Crown and Sceptre: A West Country Story

father's regiment all through that busy day of advance, retreat,and skirmish; but the Forresters were held in reserve during the finalcharge which resulted in the scattering of the king's forces before thewarriors of the Parliament.

  The day was won, and pursuit was going on in all directions; but themain body of the Parliamentarians were camping for the night, and tentswere being set up, the wounded brought in, and strong parties engaged inburying the dead, while, as troop after troop returned with batches ofprisoners, these were placed under guard, after being carefullydisarmed.

  The Forresters had dismounted at the edge of a beautiful, grove-likepatch of timber at the foot of a hill. A stream of pure water babbledamong the rocks, and, as the soft summer evening came slowly on, thegrim, warlike aspect of the scene seemed to die out, and the smoke ofthe camp-fires, the pennons fluttering in the evening breeze, and theglinting of breastplate and morion formed a picture against thebackground of green, which might from a distance have been taken for oneof peace.

  Fred had dismounted, and, after taking off his heavy morion, which hewould never own was too big and uncomfortable to a degree, hung it fromthe pommel of his saddle, while he patted and made much of his horse,unbuckling the bit, and leading the handsome beast to where it couldmake a meal from the soft, green grass.

  "Poor old lad!" he said; "you must be nearly tired out."

  The horse whinnied, and began feeding at once, while, after watching themen making their preparations for the bivouac, Fred was about to throwhimself down, being too weary after his many hours in the saddle to carefor food, when his father rode up, followed by a couple of the officers.

  "Ah, Fred, my boy," he cried; "that's right: take care of your horse.There will be some supper ready in about half an hour. A glorious day,my boy, a glorious day; and I'm proud of the way you behaved!"

  "Are you, father," said Fred, sadly. "I don't think I have done much."

  "You have done all I could wish to see you do. But, there, I must goand see after our men. Come up to my quarters soon, and eat, and thenlie down and sleep. I may want you before long."

  "To go on guard, sir?"

  "No; for any little duty--to take charge of prisoners, perhaps. Whereis Samson?"

  "Gone, father."

  "What? Not killed?"

  "I hope not, father; but after that gallop, when we last changed front,I missed him, and, though we have searched, we can't find him. I'mafraid the enemy carried him off."

  "Poor lad! A brave fellow, Fred. There, I must go."

  "Shall I come with you now, father?"

  "No; lie down and rest till the meal is ready."

  Colonel Forrester rode off with his followers, and his son walkedwearily to where his horse was feeding, and led it where it could have ahearty drink of the pure water. Then, having turned it loose again, hethrew himself down, and lay gazing at the sunlit scene, wishing that thewar was over, and that he could go back to the dear old manor house, andenjoy the pleasures of home and peace.

  How beautiful it all looked, the golden sunshine glorifying theoak-trees with their tender leaves, and turning the pine trunksbronze-red! The films of wood smoke from the camp-fires spread in apale blue vapour, and the babbling stream flashed. But, restful as thescene was, and pleasant as the reclining posture was to his achingbones, Fred did not feel happy, for he knew that not far away men werelying in fever and weariness, cut, stabbed, trampled by horse hoof, andshattered by bullet, many of them waiting anxiously for death, the samedeath that had come upon so many of their fellows, who were lying starkon the field, or being hastily laid in rows in their shallow grave.

  "When will it all be over?" he said to himself. "I wonder where Scaris;" and then he thought how horrible it would be if ever he were tomeet his old friend in action.

  "And him with a sword in his hand and me with a sword in mine," hemuttered. "Should we fight? I suppose so," he added, after a fewmoments' thought. "We are enemies now."

  He started up on his elbow, for just then there was a cheer, insalutation of a man who was coming slowly up, leading his horse; and itonly needed a second glance to show that it was Samson.

  Fred forgot his weariness, sprang up, and ran toward his follower, whocaught sight of him directly, and hastened to meet him.

  "Oh!" ejaculated Fred, as he drew nearer and caught sight of the man'sface. "What a horrible wound! Samson, lad, we thought you a prisoner,or dead."

  "I arn't a prisoner, because I'm here," grumbled Samson; "and I arn'tdead yet, thank ye, Master Fred."

  "But your wound. Come on to the surgeon at once."

  "My wound, sir?"

  "Yes. Your face looks terrible. How did you manage to get here?"

  "Face looks terrible--manage to get here! I'll tell you, sir. A bigfellow with a broad grey hat and feathers, and all long hair and raggedlace, spurred at me, and, if I hadn't been tidy sharpish, he'd have rodeme down. Hit at me, too, he did, with his sword, and caught me on theshoulder, but it didn't cut through the leather; and, 'fore he could getanother cut at me, I give him a wipe on the head as made him rise up inhis sterrups and hit at me with his fist."

  "His fist, Samson?"

  "Yes, sir. There was his sword in it, of course, and the pommel hit meright on the nose; and before I could get over it, he was off along withthe rest, full gallop, and I was sitting on the ground, thinking aboutmy mother and what a mess I was in, and my horse looking as if he wasashamed of me, as I was of myself. I wonder he didn't gallop off, too;but I s'pose he thought he wouldn't get a better master."

  "But your face, Samson? It looks horrid."

  "Well, I can't help that, Master Fred, can I? Didn't make my own face.Good enough to come and fight with."

  "Come along with me to the surgeon."

  "What, and leave my horse? Not I, sir."

  "A man's wounds are of more consequence than a horse."

  "Who says so? I think a mortal deal more o' my horse than I do o' mywounds. 'Sides I arn't got no wounds."

  "You have, and don't know it. You have quite a mask of blood on yourface. It is hideous."

  "Yah! that's nothing. It's my nose. It always was a one to bleed.Whenever that brother o' mine, who went to grief and soldiering, used tomake me smell his fist, my nose always bled, and his fist was quite ashard as that hard-riding R'y'list chap's. Called me a Roundhead dog,too, he did, as he hit me. If I'd caught him, I'd ha' rounded his headfor him."

  "Yes, yes, of course, Samson; but come down to the stream, and batheyour face. Your horse is grazing now."

  "You're getting too vain and partic'lar, Master Fred," grumbled Samson."You're thinking of looking nice, like the R'y'lists, when you ought tobe proud of a little blood shed in the good cause."

  "I am proud and ready too, Samson; but come and wash your face."

  "I'll come," grumbled Samson; "and I never kears about washing myselfnow. Never a drop o' hot water, no towels, no soap, and no well, and nobuckets. Once a week seems quite enough, specially as you has to waittill you get dry."

  By a little persuasion, Samson was led to the stream, where he kneltdown and bathed his face, looking up to his master from time to time toask if that was better, the final result being that, beyond a littleswelling on one side, Samson's nose was none the worse for theencounter.

  "There!" he cried at last; "I suppose that will do, sir."

  "Yes, my lad, and I'm very, very glad you have escaped so well."

  "Oh, I've 'scaped well enough, Master Fred; deal better than I deserved.We're a wicked, bad, good-for-nothing family. Look at our Nat,fighting against his own brother."

  "It is very sad, Samson," said Fred; "but, remember, you are fightingagainst him."

  "That I arn't, sir. It's him fighting against me, and I only wish I mayrun against him some day. I'd make him so sore that he'll lie down andhowl for his mother, poor soul, and she breaking her heart about himturning out so badly; and, I say, Master Fred, if I don't have somethingto eat, I shall be only fit to bury
to-morrow."

  "Come with me, Samson; I'm going up to my father's quarters. I'll seethat you have plenty to eat, if there is anything."

  "Who'd be without a good master?" muttered Samson; and then aloud, "Herehe comes."

  For Colonel Forrester came cantering up.

  "Alive and well, Samson? Good lad! We couldn't spare you. Fred, myboy, news has come in that a little party of the enemy has taken