The King's General

  I slept but ill that night, for to be ignorant of the truth is, I shall always believe, the worst sort of mental torture, and to a powerless woman, who cannot forget her fears in taking action, there is no remedy. The next day was as hot and airless as the one preceding, and when I came down after breakfast I wondered if I looked as haggard and careworn to the rest of the company as they looked to me. And still no news. Everything was strangely silent--even the jackdaws who usually clustered in the trees down in the warren had flown and settled elsewhere. Shortly before noon, when some of us were assembled in the dining chamber to take cold meat, Mary, coming from her sun parlor across the hall, cried, "There is a horseman riding through the park towards the house." Everyone began talking at once and pushing to the windows, and John, something white about the lips, went to the courtyard to receive whomever it should be.

  The rider clattered into the inner court, with all of us watching from the windows, and though he was covered from head to foot with dust, and had a great slash across his boot, I recognized him as young Joe Grenvile.

  "I have a message for Mistress Harris," he said, flinging himself from his horse. My throat went dry, and my hands wet. He is dead, I thought, for certain.

  "But the battle? How goes the battle?" and "What of the rebels?" "What has happened?" Questions on all sides were put to him, with Nick Sawle on one side, and Will Sparke on the other, so that he had to push his way through them to reach me in the hall.

  "Essex will be in Bodmin by nightfall," he said briefly. "We have just had a brush above Lostwithiel with Lord Robartes and his brigade, who have now turned back to meet him. We ourselves are in hot retreat to Truro, where Sir Richard plans to raise more troops. I am come from the road but to bring this message to Mistress Harris."

  "Essex at Bodmin?" A cry of alarm went up from all the company, and Temperance Sawle went straightway on her knees and called upon her Maker. But I was busy tearing open Richard's letter.

  "My sweet love," I read, "the hook is nicely baited, and the poor misguided fish gapes at it with his mouth wide open. He will be in Bodmin at night, and most probably in Fowey tomorrow. His chief adviser in the business is that crass idiot, Jack Robartes, whose mansion at Lanhydrock I have just had infinite pleasure in pillaging. They will swallow the bait hook, line, and sinker. We shall come up on them from Truro, and His Majesty, Maurice, and Ralph Hopton from the east. The King has already advanced as far as Tavistock, so the fish will be most prettily landed. Your immediate future at Menabilly being somewhat unpleasant, it will be best if you return the whelp to me, with his tutor. I have given Joe instructions on the matter. Keep to your chamber, my dear love, and have no fear. We will come to your succor as soon as may be. My respects to your sister and the company.

  Your devoted servant

  Richard Grenvile

  I placed the letter in my gown, and turned to Joe.

  "Is the General well?" I asked.

  "Never better," he grinned. "I have just left him eating roast pork on the road to Grampound, while his servant cleaned his boots. We seized a score of pigs from Lord Robartes's park, and a herd of sheep, and some twenty head of cattle--the troops are in high fettle. If you hear rumors of our losses at Newbridge, pay no attention to them; the higher the figure they are put at by the enemy, the better pleased will be Sir Richard."

  I motioned then that I would like to speak with him apart, and he withdrew alone with me to the sun parlor.

  "What is the plan for Dick?" I asked.

  "Sir Richard thinks it best if the boy and Mr. Ashley embark by fishing boat for St. Mawes, if arrangements can be made with one of the fellows at Polkerris. They can keep close inshore, and once around the Dodman the passage will not be long. I have money here to pay the fishermen, and pay them well, for their trouble."

  "When should they depart?"

  "As soon as possible. I will see to it, and go with them to the beach. Then I shall return to join Sir Richard, and with any luck catch up with him on the Grampound-Truro road. The trouble is that the roads are already choked with people in headlong flight from Essex, all making for the west, and it will not be long now before the rebel cavalry reach the district."

  "There is, then, no time to lose," I answered. "I will ask Mr. John Rashleigh to go with you to Polkerris--he will know the men there who are most likely to be trusted."

  I called John to come to me, and hurriedly explained the plan, whereupon he set forth straightway to Polkerris with Joe Grenvile, while I sent word to Herbert Ashley that I wished to speak to him. He arrived looking very white about the gills, for rumor had run riot in the place that the Grenvile troops were flying in disorder with the rebels on their heels and the war was irrevocably lost. He looked much relieved when I told him that he and Dick were to depart upon the instant, by sea and not by road, and went immediately to pack their things, promising to be ready within the hour. The task then fell upon me to break the news to my shadow. He was standing by the side door, looking out onto the garden, and I beckoned him to my side.

  "Dick," I said to him, "I want you to be brave and sensible. The neighborhood is likely to be surrounded by the enemy before another day, and Menabilly will be seized. Your father thinks it better you should not be found here, and I have arranged, therefore, with Mr. Rashleigh, that you and your tutor should go by boat to St. Mawes, where you will be safe."

  "Are you coming too?" he asked.

  "No, Dick. This is a very sudden plan, made only for yourselves. I, and the rest of the company, will remain at Menabilly."

  "Then so will I."

  "No, Dick. You must let me judge for you. And it is best for you to go."

  "Does it mean that I must join my father?"

  "That I cannot tell. All I know is that the fishing boat is to take you to St. Mawes."

  He said nothing, but looked queerly sulky and strange, and after a moment or two went up to join his tutor.

  I had a pain at the pit of my stomach all the while, for there is nothing so contagious as panic, and the atmosphere of sharp anxiety was rife in the air. In the gallery little groups of people were gathered, all with strained eyes and drawn faces, and Alice's children, aware of tension, chose--poor dears--this moment to be fretful, and were clinging to her skirts crying bitterly.

  "There is time yet to reach Truro if only we had conveyance," I heard Will say, his face gray with fear, "but Jonathan took all the horses with him, and the farm wagons would be too slow. Where has John gone? Is it not possible for him to arrange in some manner that we be conducted to Truro?"

  His sisters watched him with anxious eyes, and I saw Gillian whisper hurriedly to Deborah that none of their things were ready and it would take her till evening to sort out what was necessary for travel. Then Nick Sawle, drawing himself up proudly, said in a loud voice: "My wife and I propose to stay at Menabilly. If cowards care to clatter on the roads as fugitives, they are welcome to do so, but I find it a poor return to our cousin Jonathan to desert his house like rats in a time of trouble."

  My sister Mary looked towards me in distress.

  "What do you counsel, Honor?" she said. "Should we set forth, or should we stay? Jonathan gave me no commands. He assured me that the enemy would not cross the Tamar, or, at the worst, be turned back after a few miles."

  "My God," I said, "if you care to hide in the ditches with the driven cattle, then by all means go, but I swear you will fare worse upon the road than you are likely to do at home. Better to starve under your own roof than in the hedges."

  "We have plenty of provisions," said Mary, snatching a ray of hope. "We are not likely to want for anything, unless the siege be long." She turned in consultation to her stepdaughters, who were all of them still occupied in calming the children, and I thought it wisest not to spread further consternation by telling her that once the rebels held the house they would make short work of her provisions.

  The clock in the belfry had just struck three when Dick and his tutor came down ready for departur
e. The lad was still sulky, and turned his head from me when I would say good-bye. This was better than the rebellious tears I had expected, and with a cheerful voice I wished him a speedy journey, and assured him that a week or less would see the end of all our troubles. He did not answer, and I signed to Herbert Ashley to take his arm and to start walking across the park with Frank Penrose, who would conduct them to Polkerris, and there fall in with John Rashleigh and Joe Grenvile, who must by this time have matters well arranged.

  Anxiety and strain had brought an aching back upon me, and I desired nothing so much as to retire to the gatehouse and lie upon my bed. I sent for Matty, and she, with the help of Joan and Alice, carried me upstairs. The sun was coming strongly through my western casement, and the room was hot and airless. I lay upon my bed, sticky wet, wishing with all my heart that I were a man and could ride with Joe Grenvile on the road to Truro, instead of lying there, a woman and a cripple, waiting for the relentless tramp of enemy feet. I had been there but an hour, I suppose, snatching brief oblivion, when I heard once more the sound of a horse galloping across the park, and, calling to Matty, I inquired who it should be. She went to the casement and looked out.

  "It's Mr. John," she said, "in great distress by his expression. Something has gone amiss." My heart sank at her words. Perhaps, after all, the fishermen at Polkerris could not be tempted to set sail. In a moment or two I heard his footstep on the stairs and he flung into my room, forgetting even to knock upon the door.

  "We have lost Dick," he said. "He has vanished, and is nowhere to be found." He stood staring at me, the sweat pouring down his face, and I could see that his whole frame was trembling.

  "What do you mean? What has happened?" I asked swiftly, raising myself in my bed.

  "We were all assembled on the beach," he said, his breath coming quickly, "and the boat was launched. There was a little cuddy below deck, and with my own eyes I saw Dick descend to it, his bundle under his arm. There was no trouble to engage the boat, and the men--both of them stout fellows, well known to me--were willing. Just before they drew anchor we heard a clatter on the cobbles beside the cottages, and some lads came running down in great alarm to tell us that the first body of rebel horse had cut the road from Castledore to Tywardreath, and that Polmear Hill was already blocked with troops. At this the men began to make sail, and young Joe Grenvile turned to me with a wink and said, 'It looks as if I must go by water too.' Before I could answer him, he had urged his horse into the sea and was making for the sand flats half a mile away to the westward. It was half tide, but he had reached them, and turned in his saddle to wave to us, within five-and-twenty minutes. He'll be on Gosmoor by now, and halfway to St. Austell."

  "But Dick?" I said. "You say you have lost Dick?"

  "He was in the boat," he said stubbornly. "I swear he was in the boat. But we turned to listen to the lads and their tale of the troops at Tywardreath, and then with one accord we watched young Joe put his horse to the water and swim for it. By heaven, Honor, it was the boldest thing I have ever seen a youngster do, for the tide can run swiftly between Polkerris and the flats. And then Ashley the tutor, looking about him, called for Dick, but could not find him. We searched the vessel from stern to stern, but he wasn't there. He was not on the beach. He was not anywhere. For God's sake, Honor, what are we to do now?"

  I felt as helpless as he did, and sick with anxiety, for here was I having failed utterly in my trust, and the rebel troops were not two miles away.

  "Where is the boat now?" I asked.

  "Lying off the Gribben, waiting for a signal from me," said John, "with that useless tutor aboard, with no other thought in his mind but getting to St. Mawes. But even if we find the boy, Honor, I fear it will be too late."

  "Search the cliffs in all directions," I said, "and the grounds, and the park and pasture. Was anything said to the lad upon the way?"

  "I cannot say. I think not. I only heard Frank Penrose tell him that by nightfall he would be with his father."

  So that was it, I thought. A moment's indiscretion, but enough to turn Dick from his journey, and make him play truant like a child from school. I could do nothing in the search, but bade John set forth once more with Frank Penrose, saying no word to anyone of what had happened. And, calling to Matty, I bade her take me to the causeway.

  15

  Once on the high ground, I had as good a view of the surrounding country as I could wish, and I saw Frank Penrose and John Rashleigh strike out across the park to the beacon fields, and then divide. All the while I had a fear in my heart that the boy had drowned himself, and would be found with the rising tide floating face downwards in the wash below Polkerris cliffs. There was no sign of the boat, and I judged it to be to the westward, beyond Polkerris and the Gribben.

  Back and forth we went along the causeway, with Matty pushing my chair, and still no sign of a living soul, nothing but the cattle grazing on the farther hills, and the ripple of a breeze blowing the corn upon the skyline.

  Presently I sent Matty within doors for a cloak, for the breeze was freshening, and on her return she told me that stragglers were already pouring into the park from the roads, women and children, and old men, all with makeshift bundles on their backs, begging for shelter, for the route was cut to Truro and the rebels were everywhere. My sister Mary was at her wits' ends to know what to say to them, and many of them were already kindling fires down in the warren and making rough shelter for the night.

  "As I came out just now," said Matty, "a litter borne by four horses came to rest in the courtyard, and a lady within demanded harborage for herself and her young daughters. I heard the servant say they had been nine hours upon the road."

  I thanked God in my heart that we had remained at Menabilly and not lost our heads like these other poor unfortunates.

  "Go back, Matty," I said, "and see what you can do to help my sister. None of the servants have any sense left in their heads."

  She had not been gone more than ten minutes before I saw two figures coming across the fields towards me. One of them, seeing me upon the causeway, waved his arm, while with the other he held fast to his companion.

  It was John Rashleigh, and he had Dick with him.

  When they reached me I saw the boy was dripping wet, and scratched about the face and hands by brambles, but for once he was not bothered by the sight of blood, but stared at me defiantly.

  "I will not go," he said. "You cannot make me go."

  John Rashleigh shook his head at me, and shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "It's no use, Honor," he said. "We shall have to keep him. There's a wash on the beaches now, and I've signaled to the boat to make sail and take the tutor across the bay to Mevagissey or Gorran, where he must make shift for himself. As for this lad, I found him halfway up the cliff, a mile from Polkerris--he had been waist-deep in water for the past three hours. God only knows what Sir Richard will say to the bungle we have made."

  "Never mind Sir Richard. I will take care of him," I said, "when--and if--we ever clap eyes on him again. That boy must return to the house with me and be shifted into dry clothes before anything else is done with him."

  Now, the causeway at Menabilly is set high, as I have said, commanding a fine view both to east and to west, and at this moment, I know not why, I turned my head towards the coast road that descended down to Pridmouth from Coombe and Fowey, and I saw, silhouetted on the skyline above the valley, a single horseman. In a moment he was joined by others, who paused an instant on the hill, and then, following their leader, plunged down the narrow roadway to the cove. John saw them too, for our eyes met, and we looked at one another long and silently, while Dick stood between us, his eyes downcast, his teeth chattering.

  Richard in the old days was wont to tease me for my south-coast blood, so sluggish, he averred, compared with that which ran through his own north-coast veins, but I swear I thought, in the next few seconds, as rapidly as he had ever done or was likely yet to do.

  "Have you your father'
s keys?" I said to John.

  "Yes," he said.

  "All of them?"

  "All of them."

  "On your person now?"

  "Yes."

  "Then open the door of the summerhouse."

  He obeyed me without question--thank God his stern father had taught him discipline--and in an instant we stood at the threshold with the door flung open.

  "Lift the mat from beneath the desk there," I said, "and raise the flagstone." He looked at me then in wonder, but went without a word to do as I had bidden him. In a moment the mat was lifted, and the flagstone too and the flight of steps betrayed to view. "Don't ask me any questions, John," I said. "There is no time. A passage runs underground from those steps to the house. Take Dick with you now, first replacing the flagstone above your heads, and crawl with him along the passage to the further end. You will come to a small room, like a cell, and another flight of steps. At the top of the steps is a door, which opens, I believe, from the passage end. But do not try to open it until I give you warning from the house."

  I could read the sense of what I said go slowly to his mind, and a dawn of comprehension come into his eyes.

  "The chamber next to yours?" he said. "My uncle John?"

  "Yes," I said. "Give me the keys. Go quickly."

  There was no trouble now with Dick. He had gathered from my manner that danger was deadly near and the time for truancy over. He bolted down into the hole like a frightened rabbit. I watched John settle the mat over the flagstone, and then, descending after Dick he lowered the stone above his head and disappeared. The summerhouse was as it had been, empty, and untouched. I leaned over in my chair and turned the key in the lock, and then put the keys inside my gown. I looked out to the eastward and saw that the skyline was empty. The troopers would have reached the cove by now, and, after they had watered their horses at the mill, would climb up the further side and be at Menabilly within ten minutes. The sweat was running down my forehead clammy cold, and as I waited for Matty to fetch me--and God only knew how much longer she would be--I thought how I would give all I possessed in the world at that moment for one good swig of brandy.