CHAPTER FORTY FOUR.
OUT IN THE STORM.
Though clear and placid had been the sky when the two colonels stood bythe Buckstone, in a few hours after it was all clouded. Night haddescended, but in addition to its natural darkness, the white fleecycumuli along the western horizon had turned black at the setting of thesun; then rolled upward, overspreading heaven's whole canopy as with apall. But the obscurity was not continuous. The extreme sultriness ofthe day had disturbed the electrical equilibrium of the atmosphere,resulting in a thunderstorm of unusual violence. At intervals vividsheets of lightning illumined the firmament, while red zig-zaggingbolts, like arrows on fire, pierced the opaque clouds, bringing downrain as at the Deluge.
Between the flashes all was darkness; so dense that a traveller on theForest roads must needs stop till the blaze came again, else run therisk of straying from the track, possibly to bring up against the trunkof a tree. But it was a night on which no traveller would think ofventuring forth, and one already on the road would make for the nearestshelter.
Yet were there traveller abroad, or at least men on horseback, whoneither sought this nor seemed to regard the raging elements. About amile from High Meadow House, on the Coleford Road, a party of four mightbe seen seated in the saddle under a spreading tree. That they were notsheltering from the rain could be told by its pouring down upon themthrough the leaves quickly as elsewhere, and their being already wet tothe skin. Shadow, for concealment, was evidently their object, thoughat intervals the lightning interfered with it. But they were in suchposition as to command a view of the road, and any one coming along it,before being themselves observed. As now and then the blue electriclight gleamed around them, it could be seen that they were in uniform--an officer and three common troopers, one with trumpet in hand--whiletheir attitude of listening proclaimed them on picket duty. A videtteit was, stationed to watch the approaches and give warning to a largerforce.
Another might have been found at no great distance off, in a sequesteredglade of the forest, some hundreds of horsemen, who, as the party underthe tree, were all in their saddles, and alike disregarding the rain.Silent as spectres were they, here and there only a muttered word, withthe champing of bits, and occasionally the louder clink of scabbardagainst stirrup as some horse shied at the blinding flash.
They, too, seemed listening, as indeed were they--especially a group ofofficers near the outgoing of the glade--listening for a signalpreconcerted, and expected to come from the trumpeter under the tree.
Nor were these the only soldiers abroad and voluntarily exposingthemselves to that drenching storm. While it was at its worst, a partyof Horse issued out of Monmouth, and, crossing the Wye bridge, took theroute up Kymin Hill. A small body it was, about forty in all, with buttwo officers--he who commanded and a cornet, their arms andaccoutrements, as the light caparison of their horses, proclaiming themon scout.
As the lightning flashed upon a banneret carried by the cornet, it couldbe seen to bear the emblem of a crown, while other specialities ofuniform and equipment betokened the little troop as belonging to thearmy of the King, and therefore hostile to those halted in the forestglade, whose insignia told them to be of the opposite party.
It wanted an hour or more of midnight when the party from Monmouth,after surmounting the Kymin steep, entered Staunton--to find thevillagers still awake and stirring. They had received news of Massey'sdeparture from the neighbourhood, so hastily as to seem a retreat, and,indeed, knew the reason, or supposed they did, from the contents of thatColeford despatch. Most of them being of Royalist proclivities, theywere sitting up in jubilance over the event.
The soldiers made but short halt among them; just long enough to getanswer to some inquiries; then on to High Meadow House.
Why thither none of the rank and file knew, not even the cornet. Alonetheir commanding officer, who kept the true reason to himself, giving aspurious one--that his object was to make sure of the place being inreality abandoned. A weak force as they were, it would not do toadvance farther along the Coleford road, should there chance to be anenemy in their rear.
This seemed reasonable enough, nor were the men loth to accept it. Onsuch a night shelter was above all things desirable, and they were sureto find snug quarters at the mansion of High Meadow, hoping theircommander would let them stay there till the storm came to an end.
Just as they turned off the high road, or scarce a minute after, asolitary figure came gliding along from the Staunton side, and passed ontowards Coleford. Afoot it was, wrapped in a cloak, with hood, which,covering the head, left visible only a portion of the face. Tall, andof masculine proportions, otherwise it might have been taken as thefigure of a man, but for a certain boldness, yet softness of outline,which betokened it that of a woman. And a woman it was--the cadgeress.
She had followed the Royalist troopers from Staunton, silently,stealthily, and at safe distance behind. But as they turned off themain road, she, still keeping to it, broke into a run, not slowing againtill she stood under the tree where the four Parliamentarians were onpicket. By the fitful flashes these had seen her making approach, atleast three of the four knowing who it was--Sir Richard Walwyn; he whohad the trumpet, Hubert; and one of the troopers, wearing the _chevrons_of a sergeant, Rob Wilde.
That she in turn recognised them, and had been expecting to find themthere, was evinced by her behaviour. For when she thought herselfwithin hearing, she called out,--
"Cavalieres turned off and goed for High Meadow House. 'Bout fortytheys be in all."
"Sound the signal, Hubert!" said Sir Richard, in command to histrumpeter, adding to the big sergeant, "Ride back, Rob, and tell CaptainHarley to bring on our men as rapidly as possible."
The lightning still flashed and forked, with loud thunder, now in quickclaps, now in prolonged reverberation. But between came the notes of acavalry bugle, in calls, which, reaching the glade where Massey's mensat waiting in their saddles, caused a pricking of spurs, and a quickforward movement at the command, "March!"--word most welcome to all.
Meanwhile, the soldiers from Monmouth had reached Hall's house to findno enemy there, only some servants, who at first took them for areturned party of Parliamentarians. But the steward, who had beendetained on the way, riding up the instant after, reassured thefrightened domestics.
Besides what these had to tell, there were other evidences of thehurried evacuation. On tables everywhere was a spread of viands onlypartially consumed, with tankards of ale unemptied, and inside the housebottles of wine, some yet uncorked.
The Cavalier soldiers were not the sort to hasten away and leave suchtempting commodities untouched. And, as their commanding officer seemednot objecting, they were out of their saddles in a trice, eating anddrinking as though they had that day gone without either breakfast ordinner.
The stable mangers, too, were full of beans and barley, left uneaten bythe horses of the Parliamentarians, to which their own animals fell witha hungry voracity equalling that of their masters.
Short time was allowed them for this greedy gormandising. Scarce hadthey taken seat by the tables when a trampling of hoofs was heard allaround the house, louder on the stone pavement by the gate, from whichcame the shout "Surrender!" the same voice adding, "'Twill be idle foryou to resist. We are Massey's men, and fifty to your one. If you wishyour lives spared, cry `Quarter,' or we cut you to pieces."
The carousing Royalists were taken completely by surprise. In fanciedsecurity, thinking the Parliamentarian force _en route_ for Gloucester,and far on the way, they had neither placed picket nor set sentry; andthe house being fortified, there was no exit from it save by the onegate, now blocked up, as they could see, by a solid body of horse. Theywere literally in a trap, with no chance to get out of it, for, by themultitudinous hoof-clattering outside, they knew the words "fifty toone" were not far from the truth.
Alone, the cornet got off afoot by a desperate leap into the ditch atback; stealing away unseen in the dar
kness. The rest made no attempt,either at escape or resistance. They but stood, terror-stricken, tohear the threat--
"Speak, quick, or we open fire on you!" Then, at least, half of themcalled out "Quarter!" without waiting word or sign from their leader.
What followed, however, showed that he sanctioned it. As theParliamentarian troopers came riding in through the gate he advanced tomeet them, with drawn sword, hilt outward, which he handed to theofficer at their head.
As the latter took it, a smile of peculiar significance was exchangedbetween the two, with words equally strange, inaudible save tothemselves.
"Glad to have you back with us, Kyrle."
"Not more than I to get back, Walwyn. God knows! I've had enough ofRupert, and his rascals."