CHAPTER SIXTY.
QUARTERED UPON THE ENEMY.
Night had descended over Hollymead. A dark night, too, though there wasno lack of light inside the house or around it. Nearing November theatmosphere had a frosty feel, and great wood fires were burning in thewide chimney places of the reception rooms. Without, in the centre ofthe courtyard, a very bonfire had been kindled, which sent its red glareand glow to the most distant corner of the inclosure. Around this wereseated or standing, in every variety of attitude, such of the commonsoldiers of the escort as were not upon duty. Carousing, of course.For the rank and file of the Royalist army, especially that portion ofit which acted under Rupert, followed the fashion of their officers; andone of the affectations of Cavalierism was to display a superiorcapacity for indulgence in drink.
About the house they had found the wherewithal to give them a goodsupper, with more than drink enough to wash it down. For when Monmouthfell into the hands of the Parliamentarians, the Master of Hollymead,thinking it safe, had done something to restock his pastures, as alsoreplenish larder and cellars! And once more these were in the way ofgetting speedily depleted; the thirsty troopers around the courtyardfire quaffing at free tap from a cask of ale they had rolled out uponthe pavement; while they bandied coarse jests, told indecent stories, orsang songs of like character, roaring in chorus.
Inside there was revelry also. Of a less rude kind; still revelry, andcoarse enough, considering that they who indulged in it composed the_entourage_ of a Prince. In the dining-hall was it being held, around atable on which stood a varied assortment of bottles and decanters,goblets and glasses. There had been a repast upon it, that samedinner-supper; but the dishes and _debris_ of solids had been removed,and only the drinking materials remained. Nearly a score of guestsencircled it, all gentlemen; and all in military uniform--being theofficers of the escort--not a man in citizen garb seen among them. Forthe master of the house was not at the head of his own table, as mighthave been expected. Instead, shut up in one of the rooms adjacent; itsdoor locked, and a sentry stationed outside!
His daughters were upstairs, in their private apartment, from which theyhad never come down. Through the window they had seen their fatherbrought back under guard, as a felon; saw it with indignation, but alsofear. Greater became the last, when told they could not hold speechwith him, or have access to the room in which he was confined. Deniedinterview with their own father, in their own house! Inhumanity thataugured ill for what was to come after.
What this might be they could neither tell nor guess. They even fearedto reflect upon it; trembling at every footstep on the stairs. Thoughno key had been turned upon them, nor sentry set at their door, theywere as much imprisoned as their father. For the Prince's retinue ofservants filled the house, tramping and roaming about everywhere, andbullying the family domestics. It was not safe to go out among them;and the young ladies had locked themselves up, dreading insult, if notabsolute outrage. Even Gwenthian dared not trust herself downstairs,and shared their confinement.
What did it all mean? Why such change in the behaviour of the Prince,so late pretending amiability? For his people must have sanction, orthey would not be so acting.
The explanation was simple, withal. Shortly after Rupert's arrival atHollymead, a courier, who had followed him from Monmouth, broughttidings of another Royalist reverse--Chepstow, with its castle, taken orclosely beleaguered. Exasperated by the intelligence, he no longerresisted the wicked proposals of Lunsford, but gave willing assent tothem. And now, having thrown off the mask, he had determined on takingthe whole Powell family back with him to Bristol. As his prisoner therehe could do with the "bit of saucy sweetness" as it might please him; ashe had done with many other unfortunate women whom the chances of warhad brought within his wanton embrace.
It had been all settled, save some details about the departure fromHollymead, the time, and the return route. These were now beingdiscussed between him and the commanding officer of his escort, as theysate at a side table to which they had temporarily withdrawn, to be outof earshot, of the others.
"Should we remain here for the night, _mein_ Colonel, or make back toMonmouth? We can get there before midnight."
"That we could, easily enough, your Highness. But why go by Monmouth atall?"
"Why not?"
"There are two reasons against it, Prince. Both good ones."
"Give them, Sir Thomas."
"If it be true that Chepstow's lost to us, there may be a difficulty inour crossing the Wye down there. Or getting over to the Aust passage ofthe Severn, with such a weak force as attends your Highness."
"_Gott_! yes; I perceive that. But what's your other reason againstMonmouth way?"
"A more delicate one. To pass through that town with such a captivetrain as your Highness will have might give tongue for scandal. Thevenerable Marquis of Worcester is rather squeamish; besides not beingyour best friend. You know that, Prince?"
"I do know it, and will some day make him sorry for it, the old Papisthypocrite. But what other route would you have us take?"
"Down through the Forest direct, and across the Severn, either atNewnham or Westbury. There's a ferry at both places, with horse-boatsenough to take us all over in a trip or two. We may reach BerkeleyCastle before daylight; where, if it be your Highness's pleasure to lieup for the day, you could enter Bristol on the following night withoutall the world being the wiser as to the sort of prisoners we carriedin."
"Egad! your reasons are good. I'm inclined to follow your advice, andreturn by the route you speak of. Are you well acquainted with it,_mein_ Colonel?"
"Reasonably well, your Highness. But Captain Trevor knows it betterthan I. He was longer with Sir John Wintour, and is familiar with everycrook and turn of the Forest roads in that quarter. There can be nodanger of our going astray."
"But the night's dark as pitch. So one has just told me."
"True it is now, your Highness. But there'll be a moon this sidemidnight, and that will be time enough to start. We can make Berkeleybefore morning--prisoners, crossing the Severn, and all delaysnotwithstanding. Next night your Highness may sleep in your own bedwithin the walls of Bristol Castle, with a sweet creature to share it--whom I need not designate by name."
"She _shall_ share it!" rejoined the Royal reprobate, in reckless, butdetermined tone, his wicked passions fired by the wine he had beendrinking. "And we go that way, Colonel. So see that all be ready forthe route soon as the moon shows her sweet face. Meanwhile, let us backto our comrades and be merry."
Saying which he returned to the chair he had vacated at the head of thetable, the other along with him; then, grasping a filled goblet, hecalled out the Cavalier's orthodox sentiment "The Wenches!" adding,--
"Colonel Lunsford will respond with a song, gentlemen!"
Which the Colonel did; giving that they liked best, with a chorus theycould all join in,--
"We'll drink, drink; And our goblets clink, Quaffing the blood-red wine. The wenches we'll toast, And the Roundheads we'll roast, The Croppies and all their kind."
The coarse refrain, with the ribald jests that followed it, could beheard all over the house, reaching the ears of its imprisoned owner.Even those of his daughters, more distant, did not escape being offendedby them. No wonder at both having in their hearts, if not on theirlips, the prayer,--"God speed Win upon her errand!"