A NOBLE ENEMY.
"He was a stalwart knight and keen,
And had in many a battle been;
* * * *
His eyebrow dark, and eye of fire,
Show'd spirit proud and prompt to ire;
Yet lines of thought upon his cheek
Did deep design and council speak."
SCOTT.
Richard reached Whitehall, and inquired his way to Prince Rupert's
lodging in the Stone Gallery, still half dazed with the rush of
conflicting thoughts. Then he controlled himself, and knocked; and not
till he heard that the prince was indeed arrived in London did he
realize how heartily he had hoped that his search would be in vain.
He found with some surprise a negro boy, the only attendant in waiting
in the ante-room. He had imagined that a royal ante-chamber must be
thronged with courtiers and suitors, and his shy pride was relieved to
find the way was at least not barred by gilded grooms-in-waiting, or
fashionable loungers. The boy greeting him with a flash of white
teeth, made no formality over admitting an entire stranger, but at once
introduced him into a little book-closet on the ground floor, where a
gentleman was busily engaged in unpacking folios from a great sea
chest; and as he turned to receive the visitor, Dick, to his
inexpressible relief, saw a face that had been familiar to him in
Scotland.
"Zounds! Captain Harrison," cried the gentleman, merrily, "are you the
first swallow that heralds a summer? I swear you are the first visitor
that has crossed the threshold since we landed yesterday, and I thought
you were anchored in Edinburgh. But all men meet in London! Well, and
are you come to crush a cup with me in memory of the merry days we had
in Old Reekie?"
"Nay, Mr. Cowth, it is as a suitor I come," began Harrison, rather
awkwardly.
"A suitor! 'Tis admirable!" cried the lively youth. "Why, man, we
scarce believe ourselves royal till some one comes to beg a favour!
Good faith, 'tis but a poor trade this of royalty!"
"Why, sir," returned Richard, making an effort to respond to the
geniality of the gentleman in waiting, "I thought you were on the sunny
side of the hedge nowadays?"
"Ay, ay; but we had some shrewd blasts to weather before we got here!
And I am not yet well assured which way the weather-cock will swing
yet. Hark in your ear, 'tisn't every one in England that is glad to
see us. There is a fat old fox they have just made Earl of Clarendon
who makes my master mad every time he sets eyes on him, and that fox
holds the weather-cock by a string, I fancy. Prim old self-seeking
rascal. But we'll have some merry times yet, which ever way the wind
sets, hey, Captain Harrison?"
"I fear," answered Richard, gravely, "the merry times are at an end for
me and my friends."
"Say you so? I' faith, I was near forgetting that your party is down
in the world, you have so little the cut of a square-toed roundhead! I
am heartily sorry you are in trouble. But cheer up, man. There sits
his Highness above stairs that has been wrecked and imprisoned and
ruined a dozen times over, and yet here has he come full sail into
port. And I'll warrant he'll sit at the king's table long after old
Clarendon's sun has set."
"I fear my fortune is scarce like to be so good," answered Richard. "I
have not a kins to my cousin."
"True, true; and 'mon cousin' is a very pretty fellow, and a right
loving kinsman to boot when he does not forget! But to-day he is away
a-hunting, and the Duke of York is making sheep's eyes at the fox's
clever daughter Nan, so here we sit solitary."
"Do you think his Highness would grant me an audience?" put in Richard,
endeavouring to stem the flood of the lively young fellow's gossip.
"Oh, Lord, yes; no doubt of it. Come your ways, come your ways--in
faith, you have come in a good hour, for, with one thing and another,
my prince is in a desperate bad humour to-day, and who knows but you
may make a distraction."
And without more delay the young man bustled the half reluctant
Harrison up the stairs, and into a great panelled room that looked out
over the shining Thames.
The afternoon sun streamed in through the wide casement, and lit up a
curious medley that showed no woman's hand might dare to bring order
into his Highness's apartment. A beautiful portrait of the Queen of
Bohemia, that could come from no meaner brush than that of Vandyke,
hung on the wall, while beneath it a table was heaped with dusty
bottles and jars, retorts, and powder-flasks. A casket of chased
silver lay overturned on the floor, with a plumed hat tossed beside it,
and a gorgeous paraquet clambered up and down a heap of sea-rusted
armour tumbled in a corner.
At a table in the midst of this picturesque confusion, sat a man of
middle age, whose thoughtful eyes and finely chiseled features still
showed the beauty inherited from his mother, the luckless Queen of
Hearts. But the face, overshadowed by the heavy curls of a fashionable
periwig, was worn and roughened by exposure and hardship, and the weary
gloom that darkened the noble forehead and drooped the haughty lips
marked the years of disappointment that had changed the fiery paladin
of 1642 into the sad and cynical Rupert of the Restoration.
The Prince was writing rapidly when they entered, and did not even
raise his head as he exclaimed--
"Go away, Cowth! Did I not bid you leave me in peace till supper-time?"
Mr. Cowth's manner had become suddenly subdued on entering the room,
and he crossed over and spoke to the prince in a low tone, with a
deferential air that was a curious contrast to the airy swagger with
which he had run up the staircase.
The prince flung his pen on the floor, and leaned back in his chair to
look at the intruder, who stood by the door inwardly cursing himself
for having been such a fool as to force himself into such a position.
"Sir," the prince's cold imperious tone rung like a bell in the silent,
sunny room, "I hear you are kin to General Harrison this day condemned
to death."
Richard bowed assent.
"You are to be pitied," continued the prince; "but I know not anything
in which I can serve you;" and with a slight inclination of his head
Rupert turned to his papers.
But he had forgotten the impatient movement with which he had flicked
his pen to the other side of the room, and as he paused to search for
it Dick caught the opportunity, and stepped over to the table.
"I entreat you, sir, to give me leave to say two words," he urged.
The prince looked up with cold surprise. "Say on, sir," he answered.
"Sir, when you delivered over Bristol to my Lord Fairfax, you said some
words to General Harrison that his friends still bear in mind, and I
would be so bold as to bring them back to-day to your Highness's
memory. You said then that were it ever in your power to repay the
satisfaction you had received from him in your day of trouble, you
would do it."
For a moment Prince Rupert's amazement kept him absolutely silent; then
he burst out--
"How! you must be beside yourself to come to me--_me!_--Rupert! on such
an errand! Because, forsooth, I exchanged civilities with one I held
an honourable enemy, you dare to expect my interest on behalf of a
regicide! I vow, sir, every man who even witnessed that most
abominable and unnatural murder should swing, did it depend on me. Go
to those of your own party, who have had the wit to secure their own
necks; maybe they may also have the skill to juggle your kinsman out of
jail."
Richard could hardly wonder at the tone of contempt, and he almost
blessed it, for it aroused an answering anger that dispelled his shy
reluctance to speak, and his answer came promptly--
"We count among our friends, sir, none who have secured their own
safety."
"Faith, I might have guessed you were short of friends when you turned
to me," replied Rupert, with a sneer.
"Sir," answered Richard, boldly, "you yourself taught us in the wars
that 'tis better to trust to a noble enemy than to an unworthy friend!"
"Ha! well answered. Faith! I dare be sworn you have seen service;
but, my good enemy," continued Rupert, in a perceptibly milder tone,
"'tis not now war-time, and we soldiers have no say in matters of civil
justice."
The change in the prince's voice encouraged Dick to make another effort.
"There can be no matter in which your Highness has not a say," he urged.
"Thinkst thou so?" answered Rupert, with a keen glance at the handsome
and soldierly figure of the young man. "Now, sir, I warrant you know
by experience that a broadsword is a good enough thing to have in your
fist on the field of battle; but, the war over, 'tis neither fit for a
lady's chamber nor for a courtier's duello; 'tis but a commodity of
rusty iron to fling in the lumber-room."
"Sir," cried Dick, with a gleam of comprehension that almost amounted
to reverence, "that may be London fashion; we country folk hang the
broadsword in the place of honour, and account it the prime treasure of
the house."
Rupert smiled. "Those be fashions of another time," he said. "Take
the counsel of your preachers, and beat your sword into a pruning-hook,
my good youth, else it will be apt to cut your fingers. Under whom
have you served?"
"Under General Monck in Scotland, your Highness."
"Under Monck! Why, then, you must be a fool if you miss the good
things showered on him and his friends by this heaven-sent Restoration!
"No, sir, I laid down my sword when the late--when Richard Cromwell
left Whitehall."
Rupert's last remnant of ill-humour vanished in a peal of laughter.
"Good faith," he cried; "'tis worth an hour lost to learn that
Tumble-down Dick had one follower, and, I warrant, a faithful one!
_Aller Teufel!_ thou art as good a lad as I have seen in this most
virtuous and loyal city. Nevertheless, I cannot help thee."
"I have but to thank your Highness for your patience," said Dick.
"Yet stay," said the prince, who was indeed strangely taken by the
young Roundhead, "stay; I am heartily sorry I cannot serve you. Are
you in safety yourself? My credit is small, yet perchance it might
stretch----"
"I thank you, sir," answered Dick, sadly; "I need nothing for myself."
The prince's interest seemed to grow. "I see not wherein I can move,"
he muttered, "and I would not if I could." He remained sunk in
thought. "Harkye, sir, I am not one of those that love to deck out a
city with carrion. I see naught gained by making war with the dead.
Stone dead is the end of the story as far as it concerns a soldier.
This healing and blessed Parliament, I hear, holds a gibbet a prettier
sight than a stricken field; that is not my mind, and if I can move any
of these valiant pantaloons to let General Harrison's body be delivered
to his friends, I will do it. Good day to you." And, disregarding
Dick's clumsy attempts at gratitude, the prince turned his back, and
resumed his search for his pen.
Mr. Cowth, who had kept prudently in the background, took Dick by the
arm, and pulled him out of the room.
"Take my thanks, Harrison," he chuckled, as he led him downstairs; "the
black dog is off his Highness's back, and when he waits on his Majesty
to-night, he will be worthy himself. Ah, Harrison; why art thou a
Roundhead? Is not that a master worth serving?"
"Ay, indeed," answered Richard, heartily; "he is a most noble and
generous gentleman--well-nigh as noble as him they will hang on
Saturday"--he added bitterly to himself; "but my lot is cast, friend,
and I may not change it."
"I am sorry to leave thee in such a mind," answered Mr. Cowth, with
mock solemnity, "and I pray thee lay to heart my parting words.
Forswear Square Toes; repent thee of Republicanism, and I'll stand
godfather to thy new life! So go and get thee wisdom!" And the young
fellow turned, laughing, back to his work, while Richard sadly retraced
his steps to Mrs. Harrison's lodgings.