CHAPTER SIXTY FIVE.
VERY NEAR AN ENCOUNTER.
Mitcheldean lies at the foot of the steep _facade_ already spoken of asforming a periphery to the elevated Forest district. The slope ascendsdirect from the western skirts of the little town; but outlying ridgesalso inclose it on the north, east, and south, so that even the tallspire of its church is invisible from any great distance. So situated,railways give it a wide berth; and few places better deserve the title"secluded." The only sort of traveller who ever thinks of paying it avisit is the "commercial," or some pedestrian tourist, crossing theForest from the Severn side to view the more picturesque scenery of theWye, with intention to make stoppage at the ancient hostelry of theSpeech House, midway between.
In the days of the saddle and pack-horse, however, things were differentwith Mitcheldean. Being on one of the direct routes of travel from themetropolis to South Wales, and a gate of entry, as it were, to theForest on its eastern side, it was then a place of considerable note;its people accustomed to all sorts of wayfarers passing daily, hourlythrough it.
Since the breaking out of the Rebellion these had been mostly of themilitary kind, though not confined to either party in the strife. Onewould march through to-day, the other to-morrow; so that, hearing thetrample of hoofs, rarely could the townsmen tell whether Royalists orParliamentarians were coming among them, till they saw their standardsin the street.
They would rather have received visit from neither; but, compelled tochoose, preferred seeing the soldiers of the Parliament. So whenWalwyn's Horse came rattling along, their green coats, with thecocks'-tail feathers in their hats, distinguishable in the clearmoonlight, the closed window shutters were flung open; and night-cappedheads--for most had been abed--appeared in them without fear exchangingspeech with the soldiers halted in the street below.
Altogether different their behaviour when, in a matter of ten minutesafter, a second party of horsemen came to a halt under their windows;these in scarlet coats, gold laced, with white ostrich feathers in theirhats--the Prince of Wales's plume, with its appropriate motto ofservility, "_Ich dien_."
Seeing it, the townsmen drew in their heads, closed the shutters, andwere silent. Not going back to their beds, however; but to sit up infear and trembling, till the renewed hoof-strokes told them of the haltover, and the red-coated Cavaliers ridden off again.
It need scarce be said that these were Rupert and his escort, _en route_for Westbury; and had Walwyn's Horse stopped ten minutes longer inMitcheldean, the two bodies would have there met face to face; sincethey were proceeding in opposite directions. A mere accident hinderedtheir encountering; the circumstance, that from the town two roads ledup to the Forest, one on each side of the Wilderness, both again unitingin the valley of Drybrook. The northern route had been taken by theParliamentarian party ascending; while the Royalists descended by thesouthern one, called the "Plump Hill." Just at such time as to miss oneanother, though but by a few minutes. For the rearmost files of theformer had barely cleared the skirts of the town going out, when the vanof the latter entered it at a different point.
The interval, however, was long enough to prevent those who wentForestwards from getting information of what they were leaving so closebehind. Could they have had that, quick would have been their returndown hill, and the streets of Mitcheldean the arena of a conflict to thecry, "No Quarter!"
As it was, the hostile cohorts passed peacefully through, out, andonwards on their respective routes; though Prince Rupert knew how nearhe had been to a collision, and could still have brought it on. Butthat was the last thing in his thoughts; instead, soon as learning whathad gone up to the Forest, who they were, and who their leader, his stayin Mitcheldean was of the shortest, and his way out of it notForestwards but straight on for the Severn.
And in all the haste he could make, cumbered as he was with captives.For he carried with him a captive train; a small one, consisting of butthree individuals--scarce necessary to say, Ambrose Powell and hisdaughters. They were on horseback; the ladies wrapped in cloaks, and soclose hooded that their faces were invisible. Even their figures wereso draped as to be scarce distinguishable from those of men; all donewith a design, not their own; but that of those who had them in charge.In passing through Mitcheldean precautions had been taken to hindertheir being recognised; double files of their guards riding in closeorder on each side of them, so that curious eyes should not come toonear. But, when once more out on the country road, the formation "bytwos" was resumed; the trio of prisoners, each with a trooper right andleft, conducted behind the knot of officers on the Prince's personalstaff, he himself with Lunsford leading.
Soon as outside the town the two last, as usual riding together, andsome paces in the advance, entered on dialogue of a confidentialcharacter. The Prince commenced it, saying,--
"We've had a narrow escape, Sir Thomas."
"Does your Highness refer to our having missed meeting the party ofRoundheads?"
"Of course I do--just that."
"Then, I should say, 'tis they who've had the narrow escape."
"_Nein_, Colonel! Not so certain of that, knowing who they are. TheseForesters fight like devils; and, from all I could gather, they greatlyoutnumber us. I shouldn't so much mind the odds, but for how we'rehampered. To have fought them, and got the worst of it, would have beenruinous to our reputation--as to the other thing."
"It isn't likely we'd have got the worst of it. Few get the better ofyour Highness that way."
Lunsford's brave talk was not in keeping with his thoughts. Quite aspleased was he as the Prince at their having escaped an encounter withthe party of Parliamentarians. For never man dreaded meeting man morethan he Sir Richard Walwyn. Words had of late been conveyed to him--from camp to camp and across neutral lines--warning words, that his oldenemy was more than ever incensed against him, and in any futureconflict where the two should be engaged meant singling him out, andseeking his life. After what he had done now, was still doing, he knewanother encounter with Walwyn would be one of life and death, anddreaded it accordingly.
"Still, Prince," he added, "as you observe, considering ourencumbrances, perhaps it's been for the best letting them off."
"Ay, if they let us off. Which they may not yet. Suppose some of thetownsmen have followed, and told them of our passing through?"
"No fear of that, Prince. If any one did follow it's not likely theycould be overtaken. They were riding as in a race, and won't drawbridle till they see the blaze over Hollymead. Then they'll but gallopthe faster--in the wrong direction."
"The right one for us, if they do. But even so they would reachHollymead in less than an hour; then turn short round to pursue, and inanother hour be upon our heels. You forget that we can't say safety,till we're over the Severn."
"I don't forget that, Prince. But they won't turn round to pursue us."
"Why say you that, Sir Thomas? How know you they won't?"
"Because they won't suspect our having come this way; never think of it.Before putting the torch to the old delinquent's house, I took theprecaution to have all his domestics locked up in an out-building; thatthey shouldn't see which way we went off. As they and the Ruardeanpeople knew we came up from Monmouth, they'll naturally conclude that wereturned thither. So, your Highness, any pursuit of us will take thedirection down Cat's Hill, instead of by Drybrook and down the Plump."
"Egad! I hope so, Colonel. For, to speak truth I don't feel in thespirit for a fight just now."
It was not often Rupert gave way to cowardice, and more seldom confessedit; even in confidence to his familiars, of whom Lunsford was one of themost intimate. But at that hour he felt it to very fear. Perhaps fromthe wine he had drunk at Hollymead, now cold in him; and it might be hisconscience weighted with the crime he was in the act of committing.Whatever the cause, his nervousness became heightened rather thandiminished, as they marched on; and anxiously longed he to be on theother side of the Severn.
N
ot more so than his reprobate companion, whose bravado was all assumed;his words of confidence forced from him to gloss over the mistake he hadmade, in recommending the route taken. Sorry was he now, as hissuperior, they had not gone by Monmouth. Within its Castle walls theywould at that moment have been safe; instead of hurrying along a road,with the obstruction of a river in front, and the possibility of pursuitbehind. Ay, the probability of it, as Lunsford himself knew well,feigning to ignore it.
"In any case, your Highness," he continued, in the same strain ofencouragement, "we'll be out of their way in good time. From here it'sbut a step down to Westbury."
By this they had reached the head of the ravine-like valley in whichstands Flaxley Abbey, and were hastening forward fast as the_impedimenta_ of captives would permit. The road runs down the valley,which, after several sinuosities, debouches on the Severn's plain. But,long before attaining this, at rounding one of the turns, their eyeswere greeted by a sight which sent tremor to their hearts.
"_Mein Gott_!" cried the Prince, suddenly reining up, and speaking in atone of mingled surprise and alarm, "you see, Sir Thomas?"
Sir Thomas did see--sharing the other's alarm, but without showing it--asheet of water that shone silvery white under the moonlightoverspreading all the plain below. The river aflood, and inundationeverywhere!
"We'll not be able to cross at all?" pursued the Prince, in despondinginterrogative. "Shall we?"
"Oh yes! your Highness, I think so," was the doubting response. "Thewater can't be so high as to hinder us; at least not likely. There's apier-head at Westbury Passage on both sides, and the boats will be thereas ever. I don't anticipate any great difficulty in the crossing, onlywe'll have to wade a bit."
"_Gott_! that will be difficulty enough--danger too."
"What danger, your Highness? Through the meadows there's a raisedcauseway, and fortunately I'm familiar with every inch of it. Whilewith Sir John Wintour I had often occasion to travel it; more than onceunder water. Even if we can't make the Westbury Passage, we can that ofFramilode, but a mile or two above. I've never heard of it being soflooded as to prevent passing over."
"It may be as you say, Sir Thomas. But the danger I'm thinking of hasmore to do with time than floods. Wading's slow work; and there's stillthe possibility of Walwyn and his green-coats coming on after us.Suppose they should, and find us floundering through the water?"
"No need supposing that, Prince. There isn't the slightest likelihoodof it. I'd stake high that at this minute they're at the bottom ofCat's Hill, or, it may be, by Goodrich Ferry, seeking to cross over theWye as we the Severn. And, like as not, Lingen will give them a turn ifhe gets word of their being about there. Sir Harry has now a strongforce in the castle; and owes Dick Walwyn a _revanche_--for that affairon the Hereford Road the morning after Kyrle led them into Monmouth."
"For all, I wish we had gone Monmouth way," rejoined Rupert, as his eyesrested doubtingly on the white sheet of water wide spread over the plainbelow. "I still fear their pursuing us."
"Even if they should, your Highness, we need have no apprehension. Thepursuit can't be immediate; and, please God, in another hour or so,we'll be over the Severn, as likely they on the other side of the Wye,with both rivers between them and us."
"Would that I were sure of that, Colonel," returned the Prince, stilldesponding, "which I'm not. However, we've no alternative now but tocross here--if we can. You seem to have a doubt of our being able tomake the Passage of Westbury?"
"I'm only a little uncertain about it, your Highness."
"But sure about that of Framilode?"
"Quite; though the flood be of the biggest and deepest."
"_Sehr wohl_! with that assurance I'm satisfied. But we must havethings secure behind, ere we commence making our wade. And we may aswell take the step now. So, Colonel, ride back along the line, detach arear-guard, and place it under some officer who can be trusted. Losenot a moment! stay at halt here, till you return to me."
The commanding officer of the escort, as much alive to the prudence ofthis precaution as he who gave the orders for it, hastened to carryingthem out. Done by detailing off a few of the rearmost files, withdirections to remain as they were, while the main body moved forward.Then instructions given to the officer who was to take charge of them;all occupying less than ten minutes' time.
After which, Lunsford again placed himself by the side of the Prince,and the march was immediately resumed, down the valley of Flaxley, onfor the flooded plain.