CHAPTER FORTY FIVE.
A TOWN CLEVERLY TAKEN.
About an hour after the capture of Kyrle's party, a body of horse,numbering over one hundred, might have been seen descending the Kymintowards Monmouth. The fury of the storm had worn itself out, thedownpour of rain being succeeded by a drizzle, while the lightning onlyflickered faintly, and at long intervals, the thunder muttering low anddistant. But the darkness was deep as ever, and the horsemen rode downthe steep incline at a slow, creeping pace, as if groping their way. Insilence too, neither word of command, nor note of bugle, directing theirmarch.
Had there been light enough to give a good view of them, it might havebeen guessed that something other than the darkness and difficulty ofthe path was causing them to advance in this noiseless, deliberatemanner. For at their head would have been seen Kyrle himself; noprisoner now, on parole or otherwise, but with sword restored, and inevery way acting as their commanding officer! And by his side one whocarried a troop flag, with a crown upon its field, the same which hadbeen left behind by the escaped cornet. The captured troopers werethere too--as at first glance any one would suppose--forming ahalf-score files in front of the marching line, with a like number inrear. Only in seeming, however--only their uniforms and equipments--forthey themselves were at that moment shut up in a cellar of High MeadowHouse, where Benedict Hall had erst incarcerated many a rebel andrecusant.
A different set of men were now wearing their doublets and carryingtheir accoutrements in the descent of the Kymin Hill, and any onefamiliar with the faces of Sir Richard Walwyn's Foresters would haverecognised some forty of them thus partially disguised, with nigh twiceas many more in their uniforms there, the last apparently disarmed andconducted as prisoners, their place being central in the line!
In rear of all was the knight himself, with his new troop captain,Harley; Sergeant Wilde and Hubert the trumpeter constituting the fileimmediately in front of them--all four, as the others, seemingly withoutarms.
That his oddly composed cohort had some strategic scheme in view wasevident from the cautious silence in which they advanced. And atintervals, Kyrle, reining his horse to one side, would wait till therearmost file came up; then, after exchanging a word or two with ColonelWalwyn, spur back to his place in the lead.
Thus noiselessly they descended the long, winding slope; but when nearits bottom, and within some three or four hundred yards of the bridge,all was changed. The troopers began to talk to one another, Kyrlehimself having given them the cue. Loudly and boisterously, with a toneof boasting, their speech interspersed with peals of light, joyouslaughter. All this meant for the ears of those on guard at the bridgegate.
A sufficiently strong force was stationed there, and with fair vigilancewere they guarding it. For although Massey had been reported as onhurried return to Gloucester, the fugitive cornet, having found his wayback, had brought with him a different tale. Afoot, and delayed bylosing his way, he had but just passed over the bridge and on to thecastle, after saying some words that left the guard in a state of alarm.
It was more bewilderment, as the men seemingly so merry drew near,invisible through the pitchlike darkness. At least a hundred there mustbe, as told by the pattering of their horses' hoofs on the firmcauseway. Kyrle's scouting party had gone out not half this number, yetthere was Kyrle himself, talking and laughing the loudest. Many of theguard--officers and soldiers--knew his voice well, and could not bemistaken about it. What then meant the sooner return of the cornet,without his standard, and with a tale of disaster? Had he retreatedfrom a conflict still undecided, afterwards ending in favour of theRoyalist forces? It might be so.
By this the approaching party had got nearly up to the gate, in front ofwhich the causeway showed a wide gap, and through it, far below, theflooded river surging angrily on. The officer in command of the guardwas about to call out, "Who comes?" when anticipated by a hail from theopposite side, pronounced in tone of demand,--"Hoi over there! Let thedrawbridge down!"
"For whom?"
"Kyrle and party. We've taken prisoners threescore Roundheads, and sentas many more to kingdom come. Be quick, and let us in. We're soakingwet, and hungry as wolves!"
"But, Colonel Kyrle," doubtingly objected the officer, "your cornet hasjust passed in, with the report that you and your party were madeprisoners! How is it--"
"Oh, he's got back, has he?" interrupted the ready Kyrle, though for aninstant non-plussed. "The coward! And double scoundrel, telling such atale to screen himself! Why, he dropped his standard at sight of theenemy, and skulked off before we had come to blows! Ah! I'll makeshort work of it with him."
While he was speaking there came a flash of lightning more vivid thanany that had late preceded, bright enough and sufficiently prolonged forthe soldiers on guard to see those on the other side of the chasmthroughout the whole extended line. In front some half-score files ofKyrle's Light Horse, whose uniform was well-known, with a like number inthe rear, and between, with heads drooped, and looking dejected, theprisoners he had spoken of.
The spectacle seemed to prove his words true. Under the circumstanceswho could think them false? Who suspect him of treason?
Not the officer in command of that guard, anyhow; who, without furtherhesitation or parley, gave orders for the lowering of the bridge.
Down it went, and over it rode a hundred and odd men, counting thesupposed Royalists and their unarmed prisoners. But soon as inside thegate, all seemed to be armed, prisoners as well as escort, the formersuddenly bristling with weapons, which they had drawn from under theirdoublets to the cry, "For God and Parliament!" The opposing shout, "ForGod and the King?" was stifled almost soon as raised, the bridge guardbeing instantly overpowered, many of them cut down, and killed outright.
Then a larger and heavier force, that had been following down the KyminHill, Massey's main body, came on at full gallop, over the drawbridgeand through the gate. There, taking up the cry, "God and Parliament!"they went rattling on through the streets of the town, clearing them ofall hostile opposition, and capturing everybody who showed a rag ofRoyalist uniform.
When the morning's sun rose over Monmouth, from its castle turretsfloated a flag very different from that hitherto waving there. Theglorious standard of Liberty had displaced the soiled and blood-stainedbanner of the Stuart Kings.