to the
window to speak to them.
"A change has taken place in my plans," he said. "Father Huddlestone is
returning immediately to Moseley Hall. You must both go with him."
"And leave you here, sire?" cried Careless. "I do not like the
arrangement at all. But, of course, I must obey your majesty's orders."
"If all goes well, I shall rejoin you to-morrow at Moseley," said the
king. "I shall travel at night, and with a sufficient escort."
"But why am I not to form one of your majesty's escort?" asked Careless.
"Because you are wanted elsewhere," replied Charles, smiling.
"Well, since it must be, it must," said Careless. "But your majesty may
wish me at your side."
While Charles was thus conversing, the good priest entered the house,
and finding Joan and her husband in the hall, paused for a moment at
the open door, and bestowed a benediction upon them. They received him
with the greatest respect. William placed a chair for him, and Joan
quickly brought him some refreshment. While this was going on, the good
father briefly explained the purport of his message to the king, and
though the faithful pair were grieved to lose their important charge,
they raised no objection.
At this juncture Charles came in.
"My good friends," he said, "I perceive from your countenances that
Father Huddlestone has told you I must leave you. Never shall I forget
your kindness to me, and I desire to express my gratitude in the good
father's presence."
"Your feelings do you honour, my liege," said Father Huddlestone,
rising. "Your majesty may rest assured that you have not more devoted
subjects than the Penderels. As to Dame Joan----"
"Her price is above rubies," interrupted the king. "I know it. Be
seated, I pray, your reverence, and heed not my presence. I have more
hard work for you, William, and for your trusty brothers. To-night you
must all escort me to Moseley Hall."
"We will all be ready, my liege, and shall account it no hardship,"
replied William. "We will take with us our brother-in-law, Francis
Yates. We can trust him as we can trust ourselves."
"The husband of the good woman who visited me in Spring Coppice?"
observed Charles.
"The same, sire."
"Then he is well mated," said the king.
"You must all go armed, William," remarked Father Huddlestone,
gravely--"armed, and prepared to resist to the death. I warn you there
is danger."
"We will go fully prepared for any event," rejoined William Penderel,
resolutely. "We cannot do better than die for the king."
"That is a sentiment I have always inculcated," said the father.
"And I have not forgotten it, your reverence." Then turning to the
king, he added, "I will bid Humphrey bring his horse for your majesty.
Moseley Hall is a long way off, and your majesty looks somewhat
footsore."
"Oddsfish! I could not walk half a dozen miles without falling dead
lame," cried Charles. "By all means let me have Humphrey's nag."
Soon afterwards, Careless and the page, neither of whom had any
preparations to make, came in to bid adieu to Joan and her worthy
spouse; and Father Huddlestone, declaring he was sufficiently rested
and refreshed, rose to depart.
Before bidding adieu to Careless, the king gave him some instructions
in private, saying, as he left him at the garden gate,
"If we do not meet again, you will know what to do."
Charles did not wait for any reply, but, as if afraid of betraying the
emotion he felt, walked quickly towards the arbour. On gaining the
summit of the mount, he looked round and saw that Father Huddlestone
and his two companions were gazing anxiously at him from the skirts of
the wood. Waving his hand to them, he entered the arbour, and was for
some time lost in painful reflection.
End of Book the Third.
Book the Fourth.
MOSELEY OLD HALL.
CHAPTER I.
CHILLINGTON HOUSE.
Father Huddlestone being as well acquainted with the paths through the
forest as the Penderels themselves, took his companions through the
thickest part of it, where they were not likely to encounter a patrol
of the enemy, and brought them safely to Chillington Park.
They were now at the lower end of the long and beautiful avenue leading
to the ancient mansion, but before proceeding further, the priest
deemed it advisable to consult the old gate-keeper, who dwelt in the
lodge adjoining the entrance of the park.
Like all the old retainers of the Giffards, John Eccleshall, the
gate-keeper, was a Roman Catholic, and consequently devoted to Father
Huddlestone. He informed the priest that there was no danger whatever
in his entering the park, since Colonel James, with the whole of his
troopers, had evacuated the hall.
"Heaven be thanked the rogues are gone to Brewood!" said the old man.
"Not one is left behind. I counted them as they passed through the
gate."
While Father Huddlestone was talking with the gate-keeper, Jasper's
curiosity was excited by an old wooden cross standing in a small green
inclosure near the lodge, and in answer to his inquiries as to why it
had been placed there, the priest related the following legend:
"That is called Giffard's Cross," said Father Huddlestone, "and it was
set up in old times by Sir John Giffard. Sir John, who was excessively
fond of the chase, kept a collection of wild beasts, and amongst them
a very beautiful, but very fierce panther, which he valued more than
all the rest. One day, it chanced that this savage animal slipped
out of its cage, and escaped into the park. Made aware of what had
happened by the cries of his terrified household, Sir John snatched up
an arbalist, and rushed out into the park, accompanied by his eldest
son. He easily ascertained the direction taken by the panther, for the
beast had been seen to skirt the avenue. At that time there were no
gates here, and the limits of the park extended far beyond the place
where we are now standing. Sir John and his son ran as swiftly as they
could, and were still speeding on, when they beheld a young woman and
a child coming along the road. At the same moment, they discovered the
panther couched amid the fern, evidently waiting for his prey. Sir John
and his son had halted, and though the distance was almost too great,
the old knight prepared to launch a bolt at the beast. But while he was
adjusting his cross-bow, his son remarked that he was out of breath,
and fearing he might miss his aim from this cause, called out to him
in French, '_Prenez haleine, tirez fort._' By this time the poor young
woman had perceived her peril, and uttering a loud shriek, clasped her
child to her breast, and essayed to fly. It may be by the interposition
of holy Hubert," continued the priest, reverently, "whose aid Sir John
invoked, that she was saved. Just as the panther was about to spring,
the bolt flew, and was lodged in the animal's brain. On the spot where
the mortally-wounded beast rolled on the ground, this memorial was
placed. Thenceforward, also, Sir John Giffard adopted as his motto the
words of counsel addressed to him by his son."
Having concluded his legend, with which Jasper was much edified, the
good priest bestowed his benediction on the old gate-keeper, and the
party entered the park, and proceeded along the avenue.
Viewed at a distance, Chillington House, with its grand façade, its
immense oriel windows, its gables, turrets, and noble entrance porch,
looked as imposing as ever, but on a nearer approach, the damage done
to the mansion could be perfectly distinguished. Built by Sir John
Giffard in the early part of the reign of Henry VIII., on the site
of a still older edifice, Chillington House had long been kept up
in magnificent style by its owners. But the Giffards were gone now,
and their ancient residence being in the hands of the Parliamentary
commissioners, was allowed to go to ruin. Now and then it afforded
quarters to a detachment of soldiers, who took possession of it,
without authority, and did an infinitude of mischief.
The old mansion was approached by an extremely picturesque avenue of
mingled oaks and hollies, and it was along this beautiful avenue, in
1576, that Queen Elizabeth rode, attended by a splendid cortége, when
she visited John Giffard, grandson of the builder of the mansion.
At that time, the park, which was of vast extent, was well stocked
with deer, for the old lords of Chillington were great hunters. At the
rear of the mansion the park extended to Codsall, and in this part
there were several large pools, of which a more particular description
will be given hereafter. At a subsequent period these pools were
joined together, and now form a large and beautiful lake. Attached to
the house were stables that might have befitted a palace, and these
were spared by the troopers, who spared nothing else about the place,
because they found them convenient.
Placed on a rising ground, Chillington House not only looked down the
long avenue we have described, but commanded an extensive prospect over
a beautifully wooded country. Familiar with this lovely view, Careless
turned round for a few minutes to gaze at it, but it was with very
different feelings that he surveyed the ancient mansion. How changed
was it since he beheld it last! As his eye ran over the front of the
once proud structure, he noted the injuries it had sustained--windows
shattered--architectural ornaments mutilated, or thrown down--the
smooth lawns trampled over--the terrace grass-grown. Yawning wide, the
great entrance door revealed the havoc that had taken place within.
Careless and the priest exchanged mournful glances as they walked
towards the house, but not a word passed between them. The great
hall which they entered was a complete wreck--its beautifully carved
oak screen having been ruthlessly destroyed. The sculptured armorial
bearings on the grand oak staircase were likewise irreparably injured.
Nothing that hatchet could mutilate was spared.
"Have you seen enough?" inquired the priest.
"No," replied Careless, "I would fain see what these vindictive
miscreants can do when they are under no restraint. Come with me,
father. Wait for us here, Jasper."
Accompanied by Father Huddlestone he then ascended the great oak
staircase, and they proceeded to examine the long gallery and the
numerous apartments connected with it, all of which were marked by the
hand of the ruthless destroyer.
"What would Peter Giffard say if he could behold his house?" remarked
Careless. "It would break his stout heart--if, indeed, his heart is not
already broken."
"He bears his misfortunes bravely," said Father Huddlestone. "But the
king's defeat at Worcester will be a greater blow to him than the worst
of his own losses."
"Ah! if we Royalists had but won that battle, father," cried Careless;
"we should soon have enjoyed our own again! But we must now wait for
many a long day."
"I fear so, my son," replied the priest. "But I trust in the justice of
Heaven!"
Meanwhile Jasper, tired by his walk, had sought a seat among the broken
furniture scattered about. Discovering an old arm-chair, he threw
himself into it and fell asleep almost immediately.
Having completed their survey of the upper rooms, Careless and the
priest were about to descend, but while passing through the gallery
they chanced to look out of a window, and, to their infinite dismay,
perceived a small party of dragoons, with an officer at their head,
riding quickly towards the house.
There was time enough to save themselves by a hasty retreat, but not a
moment to lose. Careless rushed to the head of the great staircase, and
called out to Jasper that the enemy was at hand, bidding him fly to the
back of the house, and make his way out.
Feeling certain that the page heard him, and would instantly attend to
the warning, he gave himself no further concern, but followed Father
Huddlestone down a back staircase. Luckily, there was nothing to
prevent their egress--the doors being all unfastened--and they were
soon in the court-yard.
Here they waited for a few moments for Jasper, expecting he would join
them, but he came not. Careless now became seriously alarmed, and
his uneasiness was increased by some sounds that seemed to announce
the arrival of the troopers. Despite Father Huddlestone's entreaties
he re-entered the house, but presently came back, and with a look of
anguish exclaimed:
"Too late! The troopers have already entered--he must be captured!"
"Nay, then, we must save ourselves if we can," cried Father
Huddlestone. "Let us make for the wood."
They had scarcely quitted the court-yard when three or four troopers
rode into it.
CHAPTER II.
HOW THE KING WAS WELL-NIGH CAPTURED BY MADMANNAH.
Seated in the arbour, to which he had retired on the departure of
Father Huddlestone and his companions, Charles endeavoured to review
his position calmly.
His great desire had been to remain at Boscobel till the vigilance
of his enemies should relax, and an opportunity of reaching the
coast might occur to him, but after Father Huddlestone's earnest
representations of the great risk he would run, he felt the necessity
of seeking another hiding-place, and where could a more secure retreat
be found than was offered by Moseley Old Hall? Mr. Whitgreave, the
owner of the mansion, belonged to the old religion, and the unfortunate
monarch had learnt from recent experience that those who had proved
most faithful to him in his hour of peril were Roman Catholics.
Besides, Father Huddlestone had given him positive assurance of the
fidelity of Mr. Whitgreave's household. There was no risk, therefore,
of betrayal. The great danger lay in the journey. If he could only
reach Moseley Old Hall in safety all would be well.
Still, he felt reluctant to quit Boscobel. The Penderels had completely
won his regard. Their devotion had impressed him deeply, and he well
knew that men so honest and trusty, and possessed of such good sound
sense, were rarely to be met with. Having been thrown so much into
their company--especially into that of Trusty Dick--he knew them more
intimately than he had ever done persons in their humble station, and
he formed a very high and perfectly just opinion of their worth.
Naturally, the uppermost thought in his mind was how to reach the
coast, and procure a vessel to convey him to France, and he was
considering how he could best accomplish his object, when the sound of
quick footsteps on the gravel-walk leading to the mount caught his ear.
He immediately looked forth, and saw it was Trusty Dick, who had come
to warn him.
"Your majesty must not stay here any longer," said the faithful fellow.
"The enemy is at hand."
On hearing this Charles hurried to the house, where he found William
Penderel and his wife in great consternation, for they had just learnt
from Dick that Colonel James, being dissatisfied with the result of the
first investigation, was about to make another search of the house, and
was coming thither with his troopers.
"I will again take refuge in the oak," cried Charles. "I shall be safe
amid its branches."
"There is not time to reach the tree," said Dick, who could not conceal
his uneasiness. "Besides, that rascally trooper whom your majesty made
a prisoner is with them."
"You must hide in the secret closet, my liege, or in the priest's
hole," said Joan.
"There are other hiding-places," added William Penderel, "but none so
secure as the secret closet in the chimney. Go thither at once, sire, I
entreat you. There is not a moment to lose."
"I must not be found here," cried Trusty Dick, "my presence would
excite suspicion. But I shall not be far off."
Snatching up a sword that had been left for him by Careless, Charles
hurried up-stairs, and opened the door of the secret closet. While
he was thus employed, he fancied he heard some one in the adjoining
chamber, and at once flew to the trap-door, and let himself down into
the lower chamber. In his haste, he had left the sword lying on the
floor of the bedroom, and had upset a fauteuil--and, worst of all, he
had left the door of the secret closet open--but he felt sure Joan
would quickly follow and put all right.
[Illustration: CHARLES HIDING IN THE SECRET CLOSET AT BOSCOBEL HOUSE.]
And so she would have done, had she not been prevented. How great was
her terror, on entering the bedchamber, to see a trooper standing
there, amid all these evidences of the king's hasty retreat.
The trooper she beheld was Madmannah. He had got into the house through
an open window, and had made his way privily up-stairs. Placing his
pike at her breast, he ordered her instantly to quit the room, and she
did not dare to disobey.
Casting an anxious glance at the accusing sword, but still hoping the
trap-door might not be discovered, Joan went down to the hall, where
another scene of terror awaited her.
Colonel James was interrogating her husband, who was standing before
the stern Republican leader with a trooper on either side of him. Ezra,
who was stationed at the foot of the staircase, allowed her to enter
the hall, but bade her hold her tongue. Colonel James was seated near
the table. His aspect was unusually severe, but William Penderel did
not quail before his menacing looks. The forester's gigantic figure
dwarfed the troopers who stood on either side of him.
"I know thou art a stubborn knave," said Colonel James; "but I will
wrest the truth from thee. I am certain that Charles Stuart is
concealed within this house, and I mean not to depart without him. But
I will not waste time in the search. Thy life is already forfeited for
thy treasonable conduct, and I should be justified in putting thee
to death; but I will spare thee, if, without more ado, the malignant
prince be delivered up to me. Nay, more, I will reward thee. Dost hear
me, sirrah?" he continued, finding that his words produced no visible
impression upon the prisoner. "I am not one to be trifled with, as thou
wilt find."
As he spoke, he arose, strode towards the prisoner, and drawing a
pistol from his belt, placed it at Penderel's head.
"Speak the truth, or thou art a dead man," he said. "Where is the
prince?"
This was too much for Joan. She could not stand by and see her husband
shot. Rushing forward, she besought the fierce Republican leader to
spare him.
"A word from thee will save his life," said Colonel James, lowering the
pistol and turning towards her.
"Woman, I forbid you to speak," said William Penderel, sternly.
"Shoot me if you will," cried Joan to the Republican leader, "I have
nothing to declare. Charles Stuart is not here."
"That is false," exclaimed Colonel James. "Deliver him to me, or ye
shall both die. Your treasonable practices are known to me. I am aware
that the fugitive prince and one of his attendants were concealed in an
oak hard by this house. Where are they? They cannot have escaped."
"Wherefore not?" rejoined William Penderel. "If, as you assert, they
were hidden in an oak, they could not be here. Search the house, and if
you find him you seek, then put us to death."
Finding he could not intimidate the resolute forester, Colonel James
left him in charge of a couple of troopers, with orders to shoot him
if he attempted to escape, and commanded Joan to conduct him over the
house.
"If Charles Stuart be found hidden within the house, thou and thy
husband shall assuredly die," he said. "But if it be as thou affirmest,
I will spare you both."
"Where will you begin the search?" inquired Joan.
"I will leave no room unvisited," replied Colonel James. "But I will
first examine the bedchambers."
Joan's heart quaked as the stern officer marched up-stairs and
proceeded to the principal bedroom. Colonel James was astonished by
finding Madmannah standing in the midst of the room, leaning on his
pike, with the door of the secret closet wide open.
"Hast thou found the malignant prince?" he exclaimed.
"Yea, verily, colonel, I have discovered his hiding-place, as you
perceive," replied Madmannah. "There is the stool on which he somewhile
sat--there is the cup from which he drank--above all, there is his
sword. I have waited for you to make further search, that you may have
the credit of the capture. But I claim the reward."
"Thou shalt have it," replied Colonel James, stepping into the closet.
He saw at a glance that it was empty, but feeling sure there must be
some secret recess, he struck the panels on either side with the pommel
of his sword, but discovering nothing, he at last turned to Joan, who
was standing by watching his proceedings with ill-disguised anxiety,
and remarked:
"There must be a hiding-place here. Disclose it at once, or I will
cause my men to break down the panels."
Joan obeyed, drew back the sliding door, and Colonel James instantly
sprang through the aperture into the inner room.
Finding no one within it, he vented his disappointment in an angry
exclamation.
"Where is the malignant prince, woman?" he demanded, fiercely.
"Gone," she replied. "That is all I will tell you."
"Thou art deceiving me, woman," he exclaimed.
But finding threats useless, he proceeded to make a very careful
investigation of the little room in which they stood. Had he searched
the outer closet with equal strictness he must infallibly have
discovered the trap-door.
Dreadfully frightened, Joan had great difficulty in supporting herself,
and it was an inexpressible relief to her when Colonel James strode
back into the bedchamber.
"'Tis plain the malignant prince is not here, Madmannah," he said to
the trooper, who seemed greatly disappointed by the result of the
search.
"I could have sworn I heard him," said Madmannah. "But there are other
hiding-places in the house. Answer truthfully, on your life, woman," he
added to Joan.
"I will conceal nothing," she replied, anxious to get them away. "There
is a priest's hole in the garret."
"A priest's hole!" exclaimed Colonel James. "Show it to me."
Joan took them to the garret, raised the trap-door, and displayed the
cavity.
After peering into the hole, Colonel James ordered Madmannah, who had
followed him, to descend and examine it. Not without difficulty did
the trooper, who was rather stout, obey his leader's injunction. But
once in the hole, he found it impossible to get out, and had to take
off his breast-plate before he could be extricated from his unpleasant
position. He had found nothing, for the pallet on which Careless slept
had been removed.
Enraged at his ill-success, Colonel James then went down-stairs,
and searched the parlour, the windows of which have been described
as looking into the garden. His investigations were rewarded by the
discovery of the little altar in the oratory, and offended by the sight
of it, he caused it to be destroyed.
After this, he again tried the effect of menaces upon William Penderel,
but found the stout forester as stubborn as ever. Nothing could be
extorted from him.
At last, after a long and fruitless search, the baffled Republican
leader took his departure, and the faithful pair, who had passed an
hour of the greatest anxiety, congratulated each other on their escape.
Not till she was quite satisfied that the troopers were gone did Joan
venture to release the king from his confinement. He had heard the
footsteps of Colonel James in the closet overhead, and thought that the
trap-door must be discovered. Had he not feared that a guard must be
stationed outside, he would have attempted to escape into the forest.
Now that the danger was passed he laughed at it. But though he made
light of his own fears, he did not underrate the risk incurred on his
account by stout-hearted William Penderel and his devoted wife.
Later on, Trusty Dick made his appearance. It appeared that the
faithful fellow had resolved, if the king had been captured by Colonel
James, to rescue him or perish in the attempt; and with this view
he had hastily assembled his brothers--John, Humphrey, and George,
together with his brother-in-law, Francis Yates.
Armed with pikes and bills, they had laid in wait for the troopers,
near the house, but as the men came forth without their prey, and had
evidently failed in their design, the devoted little band separated,
and each man hurried back to his abode--George to White Ladies, John
to his little farm, Humphrey to the mill, and Francis Yates to his
cottage--rejoicing that their services had not been required.
"But before parting," said Dick, in conclusion, "we all agreed to meet
here to-night to escort your majesty to Moseley Old Hall."
From this simple statement, Charles comprehended how well he was
guarded over by these brave and loyal brothers.
CHAPTER III.
HOW THE KING RODE THE MILLER'S HORSE; AND HOW HE WAS ESCORTED DURING
HIS RIDE.
As it was not likely, after the strict search that had just taken
place, that another visit would be paid to Boscobel by the troopers,
Charles felt quite easy, and passed the remainder of the day in
tranquil meditation.
While sitting by himself in the oak parlour, he revolved his plans for
the future, should he be happily restored to his kingdom, and formed
many noble resolutions which would have greatly elevated his character
as a sovereign if they had been carried out.
At this period of his career Charles was unspoiled, and if his higher
qualities had been called into play, and his unquestionable military
genius fully developed, he might have proved himself worthy of his
grandsire, on his mother's side, the great Henry the Fourth of France.
Above all, his heart was uncorrupted and his kindly disposition had not
hardened into selfishness. His natural gaiety never deserted him, and
his constitutional indifference to danger sustained him under the most
trying circumstances. Possible perils were never allowed to weigh upon
his mind, and in thus acting he showed true philosophy. His unconcern
astonished all who came near him, and Joan and her husband could not
sufficiently admire his liveliness of manner. Whether he was quite so
free from anxiety as he appeared may be questioned, but at any rate he
wore a very pleasant mask.
To such a point did he carry his rashness, that at the risk of being
seen by an enemy on the watch, he strolled forth into the garden, and
sat for some time in the little arbour.
As soon as it grew dusk, and they could steal through the forest
unperceived, the king's promised escort began to appear; each stout
fellow being armed with pike or bill, as he had been in the morning,
when the brave little band had resolved to effect Charles's rescue.
First to arrive was James Yates, who had married a sister of the
Penderels. The king had seen him before, as he had served under Charles
Giffard, at Worcester, and had guided the royal fugitive to White
Ladies. James Yates was stoutly made, and had a soldier-like bearing,
but he was not so largely proportioned as his brothers-in-law. However,
he was as loyal as they were, and just as ready to shed his blood in
the good cause. We grieve to say that he suffered for his loyalty,
being executed at a subsequent date at Chester. Charles was very glad
to see him, and possibly the gracious words then addressed to him by
the king may have cheered the brave fellow's latest moments.
Ere long the others arrived, and now that they were all assembled,
armed and accoutred in the best way they could, Charles thought he had
never seen a finer set of men.
"With such a body-guard I shall not fear the enemy," he said.
"Your majesty shall not be taken, while we can defend you," they cried
with one voice.
"I hope you have brought your horse for me, Humphrey?" said the king.
"Ay, sire," replied the sturdy miller. "Robin is already in the barn."
"'Tis well!" cried Charles. "Now sit down to supper, and mind me not."
The king had already supped, and supped very heartily, for his
misfortunes had not taken away his appetite, but his majesty ate little
in comparison with those who followed him.
It was wonderful to see how quickly the heaped up trenchers were
cleared, and how soon the tall tankard of ale was emptied. But the
trenchers were filled again, and so was the tall tankard, though only
to be emptied once more. Luckily, there was enough and to spare, for
Joan knew the powers of her guests, and had provided accordingly.
When the plain but plentiful repast was ended, and the horn cups were
filled for the last time, the stalwart brethren arose, and drank the
king's health and confusion to his enemies; after which, William
Penderel asked pardon for the freedom they had taken, and declared the
impulse was uncontrollable, adding that whenever it pleased his majesty
to set forth they were ready to attend him.
Charles sighed, for he was unwilling to depart.
However, there was no help. So he took leave of Dame Joan, expressing
his deep sense of the great services she and her husband had rendered
him, and promising to reward them adequately, if he should ever be able
to do so.
"I have every belief that a time will come, when I shall be able
to prove my gratitude to you, my good dame, and to your worthy
husband--indeed, to all my good friends and servants whom I see around
me, and then be sure that I will not forget you, one and all. Trust to
my royal word."
"We want no reward, my liege," said William Penderel. "What we have
done has been from pure devotion to your majesty, and from no sordid
motive."
"That is quite true," cried the others, "and we entreat your majesty to
believe what William says."
"I firmly believe it," said the king. "Loyal and disinterested you must
be, or you would never serve a fugitive king, who can reward you only
with promises. But I shall not forget your services--yours, especially,
my good dame. And now adieu," he added, taking Joan's hand, and
preventing her from making the profound obeisance she meditated. "We
shall meet again in happier days."
So saying, he quitted the house by the back door, followed by William
Penderel and his sturdy brothers and brother-in-law.
The miller's horse--a short, well set, strong animal, which in these
days would be described as a stout cob--was brought out of the barn by
his master, who held the bridle while the king mounted.
Meantime, Joan had come forth with a lantern, and its light showed
a curious scene--all the stalwart brothers, armed with their bills
and pikes, grouped around the king, who was now in the saddle--while
William Penderel was arranging the order of march.
With the king's approval, it was settled that Humphrey and John
should form the advanced guard, while the rear should be brought up
by George Penderel and Francis Yates. William and Trusty Dick were to
march on either side of his majesty, who was well pleased to have their
companionship, as they were his favourites. Till this moment Charles
had not formed an exact notion of William Penderel's height, and he was
surprised to find that the gigantic forester stood on a level with him,
though he himself was seated on the mill-horse.
Before the little band got into the order of march, William Penderel
said to his brothers, in deep impressive accents which vibrated through
the king's breast, and moved him greatly:
"His majesty needs no assurance of our fidelity. Nevertheless, since
he has deigned to choose us as his guards, let us swear by all we hold
sacred to defend him to the last, and against all odds."
"We swear it," cried the others. "We will die before harm shall befal
him."
Charles thanked them earnestly for their zeal, adding that he well knew
their oath would be kept.
The brave little band then quitted the yard in the order prescribed.
Proud of the trust reposed in them, the loyal brothers almost hoped
that their fidelity might be proved. Woe to any rebel patrol that might
attempt to stop them! In addition to their wood-bills, William and
Trusty Dick had each a pistol--taken from Madmannah. But it was not in
their weapons, but in their stout hearts, and strong thews and sinews,
that Charles had the greatest reliance. Perhaps, no monarch ever had
such an escort as he now possessed in those hardy foresters.
Just as Charles rode out of the yard with a guard on either side,
he saw Dame Joan standing at the door with the lantern in her hand,
straining her eyes through the gloom, and shouted an adieu to her. This
was the last he beheld of the faithful creature.
After passing some outbuildings, the party came in front of the house,
which presented a long irregular outline. The night was not dark, for
the moon, then in its first quarter, had just risen, and its beams
illumined the gables and black and white chequer-work of the old
hunting-lodge.
Not without emotion did Charles contemplate the huge fantastic
chimney-stack, in the recesses of which he had been hidden; while the
little arbour, which next caught his eye, excited a different kind
of interest. Mentally he bade farewell to a spot which he felt would
always have interest for him. Yet strange to say, though he often spoke
of Boscobel in after times, he never revisited the house.
"Take me past the oak," he said to Trusty Dick. "I desire to see the
tree once more."
Word to this effect was given to those in advance, but they had
anticipated his majesty's wishes, and intended to take him past the
royal oak.
Shortly afterwards the party halted beside the noble tree. How
beautiful it looked at that hour! its summit silvered by the moonlight,
while a few beams found their way through openings in the branches, and
fell upon the massive stem. Charles was enchanted.
"Truly that is a royal tree!" he thought. "How majestic it looks among
the oaks that surround it, though they are all noble trees, and how it
lords it over them--like a king among his peers!" He then added aloud
to Trusty Dick, "But for you, my good friend, I should not have made
acquaintance with this grand old tree, and I should therefore have lost
some of the happiest moments of my life, for though in great jeopardy,
I was never happier than during my day's sojourn in the oak; and if
I am spared I shall ever look back to the time with satisfaction.
Farewell, old tree!" he added. "May I spend another happy day amid thy
friendly boughs!"
He then moved on, and the party took their way through a thicket, where
the moon's radiance being intercepted by the branches overhead, it was
so dark that they could not see many yards before them, and they had to
proceed with great caution--the advanced guard halting ever and anon.
But nothing occurred to cause them alarm.
At length they reached an opening in the wood, and a broad moonlit
glade lay before them, but they hesitated to cross it, and kept among
the trees; and the prudence of the step was shown a few minutes
afterwards, when a patrol, whom they must infallibly have encountered
had they gone straight on, appeared on the lawn.
The sight of the enemy aroused the choler of the loyal brothers, and
Humphrey expressed a strong desire to give the knaves a drubbing, but,
of course, he was not allowed to gratify his inclination.
There were no witnesses of the passage of the king and his companions
through the forest--but had there been, the sight would have been worth
viewing. Those dark gigantic figures indistinctly seen among the trees
looked strange and mysterious. And when the party issued forth into
some more open spot not overhung by boughs, so that the moonlight fell
upon them and cast their black shadows on the ground, they looked still
more unearthly. Despite the peril to which he was exposed, and the many
difficulties and hindrances he had to undergo, the king enjoyed the
ride. He would have enjoyed it still more if the horse he bestrode had
been less rough of motion. But his majesty's seat in the saddle was far
from easy.
At last he lost all patience, and exclaimed:
"Plague take thy horse, Humphrey! Never before was I so jolted."
But his good humour was instantly restored by the miller's ready
response.
"Generally, Robin goes well enough," said Humphrey. "But your majesty
must consider that he has now got the weight of three kingdoms on his
back."
Charles laughed, and made no further complaint.
CHAPTER IV.
WHERE THE KING FOUND JASPER.
Not long afterwards, they reached Chillington Park, but they did not
enter it as Father Huddlestone and his companions had done by the
avenue gate, but at the back of the hall where the wood was thickest.
This part of the park was overrun with bushes, and it was here, in
Rock's Coppice, as it was called, that the dry pit was situated to
which Madmannah had been brought. They forced their way, not without
some difficulty, through this broad barrier of brushwood, and then a
most charming scene burst upon them for which the king was not at all
prepared--having heard no description of it.
At the bottom of a long and deep valley, which constituted the most
beautiful feature of the park, were several large pools. In later times
these pools have been thrown together so as to form an extensive lake,
which has been further embellished with a bridge, boat-houses, and
fishing-houses; but at the period of our history the valley was left
in its wild natural state, and had an air of seclusion which gave it a
charm almost as great as that possessed by the present ornamental lake.
The high banks on either side were clothed with magnificent timber, and
many trees grew so near the pools as to overshadow them.
Charles first beheld this exquisite scene from an elevation commanding
the whole length of the valley, and the numerous sheets of water
fringed by trees and glittering in the moonlight produced a truly
magical effect, that filled him with rapture.
He halted for a short time to gaze at it, and while his eye wandered
over the pool immediately beneath him he fancied he descried a boat
stealing along under the shadow of the trees on the further side of
the pool, and pointed out the object to Trusty Dick, who was standing
beside him.
"Your majesty is right," said Dick. "'Tis the fishing-boat belonging
to the pool. I know it well--having often used it. There is only one
person in it now--and that person, unless I am very much mistaken, is
no other than the page Jasper. How say'st thou, William?" he added,
appealing to his elder brother.
"I am of the same opinion," replied William. "I believe it to be
Jasper."
"Oddsfish! this is strange!" exclaimed the king; "give him a signal
that we are here."
Upon this, Trusty Dick descended the bank, and approaching the margin
of the pool, gave a loud whistle.
The signal did not require to be repeated. In another moment the boat
was seen to cross the pool, and now that the bright moonlight fell upon
it there could be no doubt that its occupant was Jasper.
A few strokes of the oar brought the page to the spot where Trusty
Dick was standing, and with very little delay they mounted the bank
together, and came to the king.
"How is it that I find you here?" cried Charles. "Are you alone?"
"Quite alone, sire," replied Jasper. "Major Careless and Father
Huddlestone have left me. But your majesty shall hear what has
happened. Having been told that Colonel James and his troopers had left
Chillington House, we were foolish enough to go thither, and found
it in a terrible state, everything knocked to pieces by the rebel
soldiers. While Major Careless and the priest went up-stairs to see
what further damage had been done, I remained below, and being tired,
presently fell asleep on a bench in the hall.
"I was awakened by a great noise in front of the house, and your
majesty may conceive my fright when I found that a small detachment of
troops had just arrived. At this moment, I heard Major Careless call
me, and not knowing what to do ran up the great staircase, but could
find no one. Listening, I heard that the troopers had come in, so I
did not dare to go down, but hid myself in a closet, and did not quit
it for some time, when finding all quiet, I stole forth, and descended
by a back staircase. But this very nearly led to my capture, for some
of the troopers were in the kitchen. Fortunately they were eating and
drinking at the time, and did not perceive me, so I hastily retreated
and went up-stairs again as quietly as I could.
"After this narrow escape I did not dare to make another attempt at
flight, but wandered about among the deserted rooms during the rest
of the day. Though I was tired to death of my confinement, I was not
troubled by the troopers, for none of them came up-stairs, though I
could hear them moving about below.
"At length, to my great delight, it began to grow dark, and I hoped my
hour of deliverance was at hand. Taking every precaution, I once more
descended the back staircase, and approached the kitchen. No one was
there. But the troopers had only just left, for I heard them ride out
of the court-yard. On the table were the remains of their repast, and
your majesty will not wonder that I picked up all the fragments I could
find when you consider that I had eaten nothing since I left Boscobel
in the morning."
"I fear you made a very scanty meal," said Charles, compassionately.
"No, indeed, my liege, I got quite enough, and having satisfied my
appetite, I quitted the house at the back, and very soon gained the
park. Being totally unacquainted with the place I knew not which way
to shape my course, and was afraid of losing myself, but I had heard
Father Huddlestone say that your majesty and your escort would be sure
to pass through this part of the park, so I determined to look out for
you.
"When I left Chillington House it was almost dark, but the moon had
now risen, and revealed all the beauties of the scene. I wandered on
insensibly till I came to this valley, when my further progress was
checked by the pool, and I should have turned back had I not discovered
a boat moored to the bank. I immediately availed myself of this mode
of crossing, but I had only just got into the boat and begun to use
the oars, when I heard sounds on the opposite bank that convinced me
some persons were there. I hoped it might be your majesty and your
attendants, but not feeling quite sure, I thought it best to keep in
the shade lest I might be caught in a trap. Your majesty knows the
rest, and I have only to beg pardon for my long and tedious narration."
"You have had adventures enough to-day to last you your life," laughed
Charles. "But we must not stop here longer. Get up behind me. My horse
is somewhat rough, but he is strong enough to carry double."
"He has carried honest Humphrey and Mistress Jane Lane, so I think he
will be able to carry me," replied Jasper.
And assisted by Trusty Dick, he sprang up behind the king. Robin's
broad back afforded a very comfortable seat, and the page held on
securely by the king's girdle.
Once more in motion, the little band, which had now got a slight
addition to its numbers, took its way through the woods that hemmed in
the long valley. Frequent glimpses were caught of the shining pools as
they passed along, and so beautiful was this part of the park, that it
was not without regret that Charles quitted it.
The park being inclosed by high pales, they had to make for a gate, and
the nearest place of exit being on the Codsall side, they proceeded in
that direction, and soon issued forth on a wide heath, which spread out
for several miles.
The district that now lay before them was rendered exceedingly
picturesque by its undulating surface, and by the patches of gorse that
covered it. Here and there arose a knoll crowned with trees. On the
right the heath extended to the little village of Codsall, but on this
side, there was more wood. Before them, and reaching almost as far as
Pendeford, whither they were bound, was a broad uncultivated tract,
almost destitute of trees, yet not without a charm of its own.
Viewed, indeed, on a moonlight night like this, when its harsher
features were subdued, and its beauties heightened, the heath presented
a very lovely picture.
The night, however, was much too bright and fine for the king's escort,
who would have preferred a sky covered with heavy black clouds, and
not a star visible. They consulted together for a few moments in a low
tone, but did not communicate their fears to the king.
"Your attendants do not like crossing this moonlight heath, my liege,"
whispered the page.
"So I perceive," rejoined Charles. "Hark ye, my friends," he added to
his guard; "we shall be very much exposed methinks, on this heath. Is
there no other road?"
"None, my liege, without going too far about," rejoined William
Penderel. "Yon clump of trees is our mark," he added, pointing to a
distant eminence. "Those trees are not far from Moseley Old Hall.
Heaven grant we may get there in safety!"
They then set off across the heath, and the stalwart brothers marched
on as blithely as if they had felt no apprehension. Charles, too,
appeared unconcerned, though it may be doubted whether he was not more
uneasy than his guards; but the page gazed timorously around, expecting
every instant to behold a party of the enemy start up from the furze
bushes.
CHAPTER V.
BY WHAT DEVICE THE KING ESCAPED BEING CAPTURED BY COLONEL ASHENHURST.
If the king and his escort formed a very striking picture while
involved in the forest, the little band looked infinitely more
picturesque as they wended their way across the heath. They had begun
to dismiss their fears, when, on a sudden, the greatest consternation
was caused by the appearance of a detachment of troopers advancing
towards them.
The detachment, which seemed to consist of about a dozen men, with an
officer at their head, was about half a mile off, and had hitherto been
concealed from view by the inequality of the ground. It was now in full
sight, and it became clear from the accelerated pace of the enemy that
they themselves were perceived.
What was to be done? Retreat was out of the question, for they were
certain to be pursued and captured. They must prove their valour in the
defence of the king.
At this anxious moment the ready-witted page called out:
"Fighting is useless against such odds. We must resort to stratagem.
Listen to me, loyal foresters. For a short time you must become
rascally Roundheads. Pretend you have taken a couple of prisoners--the
prisoners to be represented by his majesty and myself. Furthermore,
give it out that we are both badly wounded. Do you understand?"
"Ay, we understand well enough," replied Trusty Dick, "and 'tis to be
hoped the rogues will believe we are brother rogues, and let us pass.
After all, we can but fight it out. But what says your majesty?"
"I like the plan," said the king. "With a little management I doubt not
we shall be able to impose upon the rascals. But we must lose no time
in preparation. This morning my nose bled profusely. I looked upon it
then as a bad omen, but now I regard the matter differently."
And as he spoke, he bound his bloodstained kerchief round his brows, so
as to give himself the appearance of a wounded man.
Jasper at the same time tied a kerchief round his left arm, and both
put on the appearance of great exhaustion--Charles allowing his head to
droop upon his breast.
"Now march on boldly, brothers," said the elder Penderel. "All will
depend upon our firmness."
As they went on, William and Trusty Dick kept close to the supposed
prisoners.
Presently the detachment came up.
Drawing up his men so as to bar the way, the officer called out in a
loud authoritative voice:
"Halt! and give an account of yourselves. Are you good and true men?"
"Good and true men, and friends of the Commonwealth," replied John
Penderel, boldly. "Heaven pardon me for the lie," he muttered.
"So far well," said the officer. "But who have you got with you on
horseback?"
"A wounded malignant and his servant, who is likewise wounded," replied
Humphrey. "The Cavalier is disguised in the garb of a forester, as you
see, but he could not 'scape us."
"Where are you conveying the prisoners?" demanded the officer.
"We are taking them to Codsall, and shall deliver them to Colonel
Ashenhurst."
"I am Colonel Ashenhurst," replied the officer.
Taken aback by the answer, the sturdy miller did not know what to say.
But William Penderel came to his relief.
"Shall we deliver the prisoners to you here, colonel?" he said, "or
shall we take them on to Codsall? Since we have come thus far, it
matters not if we go a little further. We have been to Chillington
House, but did not find Colonel James there."
"Colonel James hath just changed his quarters, and is gone to Brewood,"
replied Ashenhurst. "Is the chief prisoner badly hurt?"
"He is wounded in the head," rejoined William Penderel. "I do not think
he can live long."
"Nay, then, take him and his attendant to Codsall," said Colonel
Ashenhurst. "I have other business on hand, and do not desire to go
back. I trust to make an important capture before morn. A couple of my
men shall go with you, if you desire it, but I cannot very well spare
them."
"I thank your honour--but we do not require them," replied William
Penderel.
"You will find a physician at Codsall, who will attend to the wounded
malignant," continued Colonel Ashenhurst.
"I don't think any physician will do him much good," said Humphrey,
unable to resist the jest. "Your honour is scarcely likely to find
him--alive, I mean--on your return."
Colonel Ashenhurst did not hear the remark. He had no suspicion
whatever of the trick played him, and ordered his men to ride on,
gladdening the hearts of the stalwart brothers by his departure.
"I owe my preservation to you, Jasper," said Charles, as he removed the
kerchief from his brow.
"Ay, but for this stratagem your majesty might have been captured,"
remarked Trusty Dick. "I tremble to think of it."
"You have something more to do, Dick," said Jasper. "You must invent
some probable story to account for your not delivering the prisoners at
Codsall."
"True," cried Charles. "I fear you may suffer on my account."
"Think not of us," said Trusty Dick. "We must take our chance. 'Tis
sufficient that your majesty has escaped."
The road to Codsall lay on the right, but Charles and his companions
had no intention of taking it, even as a feint, for Colonel Ashenhurst
and his troop were already out of sight. Though anticipating no further
danger, they quickened their pace, and soon reached Long Birch.
The portion of the heath they now entered on was wilder than that which
they had previously traversed, but there was a tolerably good road
across it, and this eventually brought them to the banks of the little
river Penk.
About half a mile lower down, this stream turned a mill, and the party
now proceeded in that direction, it having been previously arranged
that the king should dismount at Pendeford Mill, as it was called, and
perform the rest of the journey on foot, and attended only by half his
escort, so that his arrival at Moseley Old Hall might not be discovered.
As he was here obliged to part with Jasper, Humphrey Penderel undertook
to find the page a secure place of refuge at the mill.
"I know Timothy Croft, the miller, and his wife to be good, honest
folks," said Humphrey. "The youth will be perfectly safe with them."
"I will tell Major Careless where he may find thee," said the king to
Jasper, "and no doubt thou wilt see him ere long. Thou hast done me
good service, and I shall not be unmindful of it. Adieu!"
He then gave him his hand, and the page pressed it devotedly to his
lips.
The three persons chosen to attend the king were William, Trusty Dick,
and John, and having bidden a kindly farewell to the others, his
majesty set off with his guard.
He had not gone far, however, when, turning his head, he saw those he
had left standing together, and looking very sad, whereupon he hurried
back, and said a few more gracious words to them. His majesty felt that
he could not sufficiently thank the brave men who had hazarded their
lives for him without fee or reward.
Moseley Old Hall was about two miles from Pendeford Mill, and the heath
having been left behind since they had crossed the Penk, the whole
aspect of the country had changed, and the road led through narrow
green lanes shaded with trees.
Now and then they passed a quiet homestead, surrounded by orchards, or
a cottage, and occasionally heard the barking of a dog, but with these
exceptions the whole region seemed buried in slumber.
At length, after a quick walk of rather more than half an hour, they
came in sight of an ancient mansion, somewhat resembling Boscobel, but
larger and loftier, and far more imposing in appearance.
CHAPTER VI.
HOW THE KING BADE FAREWELL TO THE PENDERELS; AND HOW HIS MAJESTY WAS
RECEIVED BY MR. THOMAS WHITGREAVE OF MOSELEY OLD HALL.
Moseley Old Hall, which we rejoice to say belongs to a direct
descendant of the zealous Roman Catholic gentleman who owned it at the
period of our story, is one of those charming and picturesque black and
white houses that date back to the middle of the sixteenth century,
when our old English architecture was in its perfection, and delights
the eye with its irregular frontage, its numerous gables, bay windows,
projections, and huge stacks of chimneys.
[Illustration: MOSELEY OLD HALL.]
Even now there is an air of seclusion about Moseley Old Hall, but at
the period of which we treat, it was almost surrounded by trees, and
though there were one or two habitations near it--much nearer than its
owner liked--it had a look of extreme privacy.
The house was large, and contained numerous apartments of all sizes.
Indeed, it contained some rooms that were never seen by all its
inmates, though it was whispered about among the servants that there
were closed up passages leading no one knew whither--perhaps to vaults,
secret chambers, and secret closets.
These rumours were not altogether unfounded. Like their friends and
neighbours the Giffards, the Whitgreaves had adhered firmly to the
old religion, and, like them, had found it necessary to contrive
hiding-places for priests and recusants. Many such existed at Moseley
Old Hall, and some are still extant.
Descended from an ancient Staffordshire family, who had dwelt at
Burton, Thomas Whitgreave, owner of Moseley Old Hall, in 1651, had
served during the early part of the Civil Wars under Captain Thomas
Giffard, and had distinguished himself for his bravery; but having
received a severe wound, from which he was some time in recovering,
he retired to his old family mansion, and took no further part in the
struggle. Still, his zeal for the cause of monarchy was ardent as ever,
and his sympathies being entirely for the young king, he was deeply
afflicted by the disastrous result of the Battle of Worcester.
Thomas Whitgreave was still young--at all events, he was not more than
thirty-five--tall, and handsome, with a grave but kindly expression of
countenance. At the time he received the king, he was unmarried, but
his mother, a remarkable old lady, resided with him. Mrs. Whitgreave
was as staunch a Royalist as her son, and daily invoked Heaven's
vengeance upon the regicide Cromwell.
Mr. Whitgreave kept up a good establishment, though not a large
retinue of servants. His domestic chaplain was Father Huddlestone,
and he behaved with the greatest consideration to the good priest,
not only assigning him rooms for study and devotion, but allowing him
to take a couple of pupils. Father Huddlestone was very useful in the
house, and, without being meddlesome, exercised a beneficial influence
over the family. Mrs. Whitgreave was a devotee, and as scrupulous in
the performance of her religious duties as if she had belonged to a
convent. A chaplain, therefore, was a necessity to her, and no one
could have better discharged the sacred office than Father Huddlestone.
Not only did the good priest improve the household by his councils, but
his society was extremely agreeable to the master of the house.
Such was the constitution of Moseley Old Hall at the time when the
fugitive king was received within it.
Among the Roman Catholic gentry of the period, all of whom were
Royalists, there was necessarily a good deal of private communication,
conducted chiefly through the medium of the priests. Thus secret
intelligence was conveyed to Father Huddlestone of the king's arrival
at White Ladies, and it was through Father Huddlestone that John
Penderel was enabled to secure a place of refuge for Lord Wilmot. It
was from the same quarter that the fugitive king's movements were first
made known to the good priest and his patron.
Every preparation had been made at Moseley Old Hall so that the king
could be got into the house secretly.
It being now past midnight, all the servants had long since retired to
rest. Four persons only were on the alert. These were Lord Wilmot, who
remained in his bedchamber; Father Huddlestone, who was stationed in
a close, called the Moore, adjoining the mansion; Mr. Whitgreave, who
had repaired to another close, called Allport's Leasow, and concealed
himself in a dry pit, covered with trees; and Major Careless, who was
watching for the king and his companions at the entrance of a long
lime-tree walk that led to the ancient mansion.
Careless had to wait there more than an hour, but at length was
rewarded by the appearance of the party, and satisfied that he could
not be mistaken, went forth to meet them.
A cordial greeting passed between Charles and his favourite, and the
latter heartily congratulated his majesty on his safe arrival.
"I had begun to feel somewhat uneasy," he said. "But I knew your
majesty was well guarded."
"Truly, I have been well guarded," said Charles, looking gratefully at
his attendants. "But thou wilt be astonished to hear that we have had
an encounter with Colonel Ashenhurst. We owe our escape to a device of
that clever little page Jasper."
"What do I hear?" cried Careless. "Has your majesty seen Jasper?"
"I have only just parted with him," replied Charles. "Nay, do not
trouble yourself. He is safe enough. I left him at Pendeford Mill."
"This is good news, indeed!" cried Careless, joyfully.
"I knew it would delight thee," said Charles, smiling. "But let us to
the house. Art thou appointed to do the honours?"
"Mr. Whitgreave is at hand," replied Careless. "If your majesty will
be pleased to walk on a little further, I will present him to you. You
will find him a most excellent host."
They then marched quickly along the lime-tree walk, until they came to
the close which we have said was designated Allport's Leasow.
Here Careless gave the signal agreed upon, and Mr. Whitgreave, who had
passed a very anxious hour in the dry pit, immediately issued forth
from it.
"Do not present him," said the king, in a low voice, as his host
approached. "I should like to see whether he will recognise me."
For a moment or two, Mr. Whitgreave was perplexed.
With the exception of Careless all the group were habited alike in
forester's attire, but the stalwart Penderels were not to be mistaken,
so after a second survey Mr. Whitgreave no longer hesitated, but threw
himself at the feet of the right person, exclaiming:
"This, I am certain, is my royal master."
"You are right, Mr. Whitgreave," rejoined Charles, giving him his hand
to kiss. "But oddsfish! I should not have been offended if you had not
known me in this garb--though I cannot be ashamed of it, since it is
worn by such brave and faithful fellows as these, who have protected me
at the hazard of their lives. May I never want such defenders as you
and your brothers!" he added, to William Penderel.
"We have simply done our duty, my liege," replied William.
"If others do their duty as well, I shall have reason to be thankful,"
said Charles, earnestly. "Mr. Whitgreave," he added, "you will excuse
me, but since I must now part with these faithful men, I must tell
them what I feel in your hearing--and in your hearing too, father," he
continued, as the good priest, who having become aware of the king's
arrival, had come up. "To all the brothers Penderel I owe much, but
to the courage and fidelity of William and Trusty Dick I undoubtedly
owe my preservation. Let what I now say be remembered, and repeated
to me hereafter, should the great services they have rendered me be
inadequately requited when I have the power to requite them. Farewell,
my good and faithful friends!" he continued, with an emotion that he
did not seek to repress. "Farewell!"
"Must we quit you, my liege?" cried Trusty Dick. "We will quit our
homes and all dear to us to follow your majesty's fortunes."
"It cannot be," rejoined Charles. "I am fully sensible of your
devotion, but we must part. You would only be a hindrance to me.
Farewell! farewell!"
And he stretched out his hand, which the stalwart brothers seized and
pressed to their lips.
"Mr. Whitgreave," he added, "you will take care of these brave men."
"They shall have the best the buttery can afford, my liege," replied
Whitgreave. "And I will attend to them myself, as I must needs do,
seeing that all my servants are a-bed. Father Huddlestone will conduct
your majesty to the house."
Bestowing a last look at the three stalwart brothers, who seemed
greatly dejected, Charles, accompanied by Careless, followed Father
Huddlestone to the house.
Entering at the rear of the mansion, Father Huddlestone took the king
and Careless up a back staircase with cautious steps, and as they
neared the summit they perceived a dark figure retreating noiselessly
down a passage.
Aware that this was Lord Wilmot, Charles kept silence till he had
entered his lordship's room, which was situated at the end of the
passage, and he then gave utterance to his satisfaction.
Lord Wilmot, as the reader is aware, was a special favourite of the
king, and his majesty had more dependence upon him than upon any one
else, save Careless. Lord Wilmot must not be confounded with his son,
the dissolute Earl of Rochester, who figured some years afterwards at
the court of the Merry Monarch. A brave, chivalrous nobleman, he was
able to act as a sort of Mentor to the king.
Lord Wilmot had, in fact, belonged to the court of Charles I., and had
acquired the grave manners of that period. Tall and strongly built, he
had handsome, expressive features. The Earl of Rochester, as is well
known, could successfully counterfeit any part he pleased, but he did
not inherit his talent any more than his vices from his father, who
could never be prevailed upon to assume a disguise, declaring that, if
he did so, he should infallibly be found out.
Seeing that the king looked much fatigued with his journey, Lord
Wilmot besought him to postpone all conversation till he had taken some
refreshment, and opening a cupboard his lordship produced some cates
and a flask of canary.
Charles sat down, and emptying a goblet of generous wine, insisted
upon all the others following his example, and while they were doing
so a gentle tap was heard at the door, which was opened by Father
Huddlestone, and Mr. Whitgreave came in.
"What of my faithful attendants--the Penderels?" cried the king. "Have
they been well cared for? Pardon the question, Mr. Whitgreave. I am
sure they have."
"They are gone, my liege," replied Whitgreave. "And I must say
that I never saw men more grieved to part with a master than these
loyal-hearted fellows are to quit your majesty."
"Say you sooth?" cried Charles.
"Your majesty shall judge," replied Whitgreave. "I took them to the
buttery, where I have often seen each and all of them make a hearty
meal, and where there was plenty of cold meat, and bade them fall to
and spare not. They declined. And when I pressed them further, saying
they would discredit my house if they went away without supper, they
said they had no appetite. 'No appetite!' I exclaimed. 'How is this?'
But I soon found out what was the matter. Each honest heart was full,
and wanted relief. A single morsel of meat would have choked any one of
them. However, they drank a cup of ale to your majesty's health."
"And they are gone?" cried Charles. "I should have liked to see their
honest faces once more."
"Your majesty knows where to find them should you again require their
services," said Mr. Whitgreave. "And I am sure nothing will delight
them more than to have another opportunity of proving their fidelity."
But circumstances, as will be seen as we proceed with our narrative,
did not allow Charles to employ any one of the stalwart brothers
again. Their part in our story is played. Yet before dismissing them,
we would express our genuine admiration of the loyal men we have
endeavoured to depict. In describing them we have not gone beyond the
truth; nor endowed them with heroic qualities they did not possess. The
Penderel brothers were men of unwavering loyalty, brave as faithful,
and possessed of such extraordinary strength as rendered them truly
formidable antagonists. Fortunately, they were not called upon to
display their valour in action. Had they been required to defend the
king from an attack during the nocturnal ride from Boscobel to Moseley
Old Hall, which we have just described, it is certain they would have
done tremendous execution upon his foes, and have delivered him,
or died in his defence. That their loyal hearts could not harbour
a thought of treason, or quail before peril, we have shown. Their
devotion to the fugitive monarch, and the important services they
rendered him in his hour of need have gained them a page in England's
history. Very pleasant has it been to chronicle their actions, and we
part from them with regret.
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THE KING WAS PRESENTED TO MRS. WHITGREAVE.
Though the night was now far spent, and he had undergone great fatigue,
Charles felt so happy in the society of Lord Wilmot and the others,
that he was unwilling to retire to rest, and remained for some time in
conversation with the party. Not before three o'clock in the morning,
did he ask his host where he was to sleep.
Mr. Whitgreave conducted him to a large chamber panelled with black
oak, in which stood an old-fashioned bedstead, with heavy furniture,
and a carved canopy almost touching the ceiling.
While looking at this large comfortable bed, Charles feared Mr.
Whitgreave would tell him that his safety demanded that he should sleep
in some secret closet; but no such suggestion was made.
"I am delighted with my room," said the king to his host; "but where
are the hiding-places? I should like to see them, in case an emergency
should arise."
"I intended to show them to you to-morrow, my liege," replied Mr.
Whitgreave. "But you shall see them at once."
With this he led the king along a narrow passage to another chamber, in
which there was a small bed.
"This is my room," said Careless, who accompanied them. "But I am quite
ready to give it up to your Majesty, should you prefer it to the large
oak chamber you have just seen."
"I have no such desire," rejoined Charles.
"Wait till you have seen the arrangements, my liege," said Careless.
"This room has a false floor, my liege," he said, "and beneath is a
narrow passage leading to the ground floor by the brewhouse chimney.
But this I will more fully explain to your majesty on the morrow."
"Enough," replied Charles. "I am quite content with what I have seen. I
shall now sleep soundly."
He then returned to the oak chamber, and his recent privations made him
greatly enjoy the luxury of the large and comfortable bed.
Every possible precaution was taken by Mr. Whitgreave and Father
Huddlestone to prevent any of the household from obtaining sight of the
king. The servants were given to understand that a fugitive Cavalier
had arrived at the house during the night, and was lodged in the oak
bedchamber, but they believed him to be a relative of their master, and
had no suspicion whatever of the truth.
Charles slept very soundly in his large and comfortable bed, and when
he awoke he found Careless watching beside him. After the customary
morning salutations had passed between them, Careless pointed to a rich
velvet suit spread out on a fauteuil, and said:
"I pray your majesty to look at these habiliments. Your worthy host
hopes you will deign to wear them during your stay at Moseley Hall."
"Faith! I am infinitely obliged by the attention," replied Charles.
"Pray is Mr. Whitgreave married?"
"Not yet, sire," replied Careless. "But his mother resides with him,
and Father Huddlestone tells me the old lady is wonderfully anxious to
be presented to your majesty."
"Oddsfish! she must be content to see me in my peasant's costume," said
Charles. "Had she been young and fair I might have put on that rich
suit to please her. I shall only require some clean linen."
"A shirt is already provided for you, sire, as you perceive," replied
Careless.
"'Sdeath! I can never wear that fine shirt," cried Charles. "The laced
ruffles would betray me at once."
"Well, here is a country noggen shirt, with coarse hosen to match. Do
they please you, sire?"
"The noggen shirt and rough hose will suit me exactly," said the king.
"As a punishment for tempting me with fine linen, thou shalt help to
resume my disguise."
"Willingly, sire. I am here for the purpose of helping you to make your
toilette."
Once more habited in his forester's dress, to which he had now
become accustomed, Charles was cautiously conducted by Careless to
the library, where he found Lord Wilmot, with his host and Father
Huddlestone.
His majesty was received with more ceremony than he liked, and he put
an end to it by sitting down to the breakfast prepared for him, and
begging the others to join him. They excused themselves, alleging that
they had already breakfasted, but Careless having no such excuse to
offer, obeyed without the slightest hesitation. The king, however,
could not prevent his host and Father Huddlestone from serving him.
Charles was in very good spirits, chatted familiarly with every one
present, and seemed to make light of all difficulties and dangers.
Mr. Whitgreave was quite surprised by his cheerfulness, and could not
help expressing admiration at the manner in which his majesty bore his
misfortunes.
"I never suffer myself to be cast down," said the king. "And I have
hitherto found my courage rise in proportion to the dangers by which I
have been surrounded."
"With the spirit you possess, my liege, and with Heaven's support,"
observed Father Huddlestone, who was standing by, "you cannot fail to
overcome all difficulties, and must regain the throne."
"I trust your prediction will be fulfilled, father," replied Charles.
"I can afford to wait. After the failure of my great enterprise,
nothing more can be done in England at present. Another army cannot be
raised. My object, as you are aware, is to reach the coast and embark
for France. But I am environed by enemies."
"This reminds me, sire," said Whitgreave, "that my mother has just
received a message, brought by a faithful emissary from Bentley House,
which it may import you to hear, as I think it concerns your majesty."
"I must chide you for not presenting your mother to me ere this, Mr.
Whitgreave," said Charles. "It will delight me to see her."
"The omission shall be repaired at once, sire," replied Whitgreave.
Making an obeisance, he quitted the library, and presently returned
with a tall elderly dame, who had still to some extent preserved her
good looks.
Mr. Whitgreave led his mother by the hand towards the king, who saluted
her very graciously and prevented her from kneeling, telling her with
many kind expressions how much he was indebted to her son for receiving
him at this perilous juncture.
"Ah, sire," she exclaimed, "my son and myself are only too proud
to receive you, and would sacrifice our lives to accomplish your
deliverance. Jane Lane, who is devoted to your majesty, and whom I love
dearly as a daughter, has just sent a message to me to say that her
brother has obtained a pass from Captain Stone, governor of Stafford,
for herself and a groom to go into the west."
And she paused.
"Well, madam, what more?" asked Charles.
"I scarcely dare venture to propose that your majesty should perform
the part of a groom, yet seeing you in this garb----"