The Young Castellan: A Tale of the English Civil War

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

  ROY HEARS THE SIMPLE TRUTH.

  A month had passed, and the prisoners knew nothing of what was going onin the outer world. Now and then rumours floated to Roy's ears throughdifferent channels of how matters progressed in the country, but theywere rumours which, Lady Royland pointed out, could not be trustworthy.One day it would be that the king was carrying everything before him,and that the rebellion was nearly stamped out; while on another theyheard that the Parliamentarians held the whole country, and the kinghardly had a follower left.

  The moat embraced the world of the prisoners during their captivity, andthey knew what went on within its enclosure,--little else.

  "We must wait patiently, Roy," said Lady Royland.

  "Yes, mother," he replied, with a smile full of annoyance; "we mustwait, but I can't do it patiently. In the old days I could fish andclimb after the jackdaws' nests, and make excursions, and read; but Ican't do any of those things now. I only seem able to think aboutescaping."

  "Well, my boy," said Lady Royland, sadly--one day when Roy said this forperhaps the twentieth time, and she looked at him with a painedexpression in her eyes--"I know how hard it must be for a young bird tobeat its wings, shut in by a cage. Escape, then. You may be able tofind your father. But at the least you will be free."

  Roy thought of Pawson's words about his father's death, but mentallydeclared it was a lie like the other assertion, and burst out into amocking laugh, which made his mother look at him wonderingly.

  "Escape?" he said. "I say, mother, do you know I've often thought howeasily I could get on to the ramparts, slide down a rope, and swimacross the moat."

  "Yes, I am sure you could," she said, eagerly, but with the pain in hereyes growing plainer. "Well, it would be bitter for me to part withyou, but go."

  Roy laughed outright once more.

  "Why, you dear, darling, silly old mother!" he cried, flinging his armsabout her neck, and kissing her; "just as if I could go away and leaveyou here. I should look a nice young cavalier when I met my father--shouldn't I?--and he asked where I had left you. No! I'm onlygrumbling like old Ben does about being shut up, though General Hepburndoes treat us very well."

  "Yes; no gentleman could behave to us with more consideration, my boy."

  "But why doesn't father or the king, or some one of his officers, comeand attack this place? All this time gone by, and the general hereseems to hold the country for miles round, and all the gentry arefriendly to him. Do you know Parson Meldew was here yesterday to seethe beast?"

  Lady Royland looked at him wonderingly.

  "Well, I can't help calling him that. He is a beast, and he lives in aden. No one seems to associate with him. I believe he hates thegeneral, but the general told me one day that Pawson was not good enoughto hate."

  "Don't mention his name in my presence," said Lady Royland, sternly.

  The conversation came to an end, Roy walking off into the court-yard, agarden no longer, to see a squadron of horse drawn up before startingupon some reconnoissance.

  They rode out to the sound of the trumpet; and as the horses' hoofsechoed on the lowered bridge, and mingled with their snorting and thejingle of the accoutrements, Roy felt his heart burn within him, and thelonging to be free grew almost unbearable.

  As the drawbridge was raised again, a grunt behind him made the boy turnsharply, to face the old sergeant, who had come up, his step unheardamidst the tramping of the horses as they passed over the planks.

  "Sets one longing, sir, don't it?" said Ben.

  "Ay, it does," said Roy, sighing.

  "'Tick'larly at your age, sir. Why, I almost wish my wound hadn't gotwell. It did give me something to think about. If I go on with nothingto do much longer, they'll have to dig a hole to bury me."

  "Nonsense, Ben!"

  "No, it aren't nonsense, sir; for you see I always was a busy man. Nowthere's no armour to polish, no guns to look after, no powder-magazineto work at, and no one to drill. I'm just getting rusty, right throughto the heart."

  "But you've been weak and ill, Ben, and a rest does you good."

  "No, it don't, sir. Does t'others good; and thanks to my lady and thedoctor, every one's got well 'cept Sam Donny, whose leg is reg'lartwissen up like, and as if it would never come straight again. Seemsqueer, too, as a wound uppards should affect him so downards."

  "Oh, he'll be right when the war's over."

  "When it's over, sir? But when will that be?"

  "Ah! I don't know, Ben," said Roy, with a sigh. "But there, don'tfret. Take it easy for a bit, and grow strong."

  "I am strong, sir. Strong as a horse--but do I look like the sort ofman to take it easy? I've sat on that bench in the sun warming oneside, and turning and warming the other side, till I've felt as if Ihated myself. It aren't as if I could read. Begin to wish I could now,not as I ever knowed much good come out o' books."

  "Why, Ben!"

  "Ah, you may say `Why, Ben!' sir, but look what books'll bring a man to!Look at that there Fiddler Pawson. Shuts hisself up even now, doingnothing but read, and only comes out o' nights, and goes prowling roundthe ramparts like an old black tom-cat. You can often hear the sentrieschallenging him."

  "Oh, that's it, is it?" said Roy. "I've heard them challenge some onewhen I've been watching the stars."

  "What business have you watching the stars o' nights, sir?" said Ben,sourly.

  "Can't always sleep, Ben, for thinking."

  "Humph!" growled the man. "Howsoever, sir, I do live in hopes."

  "Yes; so do I."

  "Ah, not same as me, sir. I lives in hopes o' one o' the sentriesmaking a mistake some night."

  "And shooting him, Ben?"

  The sergeant winked, nodded, and rubbed his hands.

  "Only wish they'd put me on duty, sir."

  "You wouldn't shoot him, Ben, if they did."

  "Then I'd save the powder and bullet, sir, and pitch him into the moat,same as the enemy did a lot of our chaps--all them as didn't jump--butthey all got safe over, I suppose."

  Roy began to walk up and down with his companion, passing the otherprisoners from time to time on the wide bench in the corner; while oldJenk sat on the mossy stone steps at the foot of the sun-dial in themiddle of the court, one arm nursing his sword upon his knees, the otherembracing the lichen-covered pedestal against which he rested his head--no bad representation of old Father Time taking a nap.

  "Wish I could sleep like he does," growled Ben. "Nothing to do. Won'tlet me help any way. Tried to have a go in the armoury, but thatsergeant as went through the rat's hole with us grinned at me and turnedme out. Pah! I hate him! He's reg'lar took my job out o' my hands."

  "Patience, patience, Ben," said Roy.

  "Don't believe there's any o' that stuff left in the castle, Master Roy.What do you think they're doing?"

  "I don't know. What?"

  "Got big stones and mortar down in the hole in three places, ready tobuild it up. Done it by now, perhaps."

  "How do you know?"

  "Sergeant told me. Grinned at me and said they didn't mean to have anyone go out that way, nor yet come in at twelve o' clock at night."

  "Indeed!" said Roy, to whom this news was troublous, interfering as itdid with sundry misty notions in which he had indulged about retakingthe castle, or all making their escape.

  "Yes, sir; that general aren't a bit of a fool. Wouldn't be at all abad officer, if he was on the right side. That other chap wouldn't be abad sort o' sergeant either, if he knowed his duty to his king andcountry. But there's going to be a fight some day 'twix' him and me."

  "Nonsense! While we are prisoners we must behave ourselves, Ben."

  "Oh, must we, sir? What call's he got to get grinning at me? I'll makehim grin the wrong side of his mouth if he don't look out."

  "Yes; you are getting rusty, Ben," said Roy, merrily.

  "Then why don't you make some plan, sir?" whispered the old serge
ant inan earnest whisper. "Let's make a bold stroke for it, and retake thecastle. Think of what your father would say if you did. Why, if theking was to hear of it, he'd be that pleased, he'd send for you to thepalace and make a knight of you at once."

  "Poor king!" said Roy, sadly. "Perhaps by this time he has no palace tocall his own."

  "And he won't have, unless some of us shows we've got the right stuffleft in us."

  At that moment they were passing the sun-dial, and old Jenk started intowakefulness, rose, shaded his eyes, and stared at Roy.

  "That you, sir?"

  "Yes, Jenk."

  "So it be. How are you, Master Roy--how are you? I've been thinking adeal about you, sir. Don't you be downhearted; just wait a bit, andyou'll see."

  "See--see what, Jenk?"

  The old man shook his head and smiled in a cunning fashion.

  "You wait, sir, and you'll see," he said; and he sank down again, laidhis head against the pedestal, and went off fast asleep.

  "Yes, Master Roy, you'll see, and before many months have gone by," saidBen, solemnly. "Poor old Jenk! He's been a fine old soldier, and atrue follower of the house of Royland."

  "He has, Ben."

  "And he's going to be the first prisoner set free."

  He gave Roy a meaning look, and they separated, the lad to pass theother prisoners on the bench, and return their salutes as he went on tothe private apartments and made his way to his own room, to sit down bythe open window to try to think out some way of ending their captivityby turning the tables on the enemy.

  The day was warm, the thinking hard, and at last his brain refused towork any longer at the task of trying to do an impossible thing, theresult being that Roy suddenly opened his eyes after dreaming that somepeople were talking angrily in his room while he slept.

  But as he lay back, staring, and seeing that the room was empty, afamiliar and very stern voice came in through the window with thesewords, uttered in a perfectly unimpassioned voice, but one whichsuggested that against it there was no appeal:

  "I have listened to all you had to say, Master Pawson, and all yourcomplaints. Now, hear me: and you had better take my advice, with whichI shall conclude. In the first place, in accordance with myinstructions, I concluded that iniquitous bargain with you."

  "Iniquitous, sir?" cried Pawson, in his highly-pitched voice, which nowsounded quite a squeak.

  "Yes, iniquitous. What else do you call it to sell your honour for thesake of gain? Iniquitous, treacherous; it is all that, but war made ita stern necessity that we should listen to your proposals. You kept toyour terms; the new government will keep to its bargain. You willretain the castle and estate, but there was no question of time. Ishall hold this place as a centre as long as we find it necessary. Youcan stay here or go till we have left. If you stay, take the advice Igave you. Go to your room, and stay there always, save when, like someunclean beast of prey, you come out to prowl at night. For, though yourlife is safe, I tell you that there is not a soldier in my force whodoes not look upon you with contempt. In future, sir, if you wish tomake any communication to me, be good enough to write."

  Roy would have shrunk away, so as not to listen, but these words filledthe room in the silence of that afternoon, and the general's retiringsteps were plainly heard, followed by a low hissing sound, as of someone expiring his pent-up breath.

  Then a soft, cat-like step was heard, and Roy said to himself--

  "It seems as if Master Pawson's punishment has begun."