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Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War

by G. A. Henty · English · Gutenberg #11565 · 591,052 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War

Author: G. A. Henty


        
Release date: March 1, 2004 [eBook #11565]
                Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRIENDS, THOUGH DIVIDED: A TALE OF THE CIVIL WAR ***

FRIENDS THOUGH DIVIDED


A TALE OF THE CIVIL WAR

BY

G.A. HENTY


AUTHOR OF "IN TIMES OF PERIL," "THE YOUNG FRANCTIREURS,"
"THE YOUNG BUGLERS," ETC, ETC.




PREFACE


My dear lads: Although so long a time has elapsed since the great civil
war in England, men are still almost as much divided as they were then
as to the merits of the quarrel, almost as warm partisans of the one
side or the other. Most of you will probably have formed an opinion as
to the rights of the case, either from your own reading, or from hearing
the views of your elders.

For my part, I have endeavored to hold the scales equally, to relate
historical facts with absolute accuracy, and to show how much of right
and how much of wrong there was upon either side. Upon the one hand, the
king by his instability, bad faith, and duplicity alienated his best
friends, and drove the Commons to far greater lengths than they had at
first dreamed of. Upon the other hand, the struggle, begun only to win
constitutional rights, ended--owing to the ambition, fanaticism, and
determination to override all rights and all opinions save their own, of
a numerically insignificant minority of the Commons, backed by the
strength of the army--in the establishment of the most complete
despotism England has ever seen.

It may no doubt be considered a failing on my part that one of my heroes
has a very undue preponderance of adventure over the other. This I
regret; but after the scale of victory turned, those on the winning side
had little to do or to suffer, and one's interest is certainly with the
hunted fugitive, or the slave in the Bermudas, rather than with the
prosperous and well-to-do citizen.

Yours very sincerely,

G.A. HENTY.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER I. The Eve of the War

CHAPTER II. For the King

CHAPTER III. A Brawl at Oxford

CHAPTER IV. Breaking Prison

CHAPTER V. A Mission of State

CHAPTER VI. A Narrow Escape

CHAPTER VII. In a Hot Place

CHAPTER VIII. The Defense of an Outpost

CHAPTER IX. A Stubborn Defense

CHAPTER X. The Commissioner of the Convention

CHAPTER XI. Montrose

CHAPTER XII. An Escape from Prison

CHAPTER XIII. Public Events

CHAPTER XIV. An Attempt to Rescue the King

CHAPTER XV. A Riot in the City

CHAPTER XVI. The Execution of King Charles

CHAPTER XVII. The Siege of Drogheda

CHAPTER XVIII. Slaves in the Bermudas

CHAPTER XIX. A Sea Fight

CHAPTER XX. With the Scotch Army

CHAPTER XXI. The Path Across the Morass

CHAPTER XXII. Kidnaped

CHAPTER XXIII. The Battle of Worcester

CHAPTER XXIV. Across the Sea.

CHAPTER XXV. A Plot Overheard

CHAPTER XXVI. Rest at Last




FRIENDS, THOUGH DIVIDED.




CHAPTER I.

THE EVE OF THE WAR.


It was a pleasant afternoon in the month of July, 1642, when three young
people sat together on a shady bank at the edge of a wood some three
miles from Oxford. The country was undulating and picturesque, and a
little more than a mile in front of them rose the lofty spire of St.
Helen's, Abingdon. The party consisted of two lads, who were about
fifteen years of age, and a girl of ten. The lads, although of about the
same height and build, were singularly unlike. Herbert Rippinghall was
dark and grave, his dress somber in hue, but good in material and well
made. Harry Furness was a fair and merry-looking boy; good humor was the
distinguishing characteristic of his face; his somewhat bright and
fashionably cut clothes were carelessly put on, and it was clear that no
thought of his own appearance or good looks entered his mind. He wore
his hair in ringlets, and had on his head a broad hat of felt with a
white feather, while his companion wore a plain cap, and his hair was
cut closely to his head.

"It is a bad business, Harry," the latter said, "but, there is one
satisfaction that, come what may, nothing can disturb our friendship. We
have never had a quarrel since we first met at the old school down
there, six years ago. We have been dear friends always, and my only
regret has been that your laziness has prevented our being rivals, for
neither would have grudged the other victory."

"No, indeed, Herbert. But there was never a chance of that. You have
always been Mr. Gregory's prize boy, and are now head of the school;
while I have always been in his bad books. But, as you say, Herbert, we
have been dear friends, and, come what will, we'll continue so. We
cannot agree on the state of the kingdom, and shall never do so. We have
both taken our views from our parents; and indeed it seems to me that
the question is far too difficult a one for boys like us to form any
opinion of it. When we see some of the best and wisest in the land
ranging themselves on either side, it is clear that even such a wise
noddle as yours--to say nothing of a feather brain like mine--cannot
form any opinion on a subject which perplexes our elders and betters."

"That is true, Harry; but still--"

"No, no, Herbert, we will have no argument. You have the best of it
there, and I fall back upon authority. My father, the colonel, is for
the king; yours for the Parliament. He says that there are faults on
both sides, and indeed, for years he favored the Commons. The king's
acts were unconstitutional and tyrannical, and my father approved of the
bold stand which Sir George Elliot made against him. Now, however, all
this has been changed, he tells me, and the Commons seek to rule without
either king or peers. They have sought to impose conditions which would
render them the lords absolute of England, and reduce the king to a mere
puppet. They have, too, attacked the Church, would abolish bishops, and
interfere in all matters spiritual. Therefore, my father, while
acknowledging the faults which the king has committed, and grieving
over the acts which have driven the Parliament to taking up a hostile
attitude to him, yet holds it his duty to support him against the
violent men who have now assumed power, and who are aiming at the
subversion of the constitution and the loss of the country."

"I fear, also," Herbert said, "that the Commons have gone grievously
beyond their rights, although, did my father hear me say so, I should
fall under his gravest displeasure. But he holds that it is necessary
that there should be an ecclesiastical sweep, that the prelates should
have no more power in the land, that popery should be put down with an
iron hand, and that, since kings cannot be trusted to govern well, all
power should be placed in the hands of the people. My own thoughts do
incline toward his; but, as you say, when one sees men like my Lord
Falkland, who have hitherto stood among the foremost in the ranks of
those who demand that the king shall govern according to law, now siding
with him against them, one cannot but feel how grave are the
difficulties, and how much is to be said on either side. How is one to
choose? The king is overbearing, haughty, and untrue to his word. The
Parliament is stiff-necked and bent upon acquiring power beyond what is
fair and right. There are, indeed, grievous faults on both sides. But it
seems to me that should the king now have his way and conquer the
Commons, he and his descendants will henceforth govern as absolute
monarchs, and the liberty of the people will be endangered; while on the
other hand, should the Parliament gain the upper hand, they will place
on a firm basis the liberties of Englishmen, and any excesses which they
may commit will be controlled and modified by a future parliament, for
the people of England will no more suffer tyranny on the part of the
Commons than of the king; but while they cannot change the one, it is
in their power to elect whom they will, and to send up men who will
govern things moderately and wisely."

"At any rate," Harry said, "my father thinks that there is neither
moderation nor wisdom among the zealots at Westminster; and as I hear
that many nobles and country gentlemen throughout England are of the
same opinion, methinks that though at present the Parliament have the
best of it, and have seized Portsmouth, and the Tower, and all the
depots of arms, yet that in the end the king will prevail against them."

"I trust," Herbert continued earnestly, "that there will be no fighting.
England has known no civil wars since the days of the Roses, and when we
see how France and Germany are torn by internal dissensions, we should
be happy indeed that England has so long escaped such a scourge. It is
indeed sad to think that friends should be arrayed against each other in
a quarrel in which both sides are in the wrong."

"I hope," Harry said, "that if they needs must fight, it will soon be
over, whichever way fortune may turn."

"I think not," Herbert answered. "It is a war of religion as much as a
war for power. The king and the Commons may strive who shall govern the
realm; but the people who will take up arms will do it more for the
triumph of Protestantism than for that of Pym and Hampden."

"How tiresome you both are," Lucy Rippinghall interrupted, pouting. "You
brought me out to gather flowers, and you do nothing but talk of kings
and Parliament, as if I cared for them. I call it very rude. Herbert is
often forgetful, and thinks of his books more than of me; but you,
Master Harry, are always polite and gentle, and I marvel much that you
should be so changed to-day."

"Forgive me," Harry said, smiling. "We have been very remiss, Miss
Lucy; but we will have no more of high politics, and will, even if never
again," he said sadly, "devote all our energies to getting such a basket
of flowers for you as may fill your rooms with beaupots. Now, if your
majesty is ready to begin, we are your most obedient servants."

And so, with a laugh, the little party rose to their feet, and started
in quest of wild flowers.

The condition of affairs was at the outbreak of the civil war such as
might well puzzle older heads than those of Harry Furness or Herbert
Rippinghall, to choose between the two powers who were gathering arms.

The foundations of the difficulty had been laid in the reign of King
James. That monarch, who in figure, manners, and mind was in the
strongest contrast to all the English kings who had preceded him, was
infinitely more mischievous than a more foolish monarch could have been.
Coarse in manner--a buffoon in demeanor--so weak, that in many matters
he suffered himself to be a puppet in the hands of the profligates who
surrounded him, he had yet a certain amount of cleverness, and an
obstinacy which nothing could overcome. He brought with him from
Scotland an overweening opinion of the power and dignity of his position
as a king. The words--absolute monarchy--had hitherto meant only a
monarch free from foreign interference; to James they meant a monarchy
free from interference on the part of Lords or Commons. He believed
implicitly in the divine right of kings to do just as they chose, and in
all things, secular and ecclesiastical, to impose their will upon their
subjects.

At that time, upon the Continent, the struggle of Protestantism and
Catholicism was being fought out everywhere. In France the Huguenots
were gradually losing ground, and were soon to be extirpated. In
Germany the Protestant princes had lost ground. Austria, at one time
halting between two opinions, had now espoused vehemently the side of
the pope, and save in Holland and Switzerland, Catholicism was
triumphing all along the line. While the sympathies of the people of
England were strongly in favor of their co-religionists upon the
Continent, those of James inclined toward Catholicism, and in all
matters ecclesiastical he was at variance with his subjects. What
caused, if possible, an even deeper feeling of anger than his
interference in church matters, was his claim to influence the decisions
of the law courts. The pusillanimity of the great mass of the judges
hindered them from opposing his outrageous claims, and the people saw
with indignation and amazement the royal power becoming infinitely
greater and more extended than anything to which Henry VIII. or even
Elizabeth had laid claim. The negotiations of the king for a marriage
between his son and the Infanta of Spain raised the fears of the people
to the highest point. The remembrance of the Spanish armada was still
fresh in their minds, and they looked upon an alliance with Spain as the
most unholy of contracts, and as threatening alike the religion and
liberties of Englishmen.

Thus when at King James' death King Charles ascended the throne, he
inherited a legacy of trouble. Unhappily, his disposition was even more
obstinate than that of his father. His training had been wholly bad, and
he had inherited the pernicious ideas of his father in reference to the
rights of kings. Even more unfortunately, he had inherited his father's
counselors. The Duke of Buckingham, a haughty, avaricious, and ambitious
noble, raised by King James from obscurity, urged him to follow the path
of his father, and other evil counselors were not wanting. King
Charles, indeed, had an advantage over his father, inasmuch as his
person was stately and commanding, his manner grave and dignified, and
his private life irreproachable. The conflicts which had continued
throughout the reign of his father between king and Parliament speedily
broke out afresh. The Commons refused to grant supplies, unless the king
granted rights and privileges which he deemed alike derogatory and
dangerous. The shifty foreign policy of England was continued, and soon
the breach was as wide as it had been during the previous reign.

After several Parliaments had been called and dissolved, some gaining
advantage from the necessities of the king, others meeting only to
separate after discussions which imbittered the already existing
relations, for ten years the king dispensed with a Parliament. The
murder of the Duke of Buckingham by Felton brought no alleviation to the
situation. In Ireland, Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, ruled with
tyrannical power. He was a man of clear mind and of great talent, and
his whole efforts were devoted to increasing the power of the king, and
so, as he considered, the benefit of the country. In Ireland he had a
submissive Parliament, and by the aid of this he raised moneys, and
ruled in a manner which, tyrannical as it was, was yet for the benefit
of that country. The king had absolute confidence in him, and his advice
was ever on the side of resistance to popular demands. In England the
chief power was given to Archbishop Land, a high church prelate, bent
upon restoring many of the forms of Catholic worship, and bitterly
opposed to the Puritan spirit which pervaded the great mass of the
English people.

So far the errors had been entirely upon the side of the king. The
demands of the Commons had been justified by precedent and
constitutional rule. The doings of the king were in equal opposition to
these. When at last the necessity of the situation compelled Charles to
summon a Parliament, he was met by them in a spirit of absolute
defiance. Before any vote of supply would he taken, the Commons insisted
upon the impeachment of Strafford, and Charles weakly consented to this.
The trial was illegally carried on, and the evidence weak and doubtful.
But the king's favorite was marked out for destruction, and to the joy
of the whole kingdom was condemned and executed. A similar fate befell
Laud, and encouraged by these successes, the demands of the Commons
became higher and higher.

The ultimatum which at last the Puritan party in Parliament delivered to
the king, was that no man should remain in the royal council who was not
agreeable to Parliament; that no deed of the king should have validity
unless it passed the council, and was attested under their hands; that
all the officers of the state and principal judges should be chosen with
consent of Parliament, and enjoy their offices for life; that none of
the royal family should marry without consent of Parliament or the
council; that the penal laws should be executed against Catholics; that
the votes of popish lords should not be received in the Peers, and that
bishops should be excluded from the House; that the reformation of the
liturgy and church government should be carried out according to the
advice of Parliament; that the ordinances which they had made with
regard to the militia should be submitted to; that the justice of
Parliament should pass upon all delinquents, that is, upon all officials
of the state and country who had assisted in carrying out the king's
ordinances for the raising of taxes; that a general pardon should he
granted, with such exceptions as should he advised by Parliament; that
the fort and castles should be disposed of by consent of Parliament;
and that no peers should be made but with the consent of both Houses.
They demanded also that they should have the power of appointing and
dismissing the royal ministers, of naming guardians for the royal
children, and of virtually controlling military, civil, and religious
affairs.

As it was clear that these demands went altogether beyond the rights of
the Commons, and that if the king submitted to them the power of the
country would be solely in their hands, while he himself would become a
cipher, he had no course open to him but to refuse assent, and to appeal
to the loyal nobility and gentry of the country.

It is true that many of these rights have since been obtained by the
Houses of Parliament; but it must be remembered that they were
altogether alien at the time to the position which the kings of England
had hitherto held, and that the body into whose hands they would be
intrusted would be composed solely of one party in the state, and that
this party would be controlled by the fanatical leaders and the
ministers of the sects opposed to the Established Church, which were at
that time bitter, narrow, and violent to an extent of which we have now
no conception.

The attitude thus assumed by Parliament drove from their ranks a great
many of the most intelligent and enlightened of those who had formerly
sided with them in their contest against the king. These gentlemen felt
that intolerable as was the despotic power of a king, still more
intolerable would it be to be governed by the despotic power of a group
of fanatics. The liberty of Englishmen was now as much threatened by the
Commons as it had been threatened by the king, and to loyal gentlemen
the latter alternative was preferable. Thus there were on both sides
earnest and conscientious men who grieved deeply at being forced to
draw swords in such a quarrel, and who felt that their choice of sides
was difficult in the extreme. Falkland was the typical soldier on the
royal side, Hampden on that of the Commons.

It is probable that were England divided to-morrow under the same
conditions, men would be equally troubled upon which side to range
themselves. At this period of the struggle, with the exception of a few
hot-headed followers of the king and a few zealots on the side of the
Commons, there was a general hope that matters would shortly be
arranged, and that one conflict would settle the struggle.

The first warlike demonstration was made before the town of York, before
whose walls the king, arriving with an armed force, was refused
admittance by Sir John Hotham, who held the place for the Parliament.
This was the signal for the outbreak of the war, and each party
henceforth strained every nerve to arm themselves and to place their
forces in the field.

The above is but a brief sketch of the circumstances which led the
Cavaliers and Puritans of England to arm themselves for civil war. Many
details have been omitted, the object being not to teach the history of
the time, but to show the general course of events which had led to so
broad and strange a division between the people of England. Even now,
after an interval of two hundred years, men still discuss the subject
with something like passion, and are as strong in their sympathies
toward one side or the other as in the days when their ancestors took up
arms for king or Commons.

It is with the story of the war which followed the conversation of Harry
Furness and Herbert Rippinghall that we have to do, not with that of the
political occurrences which preceded it. As to these, at least, no
doubts or differences of opinion can arise. The incidents of the war,
its victories and defeats, its changing fortunes, and its final triumph
are matters beyond the domain of politics, or of opinion; and indeed
when once the war began politics ceased to have much further sway. The
original questions were lost sight of, and men fought for king or
Parliament just as soldiers nowadays fight for England or France,
without in any concerning themselves with the original grounds of
quarrel.




CHAPTER II.

FOR THE KING.


It was late that evening when Sir Henry Furness returned from Oxford;
but Harry, anxious to hear the all-absorbing news of the day, had waited
up for him.

"What news, father?" he said, as Sir Henry alighted at the door.

"Stirring news, Harry; but as dark as may be. War appears to be now
certain. The king has made every concession, but the more he is ready to
grant, the more those Puritan knaves at Westminster would force from
him. King, peers, bishops, Church, all is to go down before this knot of
preachers; and it is well that the king has his nobles and gentry still
at his back. I have seen Lord Falkland, and he has given me a commission
in the king's name to raise a troop of horse. The royal banner will be
hoisted at Nottingham, and there he will appeal to all his loyal
subjects for aid against those who seek to govern the nation."

"And you think, sir, that it will really be war now?" Harry asked.

"Ay, that will it, unless the Commons go down on their knees and ask his
majesty's pardon, of which there is, methinks, no likelihood. As was to
be expected, the burghers and rabble of the large towns are everywhere
with them, and are sending up petitions to the Commons to stand fast and
abolish everything. However, the country is of another way of thinking,
and though the bad advisers of the king have in times past taken
measures which have sorely tried our loyalty, that is all forgotten
now. His majesty has promised redress to all grievances, and to rule
constitutionally in future, and I hear that the nobles are calling out
their retainers in all parts. England has always been governed by her
kings since she was a country, and we are going to try now whether we
are to be governed in future by our kings or by every tinker, tailor,
preacher, or thief sent up to Westminster. I know which is my choice,
and to-morrow I shall set about raising a troop of lads of the same
mind."

"You mean to take me, sir, I hope," Harry said.

"Take you?" his lather repeated, laughing. "To do what?"

"To fight, certainly," Harry replied. "I am sure that among the tenants
there is not one who could use the small sword as I can, for you have
taught me yourself, and I do not think that I should be more afraid of
the London pikemen than the best of them."

"No, no, Harry," his father said, putting his hand on the boy's
shoulder; "I do not doubt your bravery. You come of a fighting stock
indeed, and good blood cannot lie. But you are too young, my boy."

"But if the war goes on for a couple of years, father."

"Ay, ay, my boy; but I hope that it will be ended in a couple of months.
If it should last--which God forbid!--you shall have your chance, never
fear. Or, Harry, should you hear that aught has happened to me, mount
your horse at once, my boy; ride to the army, and take your place at the
head of my tenants. They will of course put an older hand in command;
but so long as a Furness is alive, whatever be his age, he must ride at
the head of the Furness tenants to strike for the king. I hear, by the
way, Harry, that that Puritan knave, Rippinghall, the wool-stapler, is
talking treason among his hands, and says that he will add a brave
contingent to the bands of the Commons when they march hither. Hast
heard aught about it?"

"Nothing, father, but I hope it is not true. I know, however, that
Master Rippinghall's thoughts and opinions lie in that direction, for I
have heard from Herbert--"

"Ah, the son of the wool-stapler. Hark you, Harry, this is a time when
we must all take sides for or against the king. Hitherto I have
permitted your acquaintance with the wool-stapler's son, though, in
truth, he be by birth no fit companion for you. But times have changed
now. The sword is going to be drawn, and friends of the king can no
longer be grip hands with friends of the Commons. Did my own brother
draw sword for Parliament, we would never speak again. Dost hear?"

"Yes, sir; and will of course obey your order, should you determine that
I must speak no more to Herbert. But, as you say, I am a boy yet, too
young to ride to the wars, and Herbert is no older. It will be time for
us to quarrel when it is time for us to draw the sword."

"That is so, Harry, and I do not altogether forbid you speaking with
him. Still the less you are seen together, the better. I like the lad,
and have made him welcome here for your sake. He is a thoughtful lad,
and a clever one; but it is your thoughtful men who plot treason, and
until the storm be overpast, it is best that you see as little of him as
may be. And now I have eaten my supper, and it is long past the time
that you should have been in bed. Send down word by Thomas Hardway to
Master Drake, my steward, to bid him send early in the morning notices
that all my tenants shall assemble here to-morrow at four in the
afternoon, and bid the cook come to me. We shall have a busy day
to-morrow, for the Furness tenantry never gather at the hall and go out
empty. And short though be the notice, they shall not do so this time,
which to some of us may, perchance, be the last."

The next day there was bustle and hurry at Furness Hall. The ponds were
dragged for fish; the poultry yard was scoured for its finest birds; the
keepers were early afield, and when they returned with piles of hares
and rabbits, these were seized by the cook and converted into huge pies
and pasties. Two sheep were slaughtered, and the scullions were hard at
work making confections of currants, gooseberries, plums, and other
fruits from the garden. In the great hall the tables were laid, and when
this was done, and all was in readiness, the serving men were called up
to the armory, and there, throughout the day, the cleaning of swords and
iron caps, the burnishing of breast and back pieces, the cleaning of
firelocks, and other military work went on with all haste.

The Furness estates covered many a square mile of Berkshire, and fifty
sturdy yeomen dismounted before Furness Hall at the hour named by Sir
Henry. A number of grooms and serving men were in attendance, and took
the horses as they rode up, while the major-domo conducted them to the
great picture gallery. Here they were received by Sir Henry with a
stately cordiality, and the maids handed round a great silver goblet
filled with spiced wine.

At four exactly the major-domo entered and announced that the quota was
complete, and that every one of those summoned was present.

"Serve the tables then," Sir Henry said, as he led the Way to the great
dining-hall.

Sir Henry took the head of the broad table, and bade Harry sit on his
right hand, while the oldest of the tenants faced him at the opposite
end. Then a troop of servants entered bearing smoking joints, cold
boars' heads, fish, turkeys, geese, and larded capons. These were
placed upon the table, with an abundance of French wine, and of strong
ale for those who preferred it, to wash down the viands. The first
courses were followed by dishes of meats and confections, and when all
was finished and cleared away Sir Henry Furness rose to his feet.

"Fill your glasses all," he said; "and bumpers. The toast which I give
you to-day is 'The king, God bless him.' Never should Englishmen drink
his health more earnestly and solemnly than to-day, when rebels have
driven him from his capital, and pestilent traitors threatened him with
armed force. Perhaps, my friends, you, like me, may from time to time
have grumbled when the tax-collectors have come round, and you have seen
no one warrant for their demands. But if the king has been forced so to
exceed his powers, it was in no slight degree because those at
Westminster refused to grant him the sums which were needful. He has,
too, been surrounded by bad advisers. I myself loved not greatly either
Stratford or Laud. But I would rather bear their high-handed ways, which
were at least aimed to strengthen the kingdom and for the honor of the
king, than be ground by these petty tyrants at Westminster, who would
shut up our churches, forbid us to smile on a Sunday, or to pray, except
through our noses; who would turn merry England into a canting
conventicle, and would rule us with a rod to which that of the king were
as a willow wand. Therefore it is the duty of all true men and good to
drink the health of his majesty the king, and confusion to his enemies."

Upstanding, and with enthusiastic shouts, the whole of the tenants drank
the toast. Sir Henry was pleased with the spirit which was manifested,
and when the cheering had subsided and quiet was again restored, he went
on:

"My friends, I have summoned you here to tell you what many of you no
doubt know already--that the king, driven from London by the traitors of
Parliament, who would take from him all power, would override the peers,
and abolish the Church, has appealed to his faithful subjects to stand
by him, and to maintain his cause. He will, ere a fortnight be past,
raise his banner at Nottingham. Already Sir John Hotham, the rebel
Governor of York, has closed the gates of that city to him, and it is
time that all loyal men were on foot to aid his cause. Lord Falkland has
been pleased to grant me a commission to raise a troop of horse in his
service, and I naturally come to you first, to ask you to follow me."

He paused a moment, and a shout of assent rang through the hall.

"There are," he said, "some among you whom years may prevent from
yourselves undertaking the hardships of the field, but these can send
substitutes in their sons. You will understand that none are compelled
to go; but I trust that from the long-standing friendship between us,
and from the duty which you each owe to the king, none will hold back.
Do I understand that all here are willing to join, or to furnish
substitutes?"

A general shout of "All" broke from the tenants.

"Thank you, my friends, I expected nothing else. This will give me fifty
good men, and true, and I hope that each will be able to bring with him
one, two, or more men, in proportion to the size of his holding. I shall
myself bear the expense of the arms and outfit of all these; but we must
not strip the land of hands. Farming must still go on, for people must
feed, even if there be war. As to the rents, we must waive our
agreements while the war lasts. Each man will pay me what proportion of
his rent he is able, and no more. The king will need money as well as
men, and as all I receive will be at his service, I know that each of
you will pay as much as he can to aid the common cause. I have here a
list of your names. My son will take it round to each, and will write
down how many men each of you may think to bring with him to the war. No
man must be taken unwillingly. I want only those whose hearts are in the
cause. My son is grieving that he is not old enough to ride with us; but
should aught befall me in the strife, I have bade him ride and take his
place among you."

Another cheer arose, and Harry went round the table taking down the
names and numbers of the men, and when his total was added up, it was
found that those present believed that they could bring a hundred men
with them into the field.

"This is beyond my hopes," Sir Harry said, as amid great cheering he
announced the result. "I myself will raise another fifty from my grooms,
gardeners, and keepers, and from brave lads I can gather in the village,
and I shall be proud indeed when I present to his majesty two hundred
men of Furness, ready to die in his defense."

After this there was great arrangement of details. Each tenant gave a
list of the arms which he possessed and the number of horses fit for
work, and as in those days, by the law of the land each man, of
whatsoever his degree, was bound to keep arms in order to join the
militia, should his services be required for the defense of the kingdom,
the stock of arms was, with the contents of Sir Henry's armory, found to
be sufficient for the number of men who were to be raised. It was eight
o'clock in the evening before all was arranged, and the party broke up
and separated to their homes.

For the next week there was bustle and preparation on the Furness
estates, as, indeed, through all England. As yet, however, the
Parliament were gathering men far more rapidly than the king. The
Royalists of England were slow to perceive how far the Commons intended
to press their demands, and could scarcely believe that civil war was
really to break out. The friends of the Commons, however, were
everywhere in earnest. The preachers in the conventicles throughout the
land denounced the king in terms of the greatest violence, and in almost
every town the citizens were arming and drilling. Lord Essex, who
commanded the Parliamentary forces, was drawing toward Northampton with
ten thousand men, consisting mainly of the train-bands of London; while
the king, with only a few hundred followers, was approaching Nottingham,
where he proposed to unfurl his standard and appeal to his subjects.

In a week from the day of the appeal of Sir Henry two troops, each of a
hundred men strong, drew up in front of Furness Hall. To the eye of a
soldier accustomed to the armies of the Continent, with their bands
trained by long and constant warfare, the aspect of this troop might not
have appeared formidable. Each man was dressed according to his fancy.
Almost all wore jack-boots coming nigh to the hip, iron breast and back
pieces, and steel caps. Sir Henry Furness and four gentlemen, his
friends, who had seen service in the Low Countries, and had now gladly
joined his band, took their places, Sir Henry himself at the head of the
body, and two officers with each troop. They, too, were clad in high
boots, with steel breast and back pieces, thick buff leather gloves, and
the wide felt hats with feathers which were worn in peace time. During
the war some of the Royalist officers wore iron caps as did their foes.
But the majority, in a spirit of defiance and contempt of their enemies,
wore the wide hat of the times, which, picturesque and graceful as it
was, afforded but a poor defense for the head. Almost all wore their
hair long and in ringlets, and across their shoulders were the white
scarfs typical of their loyalty to the king. Harry bestrode a fine horse
which his father had given him, and had received permission to ride for
half the day's march by his side at the head of the troop. The trumpeter
sounded the call, Sir Henry stood up in his stirrups, drew his sword and
waved it over his head, and shouted "For God and King." Two hundred
swords flashed in the air, and the answering shout came out deep and
full. Then the swords were sheathed, the horses' heads turned, and with
a jingle of sabers and accouterments the troop rode gayly out through
the gates of the park.

Upon their way north they were joined by more than one band of Cavaliers
marching in the same direction, and passed, too, several bodies of
footmen, headed by men with closely-cropped heads, and somber figures,
beside whom generally marched others whom their attire proclaimed to be
Puritan preachers, on their way to join the army of Essex. The parties
scowled at each other as they passed; but as yet no sword had been drawn
on either side, and without adventure they arrived at Nottingham.

Having distributed his men among the houses of the town, Sir Henry
Furness rode to the castle, where his majesty had arrived the day
before. He had already the honor of the personal acquaintance of the
king, for he had in one of the early parliaments sat for Oxford.
Disgusted, however, with the spirit that prevailed among the opponents
of the king, and also by the obstinacy and unconstitutional course
pursued by his majesty, he had at the dissolution of Parliament retired
to his estate, and when the next House was summoned, declined to stand
again for his seat.

"Welcome, Sir Henry," his majesty said graciously to him, "you are
among the many who withstood me somewhat in the early days of my reign,
and perchance you were right to do so; but who have now, in my need,
rallied round me, seeing whither the purpose of these traitorous
subjects of mine leads them. You are the more welcome that you have, as
I hear, brought two hundred horsemen with you, a number larger than any
which has yet joined me. These," he said, pointing to two young noblemen
near him, "are my nephews, Rupert and Maurice, who have come to join
me."

Upon making inquiries, Sir Henry found that the prospects of the king
were far from bright. So far, the Royalists had been sadly behindhand
with their preparations. The king had arrived with scarce four hundred
men. He had left his artillery behind at York for want of carriage, and
his need in arms was even greater than in men, as the arsenals of the
kingdom had all been seized by the Parliament. Essex lay at Northampton
with ten thousand men, and had he at this time advanced, even the most
sanguine of the Royalists saw that the struggle would be a hopeless one.

The next day, at the hour appointed, the royal standard was raised on
the Castle of Nottingham, in the midst of a great storm of wind and
rain, which before many hours had passed blew the royal standard to the
ground--an omen which those superstitiously inclined deemed of evil
augury indeed. The young noblemen and gentlemen, however, who had
gathered at Northampton, were not of a kind to be daunted by omens and
auguries, and finding that Essex did not advance and hearing news from
all parts of the country that the loyal gentlemen were gathering their
tenants fast, their hopes rose rapidly. There was, indeed, some
discontent when it was known that, by the advice of his immediate
councilors, King Charles had dispatched the Earl of Southampton with
Sir John Collpeper and Sir William Uvedale to London, with orders to
treat with the Commons. The Parliament, however, refused to enter into
any negotiations whatever until the king lowered his standard and
recalled the proclamation which he had issued. This, which would have
been a token of absolute surrender to the Parliament, the king refused
to do. He attempted a further negotiation; but this also failed.

The troops at Nottingham now amounted to eleven hundred men, of which
three hundred were infantry raised by Sir John Digby, the sheriff of the
county. The other eight hundred were horse. Upon the breaking off of
negotiations, and the advance of Essex, the king, sensible that he was
unable to resist the advance of Essex, who had now fifteen thousand men
collected under him, fell back to Derby, and thence to Shrewsbury, being
joined on his way by many nobles and gentlemen with their armed
followers. At Wellington, a town a day's march from Shrewsbury, the king
had his little army formed up, and made a solemn declaration before them
in which he promised to maintain the Protestant religion, to observe the
laws, and to uphold the just privileges and freedom of Parliament.

The Furness band were not present on that occasion, as they had been
dispatched to Worcester with some other soldiers, the whole under the
command of Prince Rupert, in order to watch the movements of Essex, who
was advancing in that direction. While scouring the ground around the
city, they came upon a body of Parliamentary cavalry, the advance of the
army of Essex. The bands drew up at a little distance from each other,
and then Prince Rupert gave the command to charge. With the cheer of
"For God and the king!" the troop rushed upon the cavalry of the
Parliament with such force and fury that they broke them utterly, and
killing many, drove them in confusion from the field, but small loss to
themselves.

This was the first action of the civil war, the first blood drawn by
Englishmen from Englishmen since the troubles in the commencement of the
reign of Mary.




CHAPTER III.

A BRAWL AT OXFORD.


News in those days traveled but slowly, and England was full of
conflicting rumors as to the doings of the two armies. Every one was
unsettled. Bodies of men moving to join one or other of the parties kept
the country in an uproar, and the Cavaliers, or rather the toughs of the
towns calling themselves Cavaliers, brought much odium upon the royal
cause by the ill-treatment of harmless citizens, and by raids on
inoffensive country people. Later on this conduct was to be reversed and
the Royalists were to suffer tenfold the outrages now put upon the
Puritans. But there can be no doubt that the conduct of irresponsible
ruffians at that time did much to turn the flood of public opinion in
many places, where it would otherwise have remained neutral, against the
crown.

To Harry the time passed but slowly. He spent his days in Abingdon
hearing the latest news, and occasionally rode over to Oxford. This
city was throughout the civil war the heart of the Royalist party, and
its loss was one of the heaviest blows which befell the crown. Here
Harry found none but favorable reports current. Enthusiasm was at its
height. The university was even more loyal than the town, and bands of
lads smashed the windows of those persons who were supposed to favor the
Parliament. More than once Harry saw men pursued through the streets,
pelted with stones and mud, and in some cases escaping barely with
their lives. Upon one occasion, seeing a person in black garments and of
respectable appearance so treated, the boy's indignation was aroused,
for he himself, both from his conversations with his friend Herbert, and
the talk with his father, was, although enthusiastically Royalist, yet
inclined to view with respect those who held opposite opinions.

"Run down that alley!" he exclaimed, pushing his horse between the
fugitive and his pursuers.

The man darted down the lane, and Harry placed himself at the entrance,
and shouted to the rabble to abstain.

A yell of rage and indignation replied, and a volley of stones was
thrown. Harry fearlessly drew his sword, and cut at some of those who
were in the foreground. These retaliated with sticks, and Harry was
forced backward into the lane. This was too narrow to enable him to
turn, his horse, and his position was a critical one. Finding that he
was a mark for stones, he leaped from the saddle, thereby disappearing
from the sight of those in the ranks behind, and sword in hand, barred
the way to the foremost of his assailants. The contest, however, would
have been brief had not a party of young students come up the lane, and
seeing from Harry's attire that he was a gentleman, and likely to be of
Cavalier opinions, they at once, without inquiring the cause of the
fray, threw themselves into it, shouting "Gown! gown!" They speedily
drove the assailants back out of the lane; but these, reinforced by the
great body beyond, were then too strong for them. The shouts of the
young men, however, brought up others to their assistance, and a general
melee took place, townsmen and gownsmen throwing themselves into the
fray without any inquiry as to the circumstances from which it arose.
The young students carried swords, which, although contrary to the
statutes of the university, were for the time generally adopted. The
townspeople were armed with bludgeons, and in some cases with hangers,
and the fray was becoming a serious one, when it was abruptly terminated
by the arrival of a troop of horse, which happened to be coming into the
town to join the royal forces. The officer in command, seeing so
desperate a tumult raging, ordered his men to charge into the crowd, and
their interference speedily put an end to the fight.

Harry returned to their rooms with some of his protectors and their
wounds were bound up, and the circumstances of the fight were talked
over. Harry was much blamed by the college men when he said that he had
been drawn into the fray by protecting a Puritan. But when his new
friends learned that he was as thoroughly Royalist as themselves, and
that his father had gone with a troop to Nottingham, they took a more
favorable view of his action, but still assured him that it was the
height of folly to interfere to protect a rebel from the anger of the
townspeople.

"But, methinks," Harry said, "that it were unwise in the extreme to push
matters so far here. In Oxford the Royalists have it all their own way,
and can, of course, at will assault their Puritan neighbors. But it is
different in most other towns. There the Roundheads have the upper hand
and might retort by doing ill to the Cavaliers there. Surely it were
better to keep these unhappy differences out of private life, and to
trust the arbitration of our cause to the arms of our soldiers in the
field."

There was a general agreement that this would indeed be the wisest
course; but the young fellows were of opinion that hot heads on either
side would have their way, and that if the war went on attacks of this
kind by the one party on the other must be looked for.

Harry remained for some time with his friends in Christ church,
drinking the beer for which the college was famous. Then, mounting his
horse, he rode back to Abingdon.

Two days later, as he was proceeding toward the town, he met a man
dressed as a preacher.

"Young sir," the latter said, "may I ask if you are Master Furness?"

"I am," the lad replied.

"Then it is to you I am indebted for my rescue from those who assaulted
me in the streets of Oxford last week. In the confusion I could not see
your face, but I inquired afterward, and was told that my preserver was
Master Furness, and have come over to thank you for your courtesy and
bravery in thus intervening on behalf of one whom I think you regard as
an enemy, for I understand that Sir Henry, your father, has declared for
the crown."

"I acted," Harry said, "simply on the impulse of humanity, and hold it
mean and cowardly for a number of men to fall upon one."

"We are," the preacher continued, "at the beginning only of our
troubles, and the time may come when I, Zachariah Stubbs, may be able to
return to you the good service which you have done me. Believe me, young
sir, the feeling throughout England is strong for the Commons, and that
it will not be crushed out, as some men suppose, even should the king's
men gain a great victory over Essex--which, methinks, is not likely.
There are tens of thousands throughout the country who are now content
to remain quiet at home, who would assuredly draw the sword and go forth
to battle, should they consider their cause in danger. The good work has
begun, and the sword will not be sheathed until the oppressor is laid
low."

"We should differ who the oppressor is," Harry replied coldly. "I
myself am young to discuss these matters, but my father and those who
think with him consider that the oppression is at present on the side of
the Commons, and of those whose religious views you share. While
pretending to wish to be free, you endeavor to bind others beneath your
tyranny. While wishing to worship in your way unmolested, you molest
those who wish to worship in theirs. However, I thank you for your
offer, that should the time come your good services will be at my
disposal. As you say, the issue of the conflict is dark, and it may be,
though I trust it will not, that some day you may, if you will, return
the light service which I rendered you."

"You will not forget my name?" the preacher said--"Zachariah Stubbs, a
humble instrument of the Lord, and a preacher in the Independent chapel
at Oxford. Thither I cannot return, and am on my way to London, where I
have many friends, and where I doubt not a charge will be found for me.
I myself belong to the east countries, where the people are strong for
the Lord, and I doubt not that some of those I know will come to the
front of affairs, in which case my influence may perhaps be of more
service than you can suppose at present. Farewell, young sir, and
whatever be the issues of this struggle, I trust that you may safely
emerge from them."

The man lifted his broad black hat, and went on his way, and Harry rode
forward, smiling a little to himself at the promise given him.

The time passed slowly, and all kinds of rumors filled the land. At
length beacon fires were seen to blaze upon the hills, and, as it was
known that the Puritans had arranged with Essex that the news of a
victory was so to be conveyed to London, the hearts of the Royalists
sank, for they feared that disaster had befallen their cause. The next
day, however, horsemen of the Parliament galloping through the country
proclaimed that they had been defeated; but it was not till next day
that the true state of affairs became known. Then the news came that the
battle had indeed been a drawn one.

On the 26th of October Charles marched with his army into Oxford. So
complete was the ignorance of the inhabitants as to the movements of the
armies that at Abingdon the news of his coming was unknown, and Harry
was astonished on the morning of the 27th at hearing a great trampling
of horsemen. Looking out, he beheld his father at the head of the troop,
approaching the house. With a shout of joy the lad rushed downstairs and
met his father at the entrance.

"I did not look to be back so soon, Harry," Sir Henry said, as he
alighted from his horse. "We arrived at Oxford last night, and I am sent
on with my troop to see that no Parliament bands are lurking in the
neighborhood."

Before entering the house the colonel dismissed his troop, telling them
that until the afternoon they could return to their homes, but must then
re-assemble and hold themselves in readiness to advance, should he
receive further orders. Then, accompanied by his officers, he entered
the house. Breakfast was speedily prepared, and when this was done
justice to Sir Henry proceeded to relate to Harry, who was burning with
impatience to hear his news, the story of the battle of Edgehill.

"We reached Shrewsbury, as I wrote you," he said, "and stayed there
twenty days, and during that time the army swelled and many nobles and
gentlemen joined us. We were, however, it must be owned, but a motley
throng. The foot soldiers, indeed, were mostly armed with muskets; but
many had only sticks and cudgels. On the 12th we moved to Wolverhampton,
and so on through Birmingham and Kenilworth. We saw nothing of the
rebels till we met at Edgecot, a little hamlet near Banbury, where we
took post on a hill, the rebels being opposite to us. It must be owned,"
Sir Henry went on, "that things here did not promise well. There were
dissensions between Prince Rupert, who commanded the cavalry, and Lord
Lindsey, the general in chief, who is able and of great courage, but
hot-headed and fiery. In the morning it was determined to engage, as
Essex's forces had not all come up, and the king's troops were at least
as numerous as those of the enemy. We saw little of the fighting, for at
the commencement of the battle we got word to charge upon the enemy's
left. We made but short work of them, and drove them headlong from the
field, chasing them in great disorder for three miles, and taking much
plunder in Kineton among the Parliament baggage-wagons. Thinking that
the fight was over, we then prepared to ride back. When we came to the
field we found that all was changed. The main body of the Roundheads had
pressed hotly upon ours and had driven them back. Lord Lindsey himself,
who had gone into the battle at the head of the pikemen carrying a pike
himself like a common soldier, had been mortally wounded and taken
prisoner, and grievous slaughter had been inflicted. The king's standard
itself had been taken, but this had been happily recovered, for two
Royalist officers, putting on orange scarfs, rode into the middle of the
Roundheads, and pretending that they were sent by Essex, demanded the
flag from his secretary, to whom it had been intrusted. The scrivener
gave it up, and the officers, seizing it, rode through the enemy and
recovered their ranks. There was much confusion and no little angry
discussion in the camp that night, the footmen accusing the horsemen of
having deserted them, and the horsemen grumbling at the foot, because
they had not done their work as well as themselves. In the morning the
two armies still faced each other, neither being willing to budge a
foot, although neither cared to renew the battle. The rest of the
Parliamentary forces had arrived, and they might have struck us a heavy
blow had they been minded, for there was much discouragement in our
ranks. Lord Essex, however, after waiting a day and burying his dead,
drew off from the field, and we, remaining there, were able to claim the
victory, which, however, my son, was one of a kind which was scarce
worth winning. It was a sad sight to see so many men stretched stark and
dead, and these killed, not in fighting with a foreign foe, but with
other Englishmen. It made us all mightily sad, and if at that moment
Lord Essex had had full power from the Parliament to treat, methinks
that the quarrel could have been settled, all being mightily sick of
such kind of fighting."

"What is going to be done now, father?" Harry asked.

"We are going to move forward toward London. Essex is moving parallel
with us, and will try to get there first. From what we hear from our
friends in the city, there are great numbers of moderate men will be
glad to see the king back, and to agree to make an end of this direful
business. The zealots and preachers will of course oppose them. But when
we arrive, we trust that our countenance will enable our friends to make
a good front, and to overcome the opposition of the Puritans. We expect
that in a few days we shall meet with offers to treat. But whether or
no, I hope that the king will soon be lodged again in his palace at
Whitehall."

"And do you think that there will be any fighting, sir?"

"I think not. I sincerely hope not," the colonel said.

"Then if you think that there will only be a peaceable entry, will you
not let me ride with you? It will be a brave sight to see the king enter
London again; one to tell of all one's life."

The colonel made no reply for a minute or two.

"Well, Harry, I will not say you nay," he said at length. "Scenes of
broils and civil war are not for lads of your age. But, as you say, it
would be a thing to talk of to old age how you rode after the king when
he entered London in state. But mind, if there be fighting, you must
rein back and keep out of it."

Harry was overjoyed with the permission, for in truth time had hung
heavily on his hands since the colonel had ridden away. His
companionship with Herbert had ceased, for although the lads pressed
hands warmly when they met in Abingdon, both felt that while any day
might bring news of the triumph of one party or the other, it was
impossible that they could hold any warm intercourse with each other.
The school was closed, for the boys of course took sides, and so much
ill-will was caused that it was felt best to put a stop to it by closing
the doors. Harry therefore had been left entirely upon his own
resources, and although he had ridden about among the tenants and, so
far as he could, supplied his father's place, the time often hung heavy
on his hands, especially during the long hours of the evening. After
thanking his father for his kindness, he rushed wildly off to order his
horse to be prepared for him to accompany the troop, to re-burnish the
arms which he had already chosen as fitting him from the armory, and to
make what few preparations were necessary for the journey.

It was some days, however, before any move was made. The king was
occupied in raising money, being sorely crippled by want of funds, as
well as of arms and munitions of war. At the beginning of November the
advance was made, Sir Henry with his troop joining Prince Rupert, and
advancing through Reading without opposition as far as Maidenhead, where
he fixed his quarters. Two days later he learned that Essex had arrived
with his army in London. On the 11th King Charles was at Colnbrook. Here
he received a deputation from the Houses of Parliament, who proposed
that the king should pause in his advance until committees of both
Houses should attend him with propositions "for the removal of these
bloody distempers and distractions." The king received the deputation
favorably, and said that he would stop at Windsor, and there receive the
propositions which might be sent him.

Unfortunately, however, the hopes which were now entertained that peace
would be restored, were dashed to the ground by an action which was
ascribed by the Royalists to the hotheadedness of Prince Rupert, but
which the king's enemies affirmed was due to the duplicity of his
majesty himself. On this point there is no evidence. But it is certain
that the advance made after this deputation had been received rendered
all further negotiation impossible, as it inspired the Commons with the
greatest distrust, and enabled the violent portion always to feign a
doubt of the king's word, and great fears as to the keeping of any terms
which might be made, and so to act upon the timid and wavering. The very
day after the deputation had left, bearing the news to London of the
king's readiness to treat, and inspiring all there with hope of peace,
Prince Rupert, taking advantage of a very thick mist, marched his
cavalry to within half a mile of the town of Brentford before his
advance was discovered, designing to surprise the train of artillery at
Hammersmith and to push on and seize the Commons and the city.

The design might have been successful, for the exploits of Rupert's
horse at the battle of Edgehill had struck terror into the minds of the
enemy. In the town of Brentford, however, were lodged a regiment of
foot, under Hollis, and these prepared manfully to resist. Very
valiantly the prince, followed by his horse, charged into the streets of
Brentford, where the houses were barricaded by the foot soldiers, who
shot boldly against them. Many were killed, and for three hours the
contest was resolutely maintained. The streets had been barricaded, and
Prince Rupert's men fought at great disadvantage. At length, as evening
approached, and the main body of the Cavaliers came up, the Parliament
men gave way, and were driven from the town. Many were taken prisoners,
and others driven into the river, the greater portion, however, making
their way in boats safely down the stream. The delay which their sturdy
resistance had made saved the city. Hampden was bringing his men across
from Acton. Essex had marched from Chelsea Fields to Turnham Green, and
the road was now blocked. After it was dark the Train-Bands advanced,
and the Parliament regiments, reinforced by them, pushed on to Brentford
again; the Royalists, finding that the place could not be held, fell
back to the king's quarters at Hounslow.

The chroniclers describe how wild a scene of confusion reigned in London
that evening. Proclamations were issued ordering all men to take up
arms; shops were closed, the apprentice boys mustered in the ranks, and
citizens poured out like one man to defend the town. They encamped upon
the road, and the next day great trains of provisions sent by the wives
of the merchants and traders reached them, and as many came out to see
the forces, the scene along the road resembled a great fair.

In this fight at Brentford Harry Furness was engaged. The Royalists had
anticipated no resistance here, not knowing that Hollis held the place,
and Sir Henry did not think of ordering Harry to remain behind. At the
moment when it was found that Hollis was in force and the trumpets
sounded the charge, the lad was riding in the rear of the troop, talking
to one of the officers, and his father could take no step to prevent his
joining. Therefore, when the trumpets sounded and the troops started off
at full gallop toward the town, Harry, greatly exulting in his good
luck, fell in with them and rode down the streets of Brentford. The
musketry fire was brisk, and many of the troop rolled from their horses.
Presently they were dismounted and ordered to take the houses by storm.
With the hilts of their swords they broke in the doors, and there was
fierce lighting within.

Harry, who was rather bewildered with the din and turmoil of the fight,
did as the rest, and followed two or three of the men into one of the
houses, whose door had been broken open. They were assailed as they
entered by a fire of musketry from the Parliament men within. Those in
front fell, and Harry was knocked down by the butt of a pike.

When he recovered he found himself in a boat drifting down the stream, a
prisoner of the Roundheads.

For a long time Harry could hear the sounds of the guns and cannon at
Brentford, and looking round at the quiet villages which they passed on
the banks, could scarce believe that he had been engaged in a battle and
was now a prisoner. But little was said to him. The men were smarting
under their defeat and indulged in the bitterest language at the
treachery with which, after negotiations had been agreed upon, the
advance of the Royalists had been made. They speedily discovered the
youth of their captive, and, after telling him brutally that he would
probably be hung when he got to London, they paid no further attention
to him. The boat was heavily laden, and rowed by two oars, and the
journey down was a long one, for the tide met them when at the village
of Hammersmith, and they were forced to remain tied up to a tree by the
bank until it turned again. This it did not do until far in the night,
and the morning was just breaking when they reached London.

It was perhaps well for Harry that they arrived in the dark, for in the
excited state of the temper of the citizens, and their anger at the
treachery which had been practiced, it might have fared but badly with
him. He was marched along the Strand to the city, and was consigned to a
lock-up in Finsbury, until it could be settled what should be done to
him. In fact, the next day his career was nearly being terminated, for
John Lilburn, a captain of the Train Bands, who had been an apprentice
and imprisoned for contumacy, had been captured at Brentford, and after
being tried for his life, was sentenced to death as a rebel. Essex,
however, sent in word to the Royalist camp that for every one of the
Parliament officers put to death, he would hang three Royalist
prisoners. This threat had its effect, and Harry remained in ignorance
of the danger which had threatened him.

The greatest inconvenience which befell him was that he was obliged to
listen to all sorts of long harangues upon the part of the Puritan
soldiers who were his jailers. These treated him as a misguided lad, and
did their best to convert him from the evil of his ways. At last Harry
lost his temper, and said that if they wanted to hang him, they might;
but that he would rather put up with that than the long sermons which
they were in the habit of delivering to him. Indignant at this rejection
of their good offices, they left him to himself, and days passed without
his receiving any visit save that of the soldier who brought his meals.




CHAPTER IV.

BREAKING PRISON.


Harry's place of confinement was a cell leading off a guardroom of the
Train Bands. Occasionally the door was left open, as some five or six
men were always there, and Harry could see through the open door the
citizens of London training at arms. Several preachers were in the habit
of coming each day to discourse to those on guard, and so while away the
time, and upon these occasions the door was generally left open, in
order that the prisoner might be edified by the sermons. Upon one
occasion the preacher, a small, sallow-visaged man, looked into the cell
at the termination of his discourse, and seeing Harry asleep on his
truckle bed, awoke him, and lectured him severely on the wickedness of
allowing such precious opportunities to pass. After this he made a point
of coming in each day when he had addressed the guard, and of offering
up a long and very tedious prayer on behalf of the young reprobate.
These preachings and prayings nearly drove Harry out of his mind.
Confinement was bad enough; but confinement tempered by a course of
continual sermons, delivered mostly through the nose, was a terrible
infliction. At last the thought presented itself to him that he might
manage to effect his escape in the garb of the preacher. He thought the
details over and over in his mind, and at last determined at any rate to
attempt to carry them into execution.

One day he noticed, when the door opened for the entry of the preacher,
that a parade of unusual magnitude was being held in the drill yard,
some officer of importance having come down to inspect the Train Band.
There were but four men left in the guardroom and these were occupied in
gazing out of the window. The preacher came direct into the cell, as his
audience in the guardroom for once were not disposed to listen to him,
and shutting the door behind him, he addressed a few words of
exhortation to Harry, and then, closing his eyes, began a long prayer.
When he was fairly under way, Harry sprang upon him, grasping him by the
throat with both hands, and forced him back upon the bed. The little
preacher was too much surprised to offer the smallest resistance, and
Harry, who had drawn out the cords used in supporting the sacking of the
bed, bound him hand and foot, keeping, while he did so, the pillow
across his face, and his weight on the top of the pillow, thereby nearly
putting a stop to the preacher's prayers and exhortations for all time.
Having safely bound him, and finding that he did not struggle in the
least, Harry removed the pillow, and was horrified to see his prisoner
black in the face. He had, however, no time for regret or inquiry how
far the man had gone, and stuffing a handkerchief into his mouth, to
prevent his giving any alarm should he recover breath enough to do so,
Harry placed his high steeple hat upon his head, his Geneva bands round
his throat, and his long black mantle over his shoulders. He then opened
the door and walked quietly forth. The guards were too much occupied
with the proceedings in the parade ground to do more than glance round,
as the apparent preacher departed. Harry strode with a long and very
stiff step, and with his figure bolt upright, to the gate of the parade
ground, and then passing through the crowd who were standing there
gaping at the proceedings within, he issued forth a free man.

For awhile he walked at a brisk pace, and then, feeling secure from
pursuit, slackened his speed; keeping westward through the city, he
passed along the Strand and out into the country beyond. He wore his
beaver well down over his eyes, and walked with his head down as if
meditating deeply, in order to prevent any passers-by from observing the
youthfulness of his face. When he arrived at the village of Chelsea, he
saw, in front of a gentleman's house, a horse hitched up to a hook
placed there for that purpose. Conceiving that for a long journey four
legs are much more useful than two, and that when he got beyond the
confines of London he should attract less suspicion upon a horse than if
striding alone along the road, he took the liberty of mounting it and
riding off. When he had gone a short distance he heard loud shouts; but
thinking these in no way to concern him, he rode on the faster, and was
soon beyond the sound of the voices. He now took a northerly direction,
traveled through Kensington, and then keeping east of Acton, where he
knew that some Parliament troops were quartered, he rode for the village
of Harrow. He was aware that the Royalists had fallen back to Oxford,
and that the Parliament troops were at Reading. He therefore made to the
northwest, intending to circuit round and so reach Oxford. He did not
venture to go to an inn, for although, as a rule, the keepers of these
places were, being jovial men, in no way affected toward the Commons,
yet he feared meeting there persons who might question and detain him.
He obtained some provision at a small village shop, in which he saw a
buxom woman standing behind her counter. She appeared vastly surprised
when he entered and asked for a manchet of bread, for the contrast
between his ruddy countenance and his Puritan hat and bands was so
striking that they could not fail to be noticed. The good woman looked
indeed too astonished to be able to attend to Harry's request, and he
was obliged to say, "Mother, time presses, and I care not to be caught
loitering here."

Divining at once that he was acting a part, and probably endeavoring to
escape the pursuit of the Commons, the good woman at once served him
with bread and some slices of ham, and putting these in the wallets of
the saddle, he rode on.

The next morning, in riding through the village of Wickham, his career
was nearly arrested. Just as he passed a sergeant followed by three or
four Parliament soldiers came out from an inn, and seeing Harry riding
past, addressed him:

"Sir, will it please you to alight, and to offer up a few words of
exhortation and prayer?"

Harry muttered something about pressing business. But in his sudden
surprise he had not time to think of assuming either the nasal drone or
the scriptural words peculiar to these black-coated gentry. Struck by
his tone, the sergeant sprang forward and seized his bridle.

"Whom have we here?" he said; "a lad masquerading in the dress of a
preacher. This must be explained, young sir."

"Sergeant," Harry said, "I doubt not that thou art a good fellow, and
not one to get a lad in a scrape. I am the son of a London citizen; but
he and my mother are at present greatly more occupied with the state of
their souls than with the carrying on of their carnal business. Being
young, the constant offering up of prayers and exhortations has vexed me
almost to desperation, and yesterday, while the good preacher who
attends then was in the midst of the third hour of his discourse I stole
downstairs, and borrowing his hat and cloak, together with his horse,
determined to set out to join my uncle, who is a farmer down in
Gloucestershire, and where in sooth the companionship of his
daughters--girls of my own age--suits my disposition greatly better than
that of the excellent men with whom my father consorts."

The soldiers laughed, and the sergeant, who was not at heart a bad
fellow, said:

"I fear, my young sir, that your disposition is a godless one, and that
it would have been far better for you to have remained under the
ministration of the good man whose hat you are wearing than to have
sought the society of your pretty cousins. However, I do not know but
that in the unregenerate days of my own youth I might not have attempted
an escapade like yours. I trust," he continued, "you are not tainted
with the evil doctrines of the adherents of King Charles."

"In truth," Harry said, "I worry not my head with politics. I hear so
much of them that I am fairly sick of the subject, and have not yet
decided whether the Commons is composed of an assembly of men directly
inspired with power for the regeneration of mankind, or whether King
Charles be a demon in human shape. Methinks that when I grow old enough
to bear arms it will be time enough for me to make up my mind against
whom to use them. At present, a clothyard is the stick to which I am
most accustomed, and as plows and harrows are greatly more in accord
with my disposition, I hope that for a long time I shall not see the
interior of a shop again; and I trust that the quarrels which have
brought such trouble into this realm, and have well-nigh made my father
and mother distraught, will at least favor my sojourn in the country,
for I am sure that my father will not venture to traverse England for
the sake of bringing me back again."

"I am not sure," the sergeant said, "that my duty would not be to
arrest you and to send you back to London. But as, in truth, I have no
instructions to hinder travelers, I must even let you go."

With a merry farewell to the group, and a laugh far more in accordance
with his years than with the costume which he wore, Harry set spurs to
his horse and again rode forward.

He met with no further adventure on the road. When he found by inquiries
that he had passed the outposts of the Parliament forces, he joyfully
threw the hat, the bands, and cloak into a ditch, for experience had
taught him that, however useful as a passport they might be while still
within the lines of the troops of the Commons, they would be likely to
procure him but scant welcome when he entered those of the Royalists.
Round Oxford the royal army were encamped, and Harry speedily discovered
that his father was with his troop at his own place. Turning his head
again eastward, he rode to Abingdon, and quickly afterward was at the
hall.

The shout of welcome which the servitor who opened the door uttered when
he saw him speedily brought his father to the entrance, and Sir Henry
was overjoyed at seeing the son whom he believed to be in confinement in
London. Harry's tale was soon told, and the colonel roared with laughter
at the thought of his boy masquerading as a Puritan preacher.

"King Charles himself," he said, "might smile over your story, Harry;
and in faith it takes a great deal to call up a smile into his majesty's
face, which is, methinks a pity, for he would be more loved, and not
less respected, did he, by his appearance and manner, do something to
raise the spirits of those around him."

When once seated in the hall Harry inquired of his father what progress
had been made since he was taken prisoner, for he had heard nothing from
his guards.

"Things are as they were," his father said. "After our unfortunate
advance we fell back hither, and for six weeks nothing was done. A
fortnight since, on the 2d of January, a petition was brought by
deputies from the Common Council of London, asking the king to return to
the capital when all disturbance should be suppressed. King Charles,
however, knew not that these gentlemen had the power to carry out their
promises seeing that the seditious have the upper hand in the capital,
and answered them to that effect. His answer was, however, methinks, far
less conciliatory and prudent than it might have been, for it boots not
to stir up men's minds unnecessarily, and with a few affectionate words
the king might have strengthened his party in London. The result,
however, was to lead to a fierce debate, in which Pym and Lord
Manchester addressed the multitude, and stirred them up to indignation,
and I fear that prospects of peace are further away than ever. In other
respects there is good and bad news. Yorkshire and Cheshire, Devon and
Cornwall, have all declared for the crown; but upon the other hand, in
the east the prospects are most gloomy. There, the seven counties,
Norfolk, Suffolk, Essex, Cambridge, Herts, Lincoln, and Huntingdon, have
joined themselves into an association, and the king's followers dare not
lift their heads. At Lichfield, Lord Brook, a fierce opponent of bishops
and cathedrals, while besieging a party of Cavaliers who had taken
possession of the close, was shot in the eye and killed. These are the
only incidents that have taken place."

For some weeks no event of importance occurred. On the 22d of February
the queen, who had been absent on the Continent selling her jewels and
endeavoring to raise a force, landed at Burlington, with four ships,
having succeeded in evading the ships of war which the Commons had
dispatched to cut her off, under the command of Admiral Batten. That
night, however, the Parliament fleet arrived off the place, and opened
fire upon the ships and village. The queen was in a house near the
shore, and the balls struck in all directions round. She was forced to
get up, throw on a few clothes, and retire on foot to some distance from
the village to the shelter of a ditch, where she sat for two hours, the
balls sometimes striking dust over them, and singing round in all
directions. It was a question whether the small force which the queen
brought with her was not rather a hindrance than an assistance to the
royal cause, for the Earl of Newcastle, who had been sent to escort her
to York, was authorized by the king to raise men for the service,
without examining their consciences, that is to say, to receive
Catholics as well as Protestants. The Parliament took advantage of this
to style his army the Catholic Army, and this, and some tamperings with
the Papists in Ireland, increased the popular belief that the king
leaned toward Roman Catholicism, and thus heightened the feelings
against him, and embittered the religious as well as the political
quarrel.

Toward the end of March commissioners from the Parliament, under the
Earl of Northumberland, came to Oxford with propositions to treat. It is
questionable whether the offers of the Commons were sincere. But
Charles, by his vacillation and hesitation, by yielding one day and
retracting the next, gave them the opportunity of asserting, with some
show of reason, that he was wholly insincere, and could not be trusted;
and so the commission was recalled, and the war went on again.

On the 15th of April Parliament formally declared the negotiations to be
at an end, and on that day Essex marched with his army to the siege of
Reading. The place was fortified, and had a resolute garrison; but by
some gross oversight no provisions or stores had been collected, and
after an unsuccessful attempt to relieve the town, when the Royalist
forces failed to carry the bridge at Caversham, they fell back upon
Wallingford, and Reading surrendered. Meanwhile skirmishes were going on
all over the country. Sir William Waller was successful against the
Royalists in the south and west. In the north Lord Newcastle was opposed
to Fairfax, and the result was doubtful; while in Cornwall the Royalists
had gained a battle over the Parliament men under Lord Stamford.

Meanwhile, the king was endeavoring to create a party in the Parliament,
and Lady Aubigny was intrusted with the negotiations. The plot was,
however, discovered. Several members of Parliament were arrested, and
two executed by orders of the Parliament.

Early in June Colonel Furness and his troop were called into Oxford, as
it was considered probable that some expeditions would be undertaken,
and on the 17th of that month Prince Rupert formed up his horse and
sallied out against the outlying pickets and small troops of the
Parliament. Several of these he surprised and cut up, and on the morning
of the 19th reached Chalgrove Field, near Thame. Hampden was in command
of a detachment of Parliamentary troops in this neighborhood, and
sending word to Essex, who lay near, to come up to his assistance,
attacked Prince Rupert's force. His men, however, could not stand
against the charge of the Royalists. They were completely defeated, and
Hampden, one of the noblest characters of his age, was shot through the
shoulder. He managed to keep his horse, and ride across country to
Thame, where he hoped to obtain medical assistance. After six days of
pain he died there, and thus England lost the only man who could, in
the days that were to come, have moderated, and perhaps defeated, the
ambition of Cromwell.

Essex arrived upon the scene of battle a few minutes after the defeat of
Hampden's force, and Prince Rupert fell back, and crossing the Thames
returned to Oxford, having inflicted much damage upon the enemy.

Shortly after this event, one of the serving men rushed in to Harry with
the news that a strong band of Parliament horse were within three or
four miles of the place, and were approaching. Harry at once sent for
the steward, and a dozen men were summoned in all haste. On their
arrival they set to work to strip the hall of its most valued furniture.
The pictures were taken down from the walls, the silver and plate
tumbled into chests, the arms and armor worn by generations of the
Furnesses removed from the armory, the choicest articles of furniture of
a portable character put into carts, together with some twenty casks of
the choicest wine in the cellars, and in four hours only the heavier
furniture, the chairs and tables, buffets and heavy sideboards remained
in their places.

Just as the carts were filled news came that the enemy had ridden into
Abingdon. Night was now coming on, and the carts at once started with
their contents for distant farms, where the plate and wine were to be
buried in holes dug in copses, and other places little likely to be
searched by the Puritans. The pictures and furniture were stowed away in
lofts and covered deeply with hay.

Having seen the furniture sent off, Harry awaited the arrival of the
Parliament bands, which he doubted not would be dispatched by the
Puritans among the townspeople to the hall. The stables were already
empty except for Rollo, Harry's own horse. This he had at once, the
alarm being given, sent off to a farm a mile distant from the hall, and
with it its saddle, bridle, and his arms, a brace of rare pistols,
breast and back pieces, a steel cap with plumes, and his sword. It cost
him an effort to part with the last, for he now carried it habitually.
But he thought that it might be taken from him, and, moreover, he feared
that he might be driven into drawing it, when the consequences might be
serious, not only for himself, but for the mansion of which his father
had left him in charge.

At nine a servitor came in to say that a party of men were riding up the
drive. Harry seated himself in the colonel's armchair, and repeated to
himself the determination at which he had arrived of being perfectly
calm and collected, and of bearing himself with patience and dignity.
Presently he heard the clatter of horses' hoofs in the courtyard, and
two minutes later, the tramp of feet in the passage. The door opened,
and an officer entered, followed by five or six soldiers.

This man was one of the worst types of Roundhead officers. He was a
London draper, whose violent harangues had brought him into notice, and
secured for him a commission in the raw levies when they were first
raised. Harry rose as he entered.

"You are the son of the man who is master of this house?" the officer
said roughly.

"I am his son and representative," Harry said calmly.

"I hear that he is a malignant fighting in the ranks of King Charles."

"My father is a colonel in the army of his gracious majesty the king,"
Harry said.

"You are an insolent young dog!" the captain exclaimed. "We will teach
you manners," and rising from the seat into which he had thrown himself
on entering the hall, he struck Harry heavily in the face.

The boy staggered back against the wall; then with a bound he snatched
a sword from the hand of one of the troopers, and before the officer had
time to recoil or throw up his hands, he smote him with all his force
across the face. With a terrible cry the officer fell back, and Harry,
throwing down the sword, leaped through the open window into the garden
and dashed into the shrubberies, as half a dozen balls from the pistols
of the astonished troopers whizzed about his head.

For a few minutes he ran at the top of his speed, as he heard shouts and
pistol shots behind him. But he knew that in the darkness strangers
would have no chance whatever of overtaking him, and he slackened his
pace into a trot. As he ran he took himself to task for not having acted
up to his resolution. But the reflection that his father would not
disapprove of his having cut down the man who had struck him consoled
him, and he kept on his way to the farm where he had left his horse. In
other respects, he felt a wild delight at what had happened. There was
nothing for him now but to join the Royal army, and his father could
hardly object to his taking his place with the regiment.

"I wish I had fifty of them here," he thought to himself; "we would
surround the hall, and pay these traitors dearly. As for their captain,
I would hang him over the door with my own hands. The cowardly ruffian,
to strike an unarmed boy! At any rate I have spoiled his beauty for him,
for I pretty nearly cut his face in two, I shall know him by the scar if
I ever meet him in battle, and then we will finish the quarrel.

"I shall not be able to see out of my right eye in the morning," he
grumbled; "and shall be a nice figure when I ride into Oxford."

As he approached the farm he slackened his speed to a walk; and neared
the house very carefully, for he thought it possible that one of the
parties of the enemy might already have taken up his quarters there. The
silence that reigned, broken by the loud barking of dogs as he came
close, proved that no stranger had yet arrived, and he knocked loudly at
the door. Presently an upper window was opened, and a woman's voice
inquired who he was, and what he wanted.

"I am Harry Furness, Dame Arden," he said. "The Roundheads are at the
hall, and I have sliced their captain's face; so I must be away with all
speed. Please get the men up, and lose not a moment; I want my arms and
horse."

The farmer's wife lost no time in arousing the house, and in a very few
minutes all was ready. One man saddled the horse, while another buckled
on Harry's breast and back pieces; and with a hearty good-by, and amid
many prayers for his safety and speedy return with the king's troops,
Harry rode off into the darkness. For awhile he rode cautiously,
listening intently lest he might fall into the hands of some of the
Roundhead bands. But all was quiet, and after placing another mile or
two between himself and Abingdon, he concluded that he was safe, drew
Rollo's reins tighter, pressed him with his knees, and started at full
gallop for Oxford.




CHAPTER V.

A MISSION OF STATE.


When Harry rode into Oxford with the news that the Roundheads had made a
raid as far as Abingdon, no time was lost in sounding to boot and
saddle, and in half an hour the Cavalier horse were trotting briskly in
that direction. They entered Abingdon unopposed, and found to their
disgust that the Roundheads had departed an hour after their arrival. A
party went up to Furness Hall, and found it also deserted. The
Roundheads, in fact, had made but a flying raid, had carried off one or
two of the leading Royalists in the town, and had, on their retirement,
been accompanied by several of the party favorable to the Commons, among
others, Master Rippinghall and the greater portion of his men, who had,
it was suspected, been already enrolled for the service of the
Parliament. Some of the Royalists would fain have sacked the house of
the wool-stapler; but Colonel Furness, who had accompanied the force
with his troop, opposed this vehemently.

"As long as we can," he said, "let private houses be respected. If the
Puritans commence, it will be time for us to retort. There are
gentlemen's mansions all over the country, many of them in the heart of
Roundhead neighborhoods, and if they had once an excuse in our
proceedings not one of these would be safe for a minute."

Leaving a strong force of horse in Abingdon, Prince Rupert returned to
Oxford, and Colonel Furness again settled down in his residence, his
troop dispersing to their farms until required, a small body only
remaining at Furness Hall as a guard, and in readiness to call the
others to arms if necessary. The colonel warmly approved of the steps
that Harry had taken to save the valuables, and determined that until
the war was at an end these should remain hidden, as it was probable
enough that the chances of the strife might again lead the Roundheads
thither.

"I hope, father," Harry Furness said the following day, "that you will
now permit me to join the troop. I am getting on for sixteen, and could
surely bear myself as a man in the fray."

"If the time should come, Harry, when the fortune of war may compel the
king to retire from Oxford--which I trust may never be--I would then
grant your request, for after your encounter with the officer who
commanded the Roundheads here, it would not be safe for you to remain
behind. But although you are too young to take part in the war, I may
find you employment. After a council that was held yesterday at Oxford,
I learned, from one in the king's secrets, that it was designed to send
a messenger to London with papers of importance, and to keep up the
communication with the king's friends in that city. There was some
debate as to who should be chosen. In London, at the present time, all
strangers are closely scrutinized. Every man is suspicious of his
neighbor, and it is difficult to find one of sufficient trust whose
person is unknown. Then I have thought that maybe you could well fulfill
this important mission. A boy would be unsuspected, where a man's every
movement would be watched. There is, of course, some danger attending
the mission, and sharpness and readiness will be needed. You have shown
that you possess these, by the manner in which you made your escape from
London, and methinks that, did you offer, your services would be
accepted. You would have, of course, to go in disguise, and to accept
any situation which might appear conformable to your character and add
to your safety."

Harry at once gladly assented to the proposal. He was at the age when
lads are most eager for adventure, and he thought that it would be great
fun to be living in London, watching the doings of the Commons, and, so
far as was in his power, endeavoring to thwart them. Accordingly in the
afternoon he rode over with Sir Henry to Oxford. They dismounted in the
courtyard of the building which served as the king's court, and
entering, Sir Henry left Harry in an antechamber, and, craving an
audience with his majesty, was at once ushered into the king's cabinet.
A few minutes later he returned, and motioned to Harry to follow him.
The latter did so, and the next moment found himself in the presence of
the king. The latter held out his hand for the boy to kiss, and Harry,
falling on one knee, and greatly abashed at the presence in which he
found himself, pressed his lips to King Charles' hand.

"I hear from your father, my trusty Sir Henry Furness, that you are
willing to adventure your life in our cause, and to go as our messenger
to London, and act there as our intermediary with our friends. You seem
young for so delicate a work; but your father has told me somewhat of
the manner in which you escaped from the hands of the traitors at
Westminster, and also how you bore yourself in the affair with the
rebels at his residence. It seems to me, then, that we must not judge
your wisdom by your years, and that we can safely confide our interests
in your hands. Your looks are frank and boyish, and will, therefore,
excite far less suspicion than that which would attend upon an older and
graver-looking personage. The letters will be prepared for you
to-morrow, and, believe me, should success finally crown our efforts
against these enemies of the crown, your loyalty and devotion will not
be forgotten by your king."

He again held out his hand to Harry, and the boy left the cabinet with
his heart burning with loyalty toward his monarch, and resolved that
life itself should be held cheap if it could be spent in the service of
so gracious and majestic a king.

The next morning a royal messenger brought out a packet of letters to
Furness Hall, and Harry, mounting with his father and the little body of
horse at the hall, rode toward London. His attire was that of a country
peasant boy. The letters were concealed in the hollow of a stout ashen
stick which he carried, and which had been slightly weighted with lead,
so that, should it be taken up by any but its owner, its lightness would
not attract attention. Sir Henry rode with him as far as it was prudent
to do toward the outposts of the Parliament troops. Then, bidding him a
tender farewell, and impressing upon him the necessity for the utmost
caution, both for his own sake and for that of the king, he left him.

It was not upon the highroad that they parted, but near a village some
little distance therefrom. In his pocket Harry had two or three pieces
of silver, and between the soles of his boots were sewn several gold
coins. These he did not anticipate having to use; but the necessity
might arise when such a deposit would prove of use. Harry walked quietly
through the village, where his appearance was unnoticed, and then along
the road toward Reading. He soon met a troop of Parliament horsemen; but
as he was sauntering along quietly, as if merely going from one village
to another, no attention whatever was paid to him, and he reached
Reading without the slightest difficulty. There he took up his abode for
the night at a small hostelry, mentioning to the host that his master
had wanted him to join the king's forces, but that he had no stomach for
fighting, and intended to get work in the town. The following morning he
again started, and proceeded as far as Windsor, where he slept. The next
day, walking through Hounslow and Brentford, he stopped for the night at
the village of Kensington, and the following morning entered the city.
Harry had never before been in the streets of London, for in his flight
from his prison he had at once issued into the country, and the bustle
and confusion which prevailed excited great surprise in his mind. Even
Oxford, busy as it was at the time, and full of the troops of the king
and of the noblemen and gentlemen who had rallied to his cause, was yet
quiet when compared with London. The booths along the main streets were
filled with goods, and at these the apprentices shouted loudly to all
passer-by, "What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack?" Here was a mercer
exhibiting dark cloths to a grave-looking citizen; there an armorer was
showing the temper of his wares to an officer. Citizens' wives were
shopping and gossiping; groups of men, in high steeple hats and dark
cloak, were moving along the streets. Pack horses carried goods from the
ships at the wharves below the bridge to the merchants, and Harry was
jostled hither and thither by the moving crowd. Ascending the hill of
Ludgate to the great cathedral of St. Paul's, he saw a crowd gathered
round a person on an elevated stand in the yard, and approaching to see
what was going on, found that a preacher was pouring forth anathemas
against the king and the Royal party, and inciting the citizens to throw
themselves heart and soul into the cause. Especially severe was he upon
waverers, who, he said, were worse than downright enemies, as, while the
one withstood the Parliament openly in fair fight, the others were
shifted to and fro with each breeze, and none could say whether they
were friends or enemies. Passing through the cathedral, where regular
services were no longer held, but where, in different corners, preachers
were holding forth against the king, and where groups of men strolled up
and down, talking of the troubles of the times, he issued at the eastern
door, and entering Cheapside, saw the sign of the merchant to whom he
had been directed.

This was Nicholas Fleming, a man of Dutch descent, and well spoken of
among his fellows. He dealt in silks and velvets from Genoa. His shop
presented less outward appearance than did those of his neighbors, the
goods being too rich and rare to be exposed to the weather, and he
himself dealing rather with smaller traders than with the general
public. The merchant--a grave-looking man--was sitting at his desk when
Harry entered. A clerk was in the shop, engaged in writing, and an
apprentice was rolling up a piece of silk. Harry removed his hat, and
went up to the merchant's table, and laying a letter upon it, said:

"I have come, sir, from Dame Marjory, my aunt, who was your honor's
nurse, with a letter from her, praying you to take me as an apprentice."

The merchant glanced for a moment at the boy. He was expecting a message
from the Royalist camp, and his keen wit at once led him to suspect that
the bearer stood before him, although his appearance in nowise justified
such a thought, for Harry had assumed with his peasant clothes a look of
stolid stupidity which certainly gave no warrant for the thought that a
keen spirit lay behind it. Without a word the merchant opened the
letter, which, in truth, contained nearly the same words which Harry had
spoken, but whose signature was sufficient to the merchant to indicate
that his suspicions were correct.

"Sit down," he said to the lad. "I am busy now; but will talk with you
anon."

Harry took his seat on a low stool, while the merchant continued his
writing as before, as if the incident were too unimportant to arrest his
attention for a moment. Harry amused himself by looking round the shop,
and was specially attracted by the movements of the apprentice, a
sharp-looking lad, rather younger than himself, and who, having heard
what had passed, seized every opportunity, when he was so placed that
neither the merchant nor his clerk could observe his face to make
grimaces at Harry, indicative of contempt and derision. Harry was sorely
tempted to laugh; but, with an effort, he kept his countenance, assuming
only a grim of wonder which greatly gratified Jacob, who thought that he
had obtained as companion a butt who would afford him infinite
amusement.

After the merchant had continued his writing for an hour, he laid down
his pen, and saying to Harry "Follow me; I will speak to Dame Alice, my
wife, concerning thee," left the shop and entered the inner portion of
the house, followed by Harry. The merchant led him into a sitting-room
on the floor above, where his wife, a comely dame, was occupied with her
needle.

"Dame," he said, "this is a new apprentice whom my nurse, Marjory, has
sent me. A promising-looking youth, is he not?"

His wife looked at him in surprise.

"I have never heard thee speak of thy nurse, Nicholas, and surely the
lad looks not apt to learning the mysteries of a trade like thine."

The merchant smiled gravely.

"He must be more apt than he looks, dame, or he would never have been
chosen for the service upon which he is engaged. Men do not send fools
to risk their lives; and I have been watching him for the last hour, and
have observed how he bore himself under the tricks of that jackanapes,
Jacob, and verily the wonder which I at first felt when he presented
himself to me has passed away, and what appeared to me at first sight a
strange imprudence, seems now to be a piece of wisdom. But enough of
riddles," he said, seeing that his wife's astonishment increased as he
went on. "This lad is a messenger from Oxford, and bears, I doubt not,
important documents. What is thy true name, boy?"

"I am Harry Furness, the son of Sir Henry Furness, one of the king's
officers," Harry said; "and my papers are concealed within this staff."

Thereupon he lifted his stick and showed that at the bottom a piece of
wood had been artfully fitted into a hollow, and then, by being rubbed
upon the ground, so worn as to appear part of a solid whole. Taking his
knife from his pocket, he cut off an inch from the lower end of the
stick, and then shook out on to the table a number of slips of paper
tightly rolled together.

"I will examine these at my leisure," the merchant said; "and now as to
thyself. What instructions have you?"

"I am told, sir, to take up my abode with you, if it so pleases you; to
assume the garb and habits of an apprentice; and, moreover, to do such
messages as you may give me, and which, perhaps, I may perform with less
risk of observation, and with more fidelity than any ordinary
messenger."

"The proposal is a good one," the trader said. "I am often puzzled how
to send notes to those of my neighbors with whom I am in
correspondence, for the lad Jacob is sharp--too sharp, indeed, for my
purpose, and might suspect the purport of his goings and comings. I
believe him to be faithful, though overapt to mischief. But in these
days one cares not to risk one's neck unless on a surety. The first
thing will be, then, to procure for thee a suit of clothes, suitable to
thy new position. Under the plea that at present work is but slack--for
indeed the troubles of the times have well-nigh ruined the trade in such
goods as mine, throwing it all into the hands of the smiths--I shall be
able to grant thee some license, and to allow thee to go about and see
the city and acquaint thyself with its ways. Master Jacob may feel,
perhaps, a little jealous; but this matters not. I somewhat misdoubt the
boy, though perhaps unjustly. But I know not how his opinions may go
toward matters politic. He believes me, I think, as do other men, to be
attached to the present state of things; but even did his thoughts jump
otherwise, he would not have opened his lips before me. It would be
well, therefore, for you to be cautious in the extreme with him, and to
find out of a verity what be his nature and disposition. Doubtless, in
time, he will unbosom to you and you may see whether he has any
suspicions, and how far he is to be trusted. He was recommended to me
by a friend at Poole, and I know not the opinions of his people. I will
come forth with you now and order the clothes without delay, and we will
return in time for dinner, which will be at twelve, of which time it now
lacks half an hour."

Putting on his high hat, the merchant sallied out with Harry into the
Cheap, and going to a clothier's was able to purchase ready-made
garments suitable to his new position as a 'prentice boy. Returning with
these, he bade the lad mount to the room which he was to share Jacob,
to change with all speed, and to come down to dinner, which was now
nearly ready.

The meal was to Harry a curious one. The merchant sat at one end of the
table, his wife at the other. The scrivener occupied a place on one
side, and his fellow-apprentice and himself on the other. The merchant
spoke to his wife on the troubles of the times in a grave, oracular
voice, which appeared to be intended chiefly for the edification of his
three assistants, who ate their dinner in silence, only saying a word or
two in answer to any question addressed to them. Harry, who was
accustomed to dine with his father, was somewhat nice in his ways of
eating. But, observing a sudden look of interest and suspicion upon the
face of the sharp boy beside him at his manner of eating, he, without
making so sudden a change as to be perceptible, gradually fell into the
way of eating of his companion, mentally blaming himself severely for
having for a moment forgotten his assumed part.

"I shall not need you this afternoon, Roger," the merchant said; "and
you can go out and view the sights of the city. Avoid getting into any
quarrels or broils, and especially observe the names writ up on the
corner of the houses, in order that you may learn the streets and so be
able to find your way about should I send you with messages or goods."

Harry spent the afternoon as directed, and was mightily amused and
entertained by the sights which he witnessed. Especially was he
interested in London Bridge, which, covered closely with houses,
stretched across the river, and at the great fleet of vessels which lay
moored to the wharves below. Here Harry spent the greater portion of the
afternoon, watching the numerous boats as they shot the bridge, and the
barges receiving merchandise from the vessels.

At five o'clock the shop was shut, and at six supper was served in the
same order as dinner had been. At eight they retired to bed.

"Well, Master Roger," said Jacob, when they were done, "and what is thy
father?"

"He farms a piece of land of his own," Harry said. "Sometimes I live
with him; but more often with my uncle, who is a trader in Bristol--a
man of some wealth, and much respected by the citizens."

"Ah! it is there that thou hast learnt thy tricks of eating," Jacob
said. "I wondered to see thee handle thy knife and fork so daintily, and
in a manner which assuredly smacked of the city rather than of the
farm."

"My uncle," Harry said, "is a particular man as to his habits, and as
many leading citizens of the town often take their meals at his house,
he was ever worrying me to behave, as he said, more like a Christian
than a hog. What a town is this London! What heaps of people, and what
wonderful sights!"

"Yes," the apprentice said carelessly. "But you have as yet seen
nothing. You should see the giant with eight heads, at the Guildhall."

"A giant with eight heads?" Henry exclaimed wonderingly. "Why, he have
five more than the giant whom my mother told me of when I was little,
that was killed by Jack, the Giant Killer. I must go and see him of a
surety.'"

"You must mind," the apprentice said; "for a boy is served up for him
every morning for breakfast."

"Now you are trying to fool me," Harry said. "My mother warned me that
the boys of London were wickedly disposed, and given to mock at
strangers. But I tell thee, Master Jacob, that I have a heavy fist, and
was considered a fighter in the village. Therefore, mind how thou triest
to fool me. Mother always said I was not such a fool as I looked."

"You may well be that," Jacob said, "and yet a very big fool. But at
present I do not know whether your folly is more than skin deep, and
methinks that the respectable trader, your uncle, has taught you more
than how to eat like a Christian."

Harry felt at once that in this sharp boy he had a critic far more
dangerous than any he was likely to meet elsewhere. Others would pass
him unnoticed; but his fellow-apprentice would criticise every act and
word, and he felt somewhat disquieted to find that he had fallen under
such supervision. It was now, he felt, all-important for him to discover
what were the real sentiments of the boy, and whether he was trustworthy
to his master, and to be relied upon to keep the secret which had fallen
into his possession.

"I have been," he said, "in the big church at the end of this street.
What a pother the preachers do surely keep up there. I should be sorely
worried to hear them long, and would rather thrash out a load of corn
than listen long to the clacking of their tongues."

"Thou wilt be sicker still of them before thou hast done with them. It
is one of the duties of us apprentices to listen to the teachers, and if
I had my way, we would have an apprentices' riot, and demand to be kept
to the terms of our indentures, which say nothing about preachers. What
is the way of thinking of this uncle of yours?"

"He is a prudent man," Roger said, "and says but little. For myself, I
care nothing either way, and cannot understand what they are making this
pother about. So far as I can see, folks only want to be quiet, and do
their work. But even in our village at home there is no quiet now. Some
are one way, some t'other. There are the Church folk, and the
meeting-house folk, and it is as much as they can do to keep themselves
from going at each other's throats. I hear so much about it that my
brain gets stupid with it all, and I hate Parliament and king worse than
the schoolmaster who used to whack me for never knowing the difference
between one letter and another."

"But you can read and write, I suppose?" Jacob said; "or you would be of
little use as an apprentice."

"Yes, I can read and write," Roger said; "but I cannot say that I love
these things. I doubt me that I am not fitter for the plow than for a
trade. But my Aunt Marjory was forever going on about my coming to
London, and entering the shop of Master Nicholas Fleming, and as it
seemed an easy thing to sell yards of silks and velvets, I did not stand
against her wishes, especially as she promised that if in a year's time
I did not like the life, she would ask Master Nicholas to cancel my
indentures, and let me go back again to the farm."

"Ah, well," Jacob said, "it is useful to have an aunt who has been nurse
to a city merchant. The life is not a bad one, though our master is
strict with all. But Dame Alice is a good housewife, and has a light
hand at confections, and when there are good things on the table she
does not, as do most of the wives of the traders, keep them for herself
and her husband, but lets us have a share also."

"I am fond of confections,", Harry said; "and my Aunt Marjory is famous
at them; and now, as I am very sleepy, I will go off. But methinks,
Jacob, that you take up hugely more than your share of the bed."

After a little grumbling on both sides the boys disposed themselves to
sleep, each wondering somewhat over the character of the other, and
determining to make a better acquaintance shortly.




CHAPTER VI.

A NARROW ESCAPE.


During the next few days Harry was kept hard at work delivering the
various minute documents which he had brought in the hollow of his
stick. Sometimes of an evening he attended his master to the houses
where he had taken such messages, and once or twice was called in to be
present at discussions, and asked to explain various matters connected
with the position of the king. During this time he saw but little of the
apprentice Jacob, except at his meals, and as the boy did not touch upon
his frequent absence, or make any allusion to political matters, when in
their bedroom alone at night, Harry hoped that his suspicions had been
allayed.

One morning, however, on waking up, he saw the boy sitting upright in
bed, staring fixedly at him.

"What is the matter; Jacob, and what are you doing?"

"I am wondering who and what you are!" the boy said.

"I am Roger, your fellow apprentice," Harry replied, laughing.

"I am not sure that you are Roger; I am not sure that you are an
apprentice," the boy said. "But if you were, that would not tell me who
you are. If you were merely Roger the apprentice, Dame Alice would not
pick out all the tit-bits at dinner, and put them on your plate, while I
and Master Hardwood have to put up with any scraps which may come. Nor
do I think that, even for the purpose of carrying his cloak, our master
would take you with him constantly of an evening. He seems mighty
anxious too, for you to learn your way about London. I do not remember
that he showed any such care as to my geographical knowledge. But, of
course, there is a mystery, and I want to get to the bottom of it, and
mean to do so if I can."

"Even supposing that there was a mystery," Harry said, "what good would
it do to you to learn it, and what use would you make of your
knowledge?"

"I do not know," the boy said carelessly. "But knowledge is power."

"You see," Harry said, "that supposing there were, as you say, a
mystery, the secret would not be mine to tell, and even were it so
before I told it, I should want to know whether you desired to know it
for the sake of aiding your master, if possible, or of doing him an
injury.

"I would do him no injury, assuredly," Jacob said. "Master Fleming is as
good a master as there is in London. I want to find out, because it is
my nature to find out. The mere fact that there is a mystery excites my
curiosity, and compels me to do all in my power to get to the bottom of
it. Methinks that if you have aught that you do not want known, it would
be better to take Jacob Plummer into your confidence. Many a man's head
has been lost before now because he did not know whom to trust."

"There is no question of losing heads in the matter," Harry said,
smiling.

"Well, you know best," Jacob replied, shrugging his shoulders; "but
heads do not seem very firmly on at present."

When he went out with Master Fleming that evening Harry related to him
the conversation which he had had with Jacob.

"What think you, Master Furness? Is this malapert boy to be trusted, or
not?"

"It were difficult to say, sir," Harry answered. "His suspicions are
surely roused, and as it seemed to me that his professions of affection
and duty toward yourself were earnest, methinks that you might enlist
him in your cause, and would find him serviceable hereafter, did you
allow me frankly to speak to him. He has friends among the apprentice
boys, and might, should he be mischievously inclined, set one to follow
us of a night, and learn whither you go; he might even now do much
mischief. I think that it is his nature to love plotting for its own
sake. He would rather plot on your side than against it; but if you will
not have him, he may go against you."

"I have a good mind to send him home to his friends," the merchant said.
"He can know nothing as yet."

"He might denounce me as a Royalist," Harry said; "and you for harboring
me. I will sound him again to-night, and see further into his
intentions. But methinks it would be best to trust him."

That night the conversation was again renewed.

"You see, Jacob," Harry said, "that it would be a serious matter,
supposing what you think to be true, to intrust you with the secret. I
know not whether you are disposed toward king or Parliament, and to put
the lives of many honorable gentlemen into the hands of one of whose
real disposition I know little would be but a fool's trick."

"You speak fairly, Roger," the boy said. "Indeed, What I said to you was
true. I trouble my head in no way as to the politics and squabbles of
the present day; but I mean to rise some day, and there is no better way
to rise than to be mixed up in a plot. It is true that the rise may be
to the gallows; but if one plays for high stakes, one must risk one's
purse. I love excitement, and believe that I am no fool. I can at least
be true to the side that I engage upon, and of the two, would rather
take that of the king than of the Parliament, because it seems to me
that there are more fools on his side than on the other, and therefore
more chance for a wise head to prosper."

Harry laughed.

"You have no small opinion of yourself, Master Jacob."

"No," the boy said; "I always found myself able to hold my own. My
father, who is a scrivener, predicted me that I should either come to
wealth or be hanged, and I am of the same opinion myself."

After further conversation next day with the merchant, Harry frankly
confided to Jacob that evening that he was the bearer of letters from
the king. Of their contents he said that he knew nothing; but had reason
to believe that another movement was on foot for bringing about the
overthrow of the party of Puritans who were in possession of the
government of London.

"I deemed that such was your errand," the boy said. "You played your
part well; but not well enough. You might have deceived grown-up people;
but you would hardly take in a boy of your own age. Now that you have
told me frankly, I will, if I can, do anything to aid. I care nothing
for the opinions of one side or the other; but as I have to go to the
cathedral three times on Sunday, and to sit each time for two hours
listening to the harangues of Master Ezekiel Proudfoot, I would gladly
join in anything which would be likely to end by silencing that fellow
and his gang. It is monstrous that, upon the only day in the week we
have to ourselves, we should be compelled to undergo the punishment of
listening to these long-winded divines."

When Harry was not engaged in taking notes, backward and forward,
between the merchant and those with whom he was negotiating, he was
occupied in the shop. There the merchant kept up appearances before the
scrivener and any customers who might come in, by instructing him in the
mysteries of his trade; by showing him the value of the different
velvets and silks; and by teaching him his private marks, by which, in
case of the absence of the merchant or his apprentice, he could state
the price of any article to a trader who might come in. Harry judged, by
the conversations which he had with his host, that the latter was not
sanguine as to the success of the negotiations which he was carrying on.

"If," he said, "the king could obtain one single victory, his friends
would raise their heads, and would assuredly be supported by the great
majority of the population, who wish only for peace; but so long as the
armies stood facing each other, and the Puritans are all powerful in the
Parliament and Council of the city, men are afraid to be the first to
move, not being sure how popular support would be given."

One evening after work was over Harry and Jacob walked together up the
Cheap, and took their place among a crowd listening to a preacher at
Paul's Cross. He was evidently a popular character, and a large number
of grave men, of the straitest Puritan appearance, were gathered round
him.

"I wish we could play some trick with these somber-looking knaves,"
Jacob whispered.

"Yes," Harry said; "I would give much to be able to do so; but at the
present moment I scarcely wish to draw attention upon myself."

"Let us get out of this, then," Jacob said, "if there is no fun to be
had. I am sick of these long-winded orations."

They turned to go, and as they made their way through the crowd, Harry
trod upon the toe of a small man in a high steeple hat and black coat.

"I beg your pardon," Harry said, as there burst from the lips of the
little man an exclamation which was somewhat less decorous than would
have been expected from a personage so gravely clad. The little man
stared Harry in the face, and uttered another exclamation, this time of
surprise. Harry, to his dismay, saw that the man with whom he had come
in contact was the preacher whom he had left gagged on the guardroom bed
at Westminster.

"A traitor! A spy!" shouted the preacher, at the top of his voice,
seizing Harry by the doublet. The latter shook himself free just as
Jacob, jumping in the air, brought his hand down with all his force on
the top of the steeple hat, wedging it over the eyes of the little man.
Before any further effort could be made to seize them, the two lads
dived through the crowd, and dashed down a lane leading toward the
river.

This sudden interruption to the service caused considerable excitement,
and the little preacher, on being extricated from his hat, furiously
proclaimed that the lad he had seized, dressed as an apprentice, was a
malignant, who had been taken prisoner at Brentford, and who had foully
ill-treated him in a cell in the guardroom at Finsbury. Instantly a
number of men set off in pursuit.

"What had we best do, Jacob?" Harry said, as he heard the clattering of
feet behind them.

"We had best jump into a boat," Jacob said, "and row for it. It is dark
now, and we shall soon be out of their sight."

At the bottom of the lane were some stairs, and at these a number of
boats. As it was late in the evening, and the night a foul one, the
watermen, not anticipating fares, had left, and the boys, leaping into a
boat, put out the sculls, and rowed into the stream, just as their
pursuers were heard coming down the lane.

"Which way shall we go?" Harry said.

"We had better shoot the bridge," Jacob replied. "Canst row well?"

"Yes," Harry said; "I have practiced at Abingdon with an oar."

"Then take the sculls," Jacob said, "and I will steer. It is a risky
matter going through the bridge, I tell you, at half tide. Sit steady,
whatever you do. Here they come in pursuit, Roger. Bend to the sculls,"
and in a couple of minutes they reached the bridge.

"Steady, steady," shouted Jacob, as the boat shot a fall, some eight
feet in depth, with the rapidity of an arrow. For a moment it was tossed
and whirled about in the seething waves below, and then, thanks to
Jacob's presence of mind and Harry's obedience to his orders, it emerged
safely into the smooth water below the bridge. Harry now gave up one of
the sculls to Jacob, and the two boys rowed hard down the stream.

"Will they follow, think you?" Harry said.

"I don't think," Jacob laughed, "that any of those black-coated gentry
will care for shooting the bridge. They will run down below, and take
boat there; and as there are sure to be hands waiting to carry fares out
to the ships in the pool, they will gain fast upon us when once they are
under way."

The wind was blowing briskly with them, and the tide running strong, and
at a great pace they passed the ships lying at anchor.

"There is the Tower," Jacob said; "with whose inside we may chance to
make acquaintance, if we are caught. Look," he said, "there is a boat
behind us, rowed by four oars! I fear that it is our pursuers."

"Had we not better land, and take our chance?" Harry said.

"We might have done so at first," Jacob said; "it is too late now. We
must row for it. Look," he continued, "there is a bark coming along
after the boat. She has got her sails up already, and the wind is
bringing her along grandly. She sails faster than they row, and if she
comes up to us before they overtake us, it may be that the captain will
take us in tow. These sea-dogs are always kindly."

The boat that the boys had seized was, fortunately, a very light and
fast one, while that in pursuit was large and heavy, and the four
watermen had to carry six sitters. Consequently, they gained but very
slowly upon the fugitives. Presently a shot from a pistol whizzed over
the boys' heads.

"I did not bargain for this, friend Roger," Jacob said. "My head is made
rather for plots and conspiracies than for withstanding the contact of
lead."

"Row away!" Harry said. "Here is the ship just alongside now."

As the vessel, which was a coaster, came along, the crew looked over the
side, their attention, being called by the sound of the pistol and the
shouts of those in chase.

"Throw us a rope, sir," Jacob shouted. "We are not malefactors, but have
been up to a boyish freak, and shall be heavily punished if we are
caught."

Again the pistol rang out behind, and one of the Sailors threw a rope to
the boys. It was caught, and in a minute the boat was gliding rapidly
along in the wake of the ship. She was then pulled up alongside, the
boys clambered on board, and the boat was sent adrift, The pursuers
continued the chase for a few minutes longer, but seeing the ship
gradually drawing away from them, they desisted, and turned in toward
shore.

"And who are you?" the captain of the brig said.

"We are apprentices, as you see," Jacob said. "We were listening to some
preaching at Paul's Cross. In trying to get out from the throng--being
at length weary of the long-winded talk of the preacher--we trod upon
the feet of a worthy divine. He, refusing to receive our apologies, took
the matter roughly, and seeing that the crowd of Puritans around were
going to treat us as malignant roisterers, we took the liberty of
driving the hat of our assailant over his eyes, and bolting. Assuredly,
had we been caught, we should have been put in the stocks and whipped,
even if worse pains and penalties had not befallen us, for ill-treatment
of one of those who are now the masters of London."

"It was a foolish freak," the captain said, "and in these days such
freaks are treated as crimes. It is well that I came along. What do you
purpose to do now?"

"We would fain be put ashore, sir, somewhere in Kent, so that we may
make our way back again. Our figures could not have been observed beyond
that we were apprentices, and we can enter the city quietly, without
fear of detection."

The wind dropped in the evening, and, the tide turning, the captain
brought to anchor. In the morning he sailed forward again. When he
neared Gravesend he saw a vessel lying in the stream.

"That is a Parliament ship," he said.

At that moment another vessel of about the same size as that in which
they were was passing her. She fired a gun, and the ship at once dropped
her sails and brought up.

"What can she be doing now, arresting the passage of ships on their way
down? If your crime had been a serious one, I should have thought that a
message must have been brought down in the night for her to search
vessels coming down stream for the persons of fugitives. What say you,
lads? Have you told me the truth?"

"We have told you the truth, sir," Harry said; "but not the whole truth.
The circumstances are exactly as my friend related them. But he omitted
to say that the preacher recognized in me one of a Cavalier family, and
that they may suspect that I was in London on business of the king's."

"Is that so?" the captain said. "In that case, your position is a
perilous one. It is clear that they do not know the name of the ship in
which you are embarked, or they would not have stopped the one which we
see far ahead. If they search the ship, they are sure to find you."

"Can you swim, Jacob?" Harry asked the other.

He nodded.

"There is a point," Harry said, "between this and the vessel of war, and
if you sail close to that you will for a minute or two be hidden from
the view of those on her deck. If you will take your ship close to that
corner we will jump overboard and swim on shore. If then your vessel is
stopped you can well say that you have no fugitives on board, and let
them search."

The captain thought the plan a good one, and at once the vessel's head
was steered over toward the side to which Harry had pointed. As they
neared the corner they for a minute lost sight of the hull of the
man-of-war, and the boys, with a word of thanks and farewell to the
captain, plunged over and swam to the bank, which was but some thirty
yards away. Climbing it, they lay down among the grass, and watched the
progress of the vessel. She, like the one before, was brought up by a
gun from the man-of-war, and a boat from the latter put out and remained
by her side for half an hour. Then they saw the boat return, the vessel
hoist her sails again, and go on her way.

"This is a nice position into which you have brought me, Master Roger,"
Jacob said. "My first step in taking part in plots and conspiracies does
not appear to me to lead to the end which I looked for. However, I am
sick of the shop, and shall be glad of a turn of freedom. Now let us
make our way across the marshes to the high land. It is but twenty miles
to walk to London, if that be really your intent."

"I shall not return to London myself," Harry said; "but shall make my
way back to Oxford. It would be dangerous now for me to appear, and I
doubt not that a sharp hue and cry will be kept up. In your case it is
different, for as you have been long an apprentice, and as your face
will be entirely unknown to any of them, there will be little chance of
your being detected."

"I would much rather go with you to Oxford," the lad said. "I am weary
of velvets and silks, and though I do not know that wars and battles
will be more to my taste, I would fain try them also. You are a
gentleman, and high in the trust of the king and those around him. If
you will take me with you as your servant I will be a faithful knave to
you, and doubt not that as you profit by your advantages, some of the
good will fall to my share also."

"In faith," Harry said, "I should hardly like you to be my servant,
Jacob, although I have no other office to bestow at present. But if you
come with me you shall be rather in the light of a major-domo, though I
have no establishment of which you can be the head. In these days,
however, the distinctions of master and servant are less broad than
before, and in the field we shall be companions rather than master and
follower. So, if you like to cast in your fortunes with mine, here is my
hand on it. You have already proved your friendship to me as well as
your quickness and courage, and believe me, you will not find me or my
father ungrateful. But for you, I should now be in the cells, and your
old master in no slight danger of finding himself in prison, to say
nothing of the upset of the negotiations for which I came to London.
Therefore, you have deserved well, not only of me, but of the king, and
the adventure may not turn out so badly as it has begun. We had best
strike south, and go round by Tunbridge, and thence keeping west, into
Berkshire, and so to Oxford. In this way we shall miss the Parliament
men lying round London, and those facing the Royalists between Reading
and Oxford."

This order was carried out. The lads met with but few questioners, and
replying always that they were London apprentices upon their way home to
visit their friends for a short time, passed unsuspected. At first the
want of funds had troubled them, for Harry had forgotten the money sewn
up in his shoe. But presently, remembering this, and taking two gold
pieces out of their hiding-place, they went merrily along the road and
in five days from starting arrived at Oxford.




CHAPTER VII.

IN A HOT PLACE.


Making inquiries, Harry found that his father was living at a house in
the college of Brazenose, and thither he made his way. Not a little
surprised was the trooper, who was on guard before the door, to
recognize his master's son in one of the two lads who, in the clothes of
apprentices shrunk with water and stained with mud and travel, presented
themselves before him. Harry ascended at once to Sir Henry's room, and
the latter was delighted to see him again, for he had often feared that
be had acted rashly in sending him to London. Harry briefly told his
adventures, and introduced his friend Jacob to his father.

Sir Henry immediately sent for a clothier, and Harry was again made
presentable; while a suit of serviceable clothes adapted to the position
of a young gentleman of moderate means was obtained for Jacob. Then,
accompanied by his son, Sir Henry went to the king's chambers, and
informed his majesty of all that had happened. As, from the reports
which had reached the king of the temper of the people of London, he had
but small hope that anything would come of the attempt that was being
made, he felt but little disappointed at hearing of the sudden return of
his emissary. Harry was again asked in, and his majesty in a few words
expressed to him his satisfaction at the zeal and prudence which he had
shown, and at his safe return to court.

On leaving the king Harry awaited anxiously what his father would
determine concerning his future, and was delighted when Sir Henry said,
"It is now a year once these troubles began, Harry, and you have so far
embarked upon them, that I fear you would find it difficult to return to
your studies. You have proved yourself possessed of qualities which will
enable you to make your way in the world, and I therefore think the time
has come when you can take your place in the ranks. I shall ask of the
king a commission for you as captain in my regiment, and as one of my
officers has been killed you will take his place, and will have the
command of a troop."

Harry was delighted at this intimation; and the following day received
the king's commission.

A few days afterward he had again to ride over to Furness Hall, which
was now shut up, to collect some rents, and as he returned through
Abingdon he saw Lucy Rippinghall walking in the streets. Rather proud of
his attire as a young cavalier in full arms, Harry dismounted and
courteously saluted her.

"I should hardly have known you, Master Furness," she said. "You look so
fierce in your iron harness, and so gay with your plumes and ribands. My
brother would be glad to see you. My father as you know, is away. Will
you not come in for a few minutes?"

Harry, after a few moments' hesitation, assented. He longed to see his
old friend, and as the latter was still residing at Abingdon, while he
himself had already made his mark in the royal cause, he did not fear
that any misconstruction could be placed upon his visit to the Puritan's
abode. Herbert received him with a glad smile of welcome.

"Ah, Harry," he said, "so you have fairly taken to man's estate. Of
course, I think you have done wrong; but we need not argue on that now.
I am glad indeed to see you. Lucy," he said, "let supper be served at
once."

It was a pleasant meal, and the old friends chatted of their schooldays
and boyish pastimes, no allusion being made to the events of the day,
save that Herbert said, "I suppose that you know that my father is now a
captain in the force of the Commons, and that I am doing my best to keep
his business going during his absence."

"I had heard as much," Harry answered. "It is a heavy weight to be
placed on your shoulders, Herbert."

"Yes," he said, "I am growing learned in wools, and happily the business
is not falling off in my hands."

It was characteristic of the civil war in England that during the whole
time of its existence the affairs of the country went on as usual.
Business was conducted, life and property were safe, and the laws were
enforced just as before. The judges went their circuits undisturbed by
the turmoil of the times, acting under the authority alike of the Great
Seals of the King and Parliament. Thus evildoers were repressed, crime
put down, and the laws of the land administered just as usual, and as if
no hostile armies were marching and fighting on the fair fields of
England. In most countries during such troubled times, all laws have
been at an end, bands of robbers and disbanded soldiers have pillaged
and ruined the country, person and property alike have been unsafe,
private broils and enmities have broken forth, and each man has carried
his life in his hand. Thus, even in Abingdon, standing as it did halfway
between the stronghold of the crown at Oxford, and the Parliament army
at Reading, things remained quiet and tranquil. Its fairs and markets
were held as usual, and the course of business went on unchecked.

On his return to Oxford Harry learned that the king, with a portion of
the army, was to set out at once for Gloucester, to compel that city,
which had declared for the Commons, to open its gates. With a force of
thirteen thousand men the king moved upon Gloucester. When he arrived
outside its walls, on the 10th of August, he sent a summons to the town
to surrender, offering pardon to the inhabitants, and demanding an
answer within two hours. Clarendon has described how the answer was
returned. "Within less than the time described, together with a
trumpeter, returned two citizens from the town with lean, pale, sharp,
and bad visages, indeed, faces so strange and unusual, and in such a
garb and posture, that at once made the most severe countenances merry,
and the most cheerful heart sad, for it was impossible such ambassadors
could bring less than a defiance. The men, without any circumstance of
duty or good manners, in a pert, shrill, undismayed accent, said that
they brought an answer from the godly city of Gloucester to the king,
and were so ready to give insolent and seditious answers to any
questions, as if their business were chiefly to provoke the king to
violate his own safe-conduct." The answers which these strange
messengers brought was that the inhabitants and soldiers kept the city
for the use of his majesty, but conceived themselves "only bound to obey
the commands of his majesty signified by both houses of Parliament."
Setting fire to the houses outside their walls, the men of Gloucester
prepared for a resolute resistance. The walls were strong and well
defended, and the king did not possess artillery sufficient to make
breaches therein, and dreading the great loss which an assault upon the
walls would inflict upon his army, he determined to starve the city into
submission. The inhabitants, although reduced to sore straits, yet
relying upon assistance coming to them, held out, and their hopes were
not disappointed, as Essex, at the head of a great army, was sent from
London to relieve the place. Upon his approach, the king and his
councilors, deciding that a battle could not be fought with advantage,
drew off from the town, and gave up the siege.

Both armies now moved in the direction of London; but Prince Rupert,
hearing that a small body of Parliament horse were besieging the house
of Sir James Strangford, an adherent of the crown, took with him fifty
horse, and rode away to raise the siege, being ever fond of dashing
exploits in the fashion of the knights of old. The body which he chose
to accompany him was the troop commanded by Harry Furness, whose gayety
of manner and lightness of heart had rendered him a favorite with the
prince. The besieged house was situated near Hereford; and at the end of
a long day's march Prince Rupert, coming in sight of the Roundheads,
charged them with such fury that they were overthrown with scarce any
resistance, and fled in all directions. Having effected his object, the
prince now rode to Worcester, where he slept, and thence by a long day's
march to a village where he again halted for the night.

An hour after his arrival, a messenger came in from Lady Sidmouth, the
wife of Sir Henry Sidmouth, asking him to ride over and take up his
abode for the night at her house. Bidding Harry accompany him, the
prince rode off, leaving the troop under the charge of Harry's
lieutenant, Jacob, who had proved himself an active soldier, and had
been appointed to that rank at Gloucester. The house was a massive
structure of the reign of Henry VIII.; but being built at a time when
the castellated abodes were going out of fashion, was not capable of
standing a siege, and had not indeed been put in any posture of defense.
Sir Henry was with the king, and only a few retainers remained in the
house. Prince Rupert was received at the entrance by Lady Sidmouth, who
had at her side her daughter, a girl of fourteen, whom Harry thought the
most beautiful creature he had ever seen. The prince alighted, and
doffing his broad plumed hat, kissed the lady's hand, and conducted her
into the house again, Harry doing the same to her daughter.

"You must pardon a rough reception," the lady said to the prince. "Had I
had notice of your coming, I would have endeavored to receive you in a
manner more befitting; but hearing from one of my retainers, who
happened to be in the village when you arrived, of your coming, I
thought that the accommodation--poor as it is--would be better than that
which you could obtain there."

Prince Rupert replied gayly, and in a few minutes they were seated at
supper. The conversation was lightly kept up, when suddenly a tremendous
crash was heard, shouts of alarm were raised, and a retainer rushed into
the hall, saying that the place was attacked by a force of Roundheads.

"Defense is hopeless," the lady said, as Prince Rupert and Harry drew
their swords. "There are but five or six old men here, and the door
appears to be already yielding. There is a secret chamber here where you
can defy their search."

Prince Rupert, dreading above all things to be taken prisoner, and
seeing that resistance would be, as their hostess said, vain, followed
her into an adjoining room hung with arras. Lifting this, she showed a
large stone. Beneath it, on the floor was a tile, in no way differing
from the others. She pressed it, and the stone, which was but slight,
turned on a hinge, and disclosed an iron door. This she opened with a
spring, showing a small room within, with a ladder leading to another
above.

"Mount that," she said. "You will find in the chamber above a large
stone. Pull the ladder up with you and lower the stone, which exactly
fits into the opening. Even should they discover this chamber, they will
not suspect that another lies above it."

Prince Rupert, taking a light from her hands, hastily mounted, followed
by Harry, and pulled the steps after him, just as they heard the iron
door close. It needed the united strength of the prince and Harry to
lift the stone, which was a large one, with an iron ring in the center,
and to place it in the cavity. Having done this, they looked round. The
room was about eight feet long by six wide, and lighted by a long narrow
loophole extending from the ground to the roof. They deemed from its
appearance that it was built in one of the turrets of the building.

"That was a narrow escape, Master Harry," the prince said. "It would
have been right bad news for my royal uncle if I had been caught here
like a rat in a trap. I wonder we heard nothing of a Roundhead force in
this neighborhood. I suppose that they must have been stationed at some
place further north, and that the news of our passing reached them. I
trust that they have no suspicion that we are in the house; but I fear,
from this sudden attack upon an undefended building, that some spy from
the village must have taken word to them."

Lady Sidmouth had just time to return to the hall when the doors gave
way, and a body of Roundheads burst into the room. They had drawn swords
in their hands, and evidently expected an attack. They looked round with
surprise at seeing only Lady Sidmouth and her daughter.

"Where is the malignant Rupert?" the leader exclaimed. "We have sure
news that he rode, attended by an officer only, hither, and that he was
seen to enter your house."

"If you want Prince Rupert, you must find him," the lady said calmly.
"I say not that he has not been here; but I tell you that he is now
beyond your reach."

"He has not escaped," the officer said, "for the house is surrounded.
Now, madam, I insist upon your telling me where you have hidden him."

"I have already told you, sir, that he is beyond your reach, and nothing
that you can do will wring any further explanation from me."

The officer hesitated. For a moment he advanced a step toward her, with
a menacing gesture. But, heated as the passions of men were, no violence
was done to women, and with a fierce exclamation he ordered his troopers
to search the house. For a quarter of an hour they ransacked it high and
low, overturned every article of furniture, pulling down the arras, and
tapping the walls with the hilts of their swords.

"Take these two ladies away," he said to his lieutenant, "and ride with
them at once to Storton. They will have to answer for having harbored
the prince."

The ladies were immediately taken off, placed on pillions behind two
troopers, and carried away to Storton. In the meantime the search went
on, and presently the hollow sound given by the slab in the wall was
noticed. The spring could not be discovered, but crowbars and hammers
being brought, the slab of stone was presently shivered. The discovery
of the iron door behind it further heightened their suspicion that the
place of concealment was found. The door, after a prolonged resistance,
was battered in. But the Roundheads were filled with fury, on entering,
to discover only a small, bare cell, with no signs of occupation
whatever. The search was now prolonged in other directions; but,
becoming convinced that it was useless, and that the place of
concealment was too cunningly devised to admit of discovery, the
captain ordered the furniture to be piled together, and setting light to
it and the arras in several places, withdrew his men from the house,
saying that if a rat would not come out of his hole, he must be smoked
in it.

The prince and Harry from their place of concealment had heard the sound
of blows against the doors below.

"They have found the way we have gone," the prince said, "but I think
not that their scent is keen enough to trace us up here. If they do so,
we will sell our lives dearly, for I will not be taken prisoner, and
sooner or later our troop will hear of the Roundheads' attack, and will
come to our rescue."

They heard the fall of the iron door, and the exclamations and cries
with which the Roundheads broke into the room below. Then faintly they
heard the sound of voices, and muffled knocks, as they tried the walls.
Then all was silent again.

"The hounds are thrown off the scent," the prince said. "It will need a
clever huntsman to put them on it. What will they do next, I wonder?"

Some time passed, and then Harry exclaimed:

"I perceive a smell of something burning, your royal highness."

"Peste! methinks I do also," the prince said. "I had not thought of
that. If these rascals have set fire to the place we shall be roasted
alive here."

A slight wreath of smoke was seen curling up through the crevice of the
tightly-fitting stone.

"We will leap out, and die sword in hand," the prince said; and seizing
the ring, he and Harry pulled at it. Ere they raised the stone an inch,
a volume of dense smoke poured up, and they at once dropped it into its
place again, feeling that their retreat was cut off. The prince put his
sword in its scabbard.

"We must die, my lad," he said. "A strange death, too, to be roasted in
a trap. But after all, whether by that or the thrust of a Roundhead
sword makes little difference in the end. I would fain have fallen in
the field, though."

"Perhaps," Harry suggested, "the fire may not reach us here. The walls
are very thick, and the chamber below is empty."

The prince shook his head.

"The heat of the fire in a house like this will crack stone walls," he
said.

He then took off his cloak and threw it over the stone, dressing it down
tightly to prevent the smoke from curling in. Through the loophole they
could now hear a roar, and crackling sounds, and a sudden glow lit up
the country.

"The flames are bursting through the windows," Harry said. "They will
bring our troop down ere long."

"The troop will do us no good," Prince Rupert replied. "All the king's
army could not rescue us. But at least it would be a satisfaction before
we die to see these crop-eared knaves defeated."

Minute after minute passed, and a broad glare of light illumined the
whole country round. Through the slit they could see the Roundheads
keeping guard round the house in readiness to cut off any one who might
seek to make his escape, while at a short distance off they had drawn up
the main body of the force. Presently, coming along the road at a rapid
trot, they saw a body of horse.

"There are our men," the prince exclaimed.

The Roundheads had seen them too. A trumpet was sounded, and the men on
guard round the house leaped to their horses, and joined the main body,
just as the Cavaliers charged upon them. The Roundheads fought stoutly;
but the charge of the Cavaliers was irresistible. Furious at the sight
of the house in flames, and ignorant of the fate which had befallen
their prince and their master's son, they burst upon the Roundheads with
a force which the latter were unable to withstand. For four or five
minutes the fight continued, and then such of the Roundheads as were
able clapped spurs to their horses and galloped off, hotly pursued by
the Cavaliers. The pursuit was a short one. Several of the Cavaliers
were gathered at the spot where the conflict had taken place, and were,
apparently, questioning a wounded man. Then the trumpeter who was with
them sounded the recall, and in a few minutes the Royalist troops came
riding back. They could see Jacob pointing to the burning building and
gesticulating with his arms. Then a party dashed up to the house, and
were lost to sight.

The prince and Harry both shouted at the top of their voices, but the
roar of the flames and the crash of falling beams deadened the sound.
The heat had by this time become intense. They had gradually divested
themselves of their clothing, and were bathed in perspiration.

"This heat is terrific," Prince Rupert said. "I did not think the human
frame could stand so great a heat. Methinks that water would boil were
it placed here."

This was indeed the case--the human frame, as is now well known, being
capable of sustaining a heat considerably above that of boiling water.
The walls were now so hot that the hand could not be borne upon them for
an instant.

"My feet are burning!" the prince exclaimed, "Reach down that ladder
from the wall."

They laid the ladder on the ground and stood upon it, thus avoiding any
contact with the hot stone.

"If this goes on," Prince Rupert said, with a laugh; "there will be
nothing but our swords left. We are melting away fast, like candles
before a fire. Truly I do not think that there was so much water in a
man as has floated down from me during the last half-hour."

Harry was so placed that he could command a sight through the loophole,
and he exclaimed, "They are riding away!"

This was indeed the case. The whole building was now one vast furnace,
and having from the first no hope that their friends, if there, could
have survived, they had, hearing that Lady Sidmouth and her daughter had
been taken to Storton, determined to ride thither to take them from the
hands of the Roundheads, and to learn from them the fate of their
leaders.

Another two hours passed. The heat was still tremendous, but they could
not feel that it was increasing. Once or twice they heard terrific
crashes, as portions of the wall fell. They would long since have been
roasted, were it not for the cool air which flowed in through the long
loophole, and keeping up a circulation in the chamber, lowered the
temperature of the air within it. At the end of the two hours Harry gave
a shout.

"They are coming back."

The light had now sunk to a quiet red glow, so that beyond the fact that
a party was approaching, nothing could be seen. They rode, however,
directly toward the turret, and then, when they halted, Harry saw the
figures of two ladies who were pointing toward the loophole. Harry now
stepped from the ladder on to the door and shouted at the top of his
voice through the loophole. The reply came back in a joyous shout.

"We are being roasted alive," Harry cried. "Get ladders as quickly as
possible, with crowbars, and break down the wall."

Men were seen to ride off in several directions instantly, and for the
first time a ray of hope illumined, the minds of the prince and Harry
that they might be saved. Half an hour later long ladders tied together
were placed against the wall, and Jacob speedily made his appearance at
the loophole.

"All access is impossible from the other side," he said, "for the place
where the house stood is a red-hot furnace, Most of the walls have
fallen. We had no hope of finding you alive."

"We are roasting slowly," Harry cried. "In Heaven's name bring us some
water."

Soon a bottle of water was passed in through the loophole, and then
three or four ladders being placed in position, the men outside began
with crowbars and pickaxes to enlarge the loophole sufficiently for the
prisoners to escape. It took three hours' hard work, at the end of which
time the aperture was sufficiently wide to allow them to emerge, and
utterly exhausted and feeling, as the prince said, "baked to a turn,"
they made their way down the ladder, being helped on either side by the
men, for they themselves were too exhausted to maintain their feet.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE DEFENSE OF AN OUTPOST.


The effect of the fresh air and of cordials poured down their throats
soon restored the vigor to Prince Rupert and Harry Furness. They were
still weak, for the great effort which nature had made to resist the
force of the heat during those long hours had taxed their constitutions
to the utmost.

Lady Sidmouth was rejoiced indeed to find them alive, for she had made
sure that they were lost. It was not until she had been placed in a room
strongly barred, and under a guard at Storton, that she perceived the
light arising from her residence, and guessed that the men of the
Commons, unable to find the hiding-place of Prince Rupert, had set it on
fire. Then she had knocked loudly at the door; but the sentry had given
no answer either to that or to her entreaties for a hearing. She soon,
indeed, desisted from her efforts, for the fire which blazed up speedily
convinced her that all hope was gone. When Jacob and the Royalists
arrived, driving out the small remnant of the Roundheads who remained in
the village, he had found Lady Sidmouth and her daughter bathed in
tears, under the belief that their guests had perished in the old house
that they loved so well. It was with no hope that they had mounted on
the instant, and ridden at full gallop to the castle, and it was not
until they saw that that wall was still standing that even the slightest
hope entered their minds. Even then it appeared incredible that any one
could be alive, and the shout from the loophole had surprised almost as
much as it had delighted them.

In the course of three or four hours, refreshed and strengthened by a
hearty breakfast and draughts of burgundy, the prince and Harry mounted
their horses. Lady Sidmouth determined to remain for a few days at one
of her tenant's houses, and then to go quietly on to Oxford--for by this
time the main army of Essex was rapidly moving east, and the country
would soon be secure for her passage. The prince and Harry rode at full
speed to rejoin the army. That night, by riding late, they reached it.
They found that Essex had, in his retreat, surprised Cirencester and had
passed Farringdon.

The prince, with five thousand horse, started, and marching with great
rapidity, got between Reading and the enemy, and, near Newbury, fell
upon the Parliament horse. For several hours sharp skirmishing went on,
and Essex was forced to halt his army at Hungerford. This gave time for
the king, who was marching at the head of his infantry, to come up. The
royal army occupied Newbury, and by the position they had taken up, were
now between the Roundheads and London.

On the morning of the 20th of September the outpost of each force became
engaged, and the battle soon raged along the whole line. It was to some
extent a repetition of the battle of Edgehill. Prince Rupert, with his
Cavaliers, swept away the horse of the enemy; but the pikemen of London,
who now first were tried in combat, forced back the infantry of the
king. Prince Rupert, returning from the pursuit, charged them with all
his cavalry; but so sharply did they shoot, and so steadily did the line
of pikes hold together, that the horse could make no impression upon
them.

The night fell upon an undecided battle, and the next morning the
Roundheads, as at Edgehill, drew off from the field, leaving to the
Royalists the honor of a nominal success, a success, however, which was
in both cases tantamount to a repulse.

Three leading men upon the king's side fell--Lords Falkland, Carnarvon,
and Sunderland. The former, one of the finest characters of the times,
may be said to have thrown away his life. He was utterly weary of the
terrible dissensions and war in which England was plunged. He saw the
bitterness increasing on both sides daily--the hopes of peace growing
less and less; and as he had left the Parliamentary party, because he
saw that their ambition was boundless, and that they purposed to set up
a despotic tyranny, so he must have bitterly grieved at seeing upon the
side of the king a duplicity beyond all bounds, and want of faith which
seemed to forbid all hope of a satisfactory issue. Thus, then, when the
day of Newbury came, Falkland, whose duties in nowise led him into the
fight, charged recklessly and found the death which there can be little
doubt he sought.

Although the Cavaliers claimed Newbury as a great victory, instead of
advancing upon London they fell back as usual to Oxford.

During the skirmishes Harry had an opportunity of doing a service to an
old friend. The Parliament horse, although valiant and better trained
than that of the Royalists, were yet unable to withstand the impetuosity
with which the latter always attacked, the men seeming, indeed, to be
seized with a veritable panic at the sight of the gay plumes of Rupert's
gentlemen. In a fierce skirmish between Harry's troop and a party of
Parliament horse of about equal strength, the latter were defeated, and
Harry, returning with the main body, found a Puritan officer dismounted,
with his back against a tree, defending himself from the attacks of
three of his men. Harry rode hastily up and demanded his surrender. The
officer looked up, and to his surprise Harry saw his friend Herbert.

"I am your prisoner, Harry," Herbert said, as he lowered the point of
his sword.

"Not at all!" Harry exclaimed. "It would indeed be a strange thing,
Herbert, were I to make you a prisoner. I thought you settled at
Abingdon?"

Ordering one of his troopers to catch a riderless horse which was
galloping near, he spoke for a moment or two with his friend, and then,
as the horse was brought up, he told him to mount and ride.

"But you may get into trouble for releasing me," Herbert said.

"I care not if I do," Harry replied. "But you need not be uneasy about
me, for Prince Rupert will stand my friend, and hold me clear of any
complaint that may be made. I will ride forward with you a little, till
you can join your friends."

As Harry rode on by the side of Herbert a Royalist officer, one Sir
Ralph Willoughby, dashed up.

"What means this?" he exclaimed. "Do I see an officer of his majesty
riding with one of the Roundheads? This is treason and treachery!"

"I will answer to the king, if need be," Harry said, "for my conduct. I
am not under your orders, Sir Ralph, and shall use my discretion in this
matter. This gentleman is as a brother to me."

"And I would cut down my brother," Sir Ralph said furiously, "if I found
him in the ranks of the enemy!"

"Then, sir, we differ," Harry replied, "for that would not I. There are
your friends," he said to Herbert, pointing to a body of Roundheads at a
short distance, "Give me your word, however, that you will not draw
sword again to-day."

Herbert readily gave the required promise, and riding off, was soon
with his friends. Sir Ralph and Harry came to high words after he had
left; and the matter might then and there have been decided by the
sword, had not a party of Roundheads, seeing two cavalry officers so
near to them, charged down, and compelled them to ride for their lives.

The following day Sir Ralph reported the circumstance to the general,
and he to Prince Rupert. The prince laughed at the charge.

"Harry Furness," he said, "is as loyal a gentleman as draws sword in our
ranks, and as he and I have been well-nigh roasted together, it were
vain indeed that any complaint were made to me touching his honor. I
will speak to him, however, and doubt not that his explanation will be
satisfactory."

The prince accordingly spoke to Harry, who explained the circumstances
of his relations with the young Roundhead.

"Had he been a great captain, sir," Harry said, "I might have deemed it
my duty to hold him in durance, however near his relationship to myself.
But as a few weeks since he was but a schoolboy, methought that the
addition of his sword to the Roundhead cause would make no great
difference in our chances of victory that afternoon. Moreover, I had
received his pledge that he would not draw sword again in the battle."

As even yet, although the bitterness was quickly increasing, it was far
from having reached that point which it subsequently attained, and
prisoners on both sides were treated with respect, no more was said
regarding Harry's conduct in allowing his friend to escape. But from
that moment, between himself and Sir Ralph Willoughby there grew up a
strong feeling of animosity, which only needed some fitting pretext to
break out.

It was, indeed, an unfortunate point in the royal cause, that there was
very far from being unity among those who fought side by side. There
were intrigues and jealousies. There were the king's men, who would have
supported his majesty in all lengths to which he might have gone, and
who were ever advising him to resist all attempts at pacification, and
to be content with nothing less than a complete defeat of his enemies.
Upon the other hand, there were the grave, serious men, who had drawn
the sword with intense reluctance, and who desired nothing so much as
peace--a peace which would secure alike the rights of the crown and the
rights of the people.

They were shocked, too, by the riotous and profligate ways of some of
the wilder spirits, and deemed that their cause was sullied by the
reckless conduct and wild ways of many of their party. Sir Henry Furness
belonged to this section of the king's adherents, and Harry, who had
naturally imbibed his father's opinions, held himself a good deal aloof
from the wild young spirits of the king's party.

Skirmishes took place daily between the cavalry outposts of the two
armies. Sir Henry was asked by the prince to send some of his troops
across the river to watch the enemy, and he chose that commanded by
Harry, rather for the sake of getting the lad away from the temptations
and dissipation of Oxford than to give him an opportunity of
distinguishing himself. The troop commanded by Sir Ralph Willoughby was
also on outpost duty, and lay at no great distance from the village in
which Harry quartered his men after crossing the river. The Roundhead
cavalry were known to be but three or four miles away, and the utmost
vigilance was necessary.

Harry gave orders that the troops should be distributed through the
village--five men to a house. Straw was to be brought in at night, and
laid on the floor of the kitchens, and the men were there to sleep, with
their arms by their sides, ready for instant service. One of each party
was to stand sentry over the five horses which were to be picketed to
the palings in front of the house. At the first alarm he was at once to
awake his comrades, who were to mount instantly, and form in column in
the street. Two pickets were placed three hundred yards from the
village, and two others a quarter of a mile further in advance. Harry
and Jacob took up their residence in the village inn, and arranged
alternately to visit the pickets and sentries every two hours.

"They shall not catch us napping, Jacob. This is my first command on
detached duty. You and I have often remarked upon the reckless ways of
our leaders. We have an opportunity now of carrying our own ideas into
effect."

At three o'clock Jacob visited the outposts. All was still, and nothing
had occurred to give rise to any suspicion of the vicinity of an enemy.
Half an hour later one of the advanced pickets galloped in. They heard,
he said, a noise as of a large body of horse, away to the right, and it
seemed as if it was proceeding toward Chalcombe, the village where Sir
Ralph Willoughby's troop was quartered. Two minutes later, thanks to
Harry's arrangements, the troop were mounted and in readiness for
action.

The first faint dawn of day had begun. Suddenly the stillness was broken
by the sound of pistol shots and shouts from the direction of Chalcombe,
which lay a mile away.

"It is likely," Harry said, "that Sir Ralph has been caught napping. He
is brave, but he is reckless, and the discipline of his troop is of the
slackest. Let us ride to his rescue."

The troop filed out from the village, and turned down the side road
leading to Chalcombe. Harry set spurs to his horse and led the column at
a gallop. The sound of shots continued without intermission, and
presently a bright light shot up.

"Methinks," Harry said to Jacob, "the Roundheads have caught our men
asleep, and it is an attack upon the houses rather than a cavalry
fight."

It was scarcely five minutes from the time they started when they
approached the village. By the light of a house which had been set on
fire, Harry saw that his conjecture was well founded. The Roundheads
were dismounted, and were attacking the houses.

Halting just outside the village, Harry formed his men with a front
across the whole road, and directed the lines to advance, twenty yards
apart. Then, placing himself at their head, he gave the word, and
charged down the street upon the Roundheads. The latter, occupied by
their attack upon the houses, were unconscious of the presence of their
foe until he was close upon them, and were taken utterly by surprise.
The force of the charge was irresistible, and the Roundheads, dispersed
and on foot, were cut down in all directions. Groups of twos and threes
stood together and attempted resistance, but the main body thought only
of regaining their horses. In three minutes after the Royalists entered
the village the surviving Roundheads were in full flight, hotly pursued
by the victorious Cavaliers. These, being for the most part better
mounted, overtook and slew many of the Roundheads, and not more than
half the force which had set out returned to their quarters at Didcot.
The pursuit continued to within half a mile of that place, and then
Harry, knowing that there was a force of Roundhead infantry there, drew
off from the pursuit, and returned to Chalcombe. He found that more
than half of Sir Ralph Willoughy's men had been killed, many having been
cut down before they could betake themselves to their arms, those
quartered in the inn, and at two or three of the larger houses, having
alone maintained a successful resistance until the arrival of succor.

Sir Ralph Willoughby was furious. The disaster was due to his own
carelessness in having contented himself with placing two pickets in
advance of the village, and permitting the whole remainder of his force
to retire to bed. Consequently the picket, on riding in upon the
approach of the enemy, were unable to awake and call them to arms before
the Roundheads were upon them. In his anger he turned upon Harry, and
fiercely demanded why he had not sent him news of the approach of the
enemy.

"You must have known it," he said. "Your men were all mounted and in
readiness, or they could not have arrived here so soon. You must have
been close at hand, and only holding off in order that you might boast
of having come to my relief."

Harry, indignant at these words, turned on heel without deigning to give
an answer to the angry man, and at once rode back to his own quarters.
Two hours later Prince Rupert rode up. The firing had been reported, and
Prince Rupert had ridden with a body of horse to Chalcombe. Here he had
heard Sir Ralph Willoughby's version of the story, and had requested
that officer to ride with him to Harry's quarters. The prince, with
several of his principal officers, alighted at the inn, outside which
Harry received him. Prince Rupert led the way into the house.

"Master Furness," he said, "Sir Ralph Willoughby accuses you of having
played him false, and left his party to be destroyed on account of the
quarrel existing between you, touching that affair at Newbury. What
have you to say to this? He alleges that you must have been close at
hand, and moved not a finger to save him until half his troop was
destroyed."

"It is wholly false, sir," Harry said. "Seeing that the enemy were so
close, I had placed my pickets well in advance, and ordered my men to
lie down in their clothes, with their arms beside them, on straw in the
kitchens, ready to mount at a moment's warning. I quartered five in each
house, having their horses fastened in front, and one of each party
stationed at the door, where he could observe the horses and wake the
men on the instant. Thus, when my pickets came in with the news that
troops were heard moving toward Chalcombe, my troop was in less than two
minutes in the saddle. As we rode out of the village we heard the first
shot, and five minutes later charged the Roundheads in the streets of
the village. Had we not hastened, methinks that neither Sir Ralph
Willoughby nor any of his troops would have been alive now to tell the
tale. You can question, sir, my lieutenant, or any of my troopers, and
you will hear that matters went precisely as I have told you."

"You have done well indeed, Master Furness," Prince Rupert said warmly,
"and I would that many of my other officers showed the same
circumspection and care as you have done. Now, Sir Ralph, let me hear
what arrangements you made against surprise."

"I set pickets in front of the village," Sir Ralph said sulkily.

"And what besides?" the prince asked. "Having done that, did you and
your officers and men go quietly to sleep, as if the enemy were a
hundred miles away?"

Sir Ralph was silent.

"Fie, for shame, sir!" the prince said sternly. "Your own carelessness
has brought disaster upon you, and instead of frankly owning your fault,
and thanking Master Furness for having redeemed your error, saved the
remnant of your troop, and defeated the Roundheads heavily, your
jealousy and envy of the lad have wrought you to bring false accusations
against him. Enough, sir," he said peremptorily, seeing the glance of
hatred which Sir Ralph cast toward Harry. "Sufficient harm has been done
already by your carelessness--see that no more arises from your bad
temper. I forbid this quarrel to go further; until the king's enemies
are wholly defeated there must be no quarrels between his friends. And
should I hear of any further dispute on your part with Master Furness, I
shall bring it before the king, and obtain his warrant for your
dismissal from this army."

The following day Harry and his troop moved further down the river, the
enemy having fallen back from Didcot. He was placed at a village where
there was a ford across the river. The post was of importance, as its
position prevented the enemy from making raids into the country, where
stores of provisions and cattle had been collected for the use of the
army at Oxford. Harry's force was a small one for the defense of such a
post; but there appeared little danger of an attack, as Prince Rupert,
with a large force of cavalry, lay but a mile or two distant. A few days
after their arrival, however, Prince Rupert started with his horse to
drive back a party of the enemy whom he heard were lying some miles
north of Reading.

"Prince Rupert never seems to have room for two ideas in his head at the
same time," Jacob said. "The moment he hears of an enemy off he rides at
full gallop, forgetting that he has left us alone here. It is well if
the Roundheads at Reading do not sally out and attack us, seeing how
useful this ford would be to them."

"I agree with you, Jacob, and we will forthwith set to work to render
the place as defensible as we may."

"We had best defend the other side of the ford, if they advance," Jacob
said. "We could make a far better stand there."

"That is true, Jacob; but though we could there bar them from entering
our country, they, if they obtained the village, would shut the door to
our entering theirs. No, it is clear that it our duty to defend the
village as long as we can, if we should be attacked."

Harry now set his men to work to make loopholes in the cottages and
inclosure walls, and to connect the latter by banks of earth, having
thorn branches set on the top. Just at the ford itself stood a large
water-mill, worked by a stream which here ran into the river. Harry
placed sacks before all the windows, leaving only loopholes through
which to fire. Some of the troop carried pistols only; others had
carbines; and some, short, wide-mouthed guns, which carried large
charges of buckshot. Pickets were sent forward a mile toward Reading.

Early in the afternoon these galloped in with the news that a heavy
column of infantry and cavalry, with two pieces of artillery, were
approaching along the road. Harry at once dispatched a messenger, with
orders to ride until he found Prince Rupert, to tell him of the state he
was in, and ask him to hurry to his assistance, giving assurance that he
would hold the village as long as possible. All now labored vigorously
at the works of defense. Half an hour after the alarm had been given the
enemy were seen approaching.

"There must be over five hundred men, horse and foot," Jacob said, as
from the upper story of the mill he watched with Harry the approach of
the enemy. "With fifty men we shall never be able to defend the circuit
of the village."

"Not if they attack all round at once," Harry agreed. "But probably
they will fall upon us in column, and behind stone walls we can do much.
We must keep them out as long as we can; then fall back here, and
surround ourselves with a ring of fire."

As soon as it was known that the enemy were approaching Harry had given
orders that all the inhabitants should evacuate their houses and cross
the river, taking with them such valuables as they could carry. There
were several horses and carts in the village, and these were at once put
in requisition, and the people crossing and recrossing the river rapidly
carried most of their linen and other valuables over in safety, the men
continuing to labor for the preservation of their goods, even after the
fight commenced.

The Roundheads halted about four hundred yards from the village. Just as
they did so there was a trampling of horses, and Sir Ralph Willoughby,
with his troop, now reduced to thirty strong, rode into the village. He
drew up his horse before Harry.

"Master Furness," he said, "Prince Rupert has forbidden me to test your
courage in the way gentlemen usually do so. But there is now a means
open. Let us see which will ride furthest--you or I--into the ranks of
yonder horsemen."

Harry hesitated a moment; then he said gravely:

"My life is not my own to throw away, Sir Ralph. My orders are to hold
this place. That I can best do on foot, for even if our troops united
were to rout the enemy's cavalry, their footmen would still remain, and
would carry the village. No, sir, my duty is to fight here."

"I always thought you a coward!" Sir Ralph exclaimed; "now I know it,"
and, with a taunting laugh, he ordered his men to follow him, issued
from the village, and prepared, with his little band, to charge the
Roundhead horse, about a hundred and fifty strong.

Just as they formed line, however, the enemy's' guns opened, and a shot
struck Sir Ralph full in the chest, hurling him, a shattered corpse, to
the ground.

His men, dismayed at the fall of their leader, drew rein.

"Fall back, men," Harry shouted from behind, "fall back, and make a
stand here. You must be cut to pieces if you advance."

The troop, who had no other officer with them, at once obeyed Harry's
orders. They had heard the conversation between him and their leader,
and although prepared to follow Sir Ralph, who was the landlord of most
of them, they saw that Harry was right, and that to attack so numerous a
body of horse and foot was but to invite destruction.




CHAPTER IX.

A STUBBORN DEFENSE.


A half-dozen or so of Sir Ralph Willoughby's troopers declared that now
their lord was dead they would fight no further, and straightway rode
off through the village and across the ford. The rest, however, seeing
that a brave fight against odds was about to commence, declared their
willingness to put themselves under Harry's orders. They were at once
dismounted and scattered along the line of defenses. After the Roundhead
cannon had fired a few shots their cavalry charged, thinking to ride
into the village. But the moment Sir Ralph's troopers had re-entered it
Harry had heaped up across the road a quantity of young trees and bushes
which he had cut in readiness. Not a shot was fired until the horsemen
reached this obstacle, and then so heavy a fire was poured upon them, as
they dismounted and tried to pull it asunder, that, with a loss of many
men, they were forced to retreat.

The infantry now advanced, and a severe fight began. Harry's eighty men,
sheltered behind their walls, inflicted heavy damage upon the enemy,
who, however, pressed on stoutly, one column reaching the obstruction
across the road, and laboring to destroy it. All the horses, with the
exception of twenty, had been sent across the ford, and when Harry saw
that in spite of the efforts of his men the enemy were destroying the
abattis, he mounted twenty men upon these horses, placing Jacob at
their head. Then he drew off as many defenders from other points as he
could, and bade these charge their pistols and blunderbusses to the
mouth with balls. As the enemy effected a breach in the abattis and
streamed in, Jacob with his horse galloped down upon them at full speed.
The reserve poured the fire of their heavily loaded pieces upon the mass
still outside, and then aided Jacob's horse by falling suddenly on those
within. So great was the effect that the enemy were driven back, and the
column retired, the breach in the abattis being hastily filled up,
before the cavalry, who were waiting the opportunity, could charge down
upon it.

In the meantime, however, the enemy were forcing their way in at other
points, and Harry gave word for the outside line of houses to be fired.
The thatched roofs speedily were in flames, and as the wind was blowing
from the river dense clouds of smoke rolled down upon the assailants. It
was now only the intervals between the houses which had to be defended,
and for an hour the stubborn resistance continued, the Royalist troops
defending each house with its inclosure to the last, and firing them as
they retreated, their own loss being trifling in comparison with that
which they inflicted upon their assailants.

At last the whole of the defenders were gathered in and round the mill.
This was defended from attack by the mill stream, which separated it
from the village, and which was crossed only by the road leading down to
the ford. The bridge was a wooden one, and this had been already partly
sawn away. As soon as the last of the defenders crossed the remainder of
the bridge was chopped down. Along the line of the stream Harry had
erected a defense, breast high, of sacks of wheat from the mill. The
enemy, as they straggled out through the burning village, paused, on
seeing the strong position which yet remained to be carried. The mill
stream was rapid and deep, and the approaches swept by the fire from the
mill. There was a pause, and then the cannon were brought up and fire
opened upon the mill, the musketry keeping up an incessant rattle from
every wall and clump of bushes.

The mill was built of wood, and the cannon shot went through and through
it. But Harry directed his men to place rows of sacks along each floor
facing the enemy, and lying down behind these to fire through holes
pierced in the planks. For half an hour the cannonade continued, and
then the enemy were seen advancing, carrying beams and the trunks of
small trees, to make a bridge across the stream. Had Harry's men been
armed with muskets it would have been next to impossible for the enemy
to succeed in doing this in the face of their fire. But the fire of
their short weapons was wild and uncertain, except at short distances.
Very many of the Roundheads fell, but others pressed forward bravely,
and succeeded in throwing their beams across the stream. By this time
Harry had led out all his force from the mill, and a desperate fight
took place at the bridge. The enemy lined the opposite bank in such
force that none of the defenders could show their heads above the
barricade of sacks, and Harry came to the conclusion that further
resistance was vain. He ordered Jacob to take all the men with the
exception of ten and to retire at once across the ford. He himself with
the remainder would defend the bridge till they were fairly across, and
would then rush over and join them as he might.

With a heavy heart Jacob was preparing to obey this order, when he heard
a loud cheer, and saw Prince Rupert, heading a large body of horse, dash
into the river on the other side. The enemy saw him too. There was an
instant cessation of their fire, and before Prince Rupert had gained
the bank the Roundheads were already in full retreat for Reading. The
bridge was hastily repaired, and the prince pursued for some distance,
chasing their cavalry well-nigh into Reading. Their infantry, however,
held together, and regained that town in safety.

Upon his return Prince Rupert expressed his warm admiration at the
prolonged and gallant defense which Harry had made, and said that the
oldest soldier in the army could not have done better. At Harry's
request he promised the villagers that the next day money should be sent
out from the king's treasury to make good the losses which they had
sustained. Then he left a strong body of horse to hold the village, and
directed Harry to ride with him with his troop to Oxford.

"I have a mission for you, Master Furness," he said, as they rode along.
"I have already told his majesty how coolly and courageously you
conducted yourself in that sore strait in which we were placed together.
The king has need of a messenger to Scotland. The mission is a difficult
one, and full of danger. It demands coolness and judgment as well as
courage. I have told his majesty that, in spite of your youth, you
possess these qualities, but the king was inclined to doubt whether you
were old enough to be intrusted with such a commission. After to-day's
doings he need have no further hesitation. I spoke to your father but
yesterday, and he has given consent that you shall go, the more readily,
methinks, because the good Cavalier thinks that the morals and ways of
many of our young officers to be in no wise edifying for you, and I
cannot but say that he is right. What sayest thou?"

Harry expressed his willingness to undertake any mission with which he
might be charged. He thought it probable that no great movements would
be undertaken in the south for some time, and with a lad's natural love
of adventure, was pleased at the thought of change and variety.

The Scots were at this time arranging for a close alliance with the
Parliament, which had sent emissaries to Edinburgh to negotiate a Solemn
League and Covenant. Sir Henry Vane, who was an Independent, had been
forced to accede to the demand of the Scotch Parliament, that the
Presbyterian religious system of Scotland should be adopted as that of
England, and after much chaffering for terms on both sides, the document
was signed, and was to bind those who subscribed it to endeavor, without
respect of persons, to extirpate popery and prelacy.

On the 25th of September, nearly a week after the battle of Newbury, all
the members of Parliament still remaining in London assembled in St.
Margaret's Church, and signed the Solemn League and Covenant; but even
at this moment of enthusiasm the parties were not true to each other.
The Scotch expected that Presbyterianism would be introduced into
England, and that Episcopacy would be entirely abolished. The English
members, however, signed the declaration with the full intent of
preserving their own religion, that of a form of Episcopacy, altered
much indeed from that of the Church of England, but still differing
widely from the Scotch system.

The king had many adherents in Scotland, chief of whom was the Earl of
Montrose, a most gallant and loyal nobleman.

Upon the day after the fight in the village the king, on Prince Rupert's
recommendation, appointed Harry Furness to bear dispatches to the earl,
and as he was going north, Prince Rupert placed Lady Sidmouth and her
daughter under his charge to convey to the army of the Earl of
Newcastle, under whom her husband was at this time engaged.

Upon asking what force he should take with him the prince said that he
had better proceed with his own troop, as an escort to the ladies, as
far as the camp of Newcastle, filling up the places of those who had
fallen in the skirmishes and fight of Newbury with other men, so as to
preserve his full tale of fifty troopers. When he had fulfilled the
first part of his mission he was to place his troop at the earl's
service until his return, and to proceed in such manner and disguise as
might seem best to him.

Harry started for the north in high spirits, feeling very proud of the
charge confided to him. Lady Sidmouth and her daughter were placed in a
light litter between two horses. Harry took his place beside it. Half
the troop, under the command of the lieutenant, rode in front; the other
half followed. So they started for the north. It was a long journey, as
they were forced to avoid many towns occupied by Roundheads. Upon the
fourth day of their journey they suddenly heard the explosion of
pistols, and the shouts of men in conflict. Harry ordered his lieutenant
to ride forward with half the troop to some rising ground just in front,
and there they saw a combat going on between a party of Cavaliers and a
force of Roundheads, much superior to them in numbers. Harry joined the
lieutenant, and sending back a man with orders to the remaining half of
the troop to form a guard round the litter, he headed the advance party,
and the twenty-five men rode headlong down into the scene of conflict.
It was a sharp fight for a few minutes, and then the accession of
strength which the Cavaliers had gained gave them the superiority, and
the Roundheads fell back, but in good order.

"You arrived just in time, sir," the leader of the party engaged said.
"I am Master John Chillingworth, and am marching to Hardley House, which
the Puritans are about to besiege. There is no time to delay, for see
you not on yonder hill the gleam of pikes? That is the enemy's footmen.
It is only an advanced party of their horse with which we have had this
affair. You cannot go forward in this direction. There is a strong body
of Roundheads lying a few miles to the north."

Harry rode back to Lady Sidmouth, and after a consultation with her and
with Master Chillingworth, they decided to throw themselves into Hardley
House, where the addition of strength which they brought might enable
them to beat off the Roundheads, and then to proceed on their way. They
learned indeed from a peasant that several bodies of Roundheads were
advancing from various directions, and that Hardley House was strong and
well defended. Of the choice of evils, therefore, they thought this to
be the lightest, and, after an hour's hard riding, they arrived before
its walls. It was an old castellated building, with bastions and walls
capable of standing a siege. The party were gladly received by the
master, Sir Francis Burdett, who had placed his castle in a posture of
defense, but was short of men. Upon the news of the approach of the
enemy he had hastily driven a number of cattle into the yard, and had
stores of provisions sufficient to stand a siege for some time.

In a short time the Parliament force, consisting of five hundred footmen
and two hundred horse, appeared before the castle, and summoned it to
surrender. Sir Francis refused to do so, and fired a gun in token of
defiance. Soon a train was seen approaching in the distance, and four
guns were dragged by the enemy to a point of high ground near the
castle. Here the Roundheads began to throw up a battery, but were
mightily inconvenienced while doing so by the guns of the castle, which
shot briskly against them. Working at night, however, in two days they
completed the battery, which, on the third morning, opened fire upon the
castle. The guns were much heavier than those upon the walls, and the
shot, directed at a curtain between two towers, battered the stone
sorely. The Parliament footmen were drawn back a space from the walls so
as to avoid the fire of muskets from the defenders. There were in all in
the castle about two hundred men, one hundred having been collected
before the arrival of the troops of horse. These determined upon making
a desperate resistance when the wall should give way, which would, they
doubted not, be upon the following day. Everything that could be done
was tried to hinder the destruction made by the enemy's shot. Numbers of
sacks were filled with earth, and lowered from the walls above so as to
hang in regular order before it, and so break the force of the shot.
This had some effect, but gradually the wall crumbled beneath the blows
of the missiles from the Roundhead guns.

"We are useless here, save as footmen," Harry said that night to his
host. "There is a postern gate, is there not, behind the castle?
Methinks that if we could get out in the dark unobserved, and form close
to the walls, so that their pickets lying around might not suspect us of
purposing to issue forth, we might, when daylight dawned, make an attack
upon their guns, and if we could spike these the assault would probably
cease."

The attempt was determined upon. The Roundhead infantry were disposed
behind as well as in front of the castle, so as to prevent the escape of
the besieged; but the camp was at a distance of some four hundred yards.
The chains of the drawbridge across the moat were oiled, as were the
bolts of the doors, and at three in the morning the gate was opened, and
the drawbridge lowered across the moat. A thick layer of sacks was then
placed upon the drawbridge. The horses' hoofs were also muffled with
sacking, and then, one by one, the horses were led out, the drawbridge
was drawn up again, and all was quiet. No sound or motion in the Puritan
camp betrayed that their exit was observed, and they could hear the
challenges of the circuit of sentries passed from man to man.

When the first streak of dawn was seen in the east the troop mounted
their horses, and remained quiet until the light should be sufficient to
enable them to see the nature of the ground over which they would have
to pass. This they would be able to do before they themselves were
observed, standing as they were close under the shadow of the walls of
the castle. As soon as it was sufficiently light the trumpets sounded,
and with a burst they dashed across the country. Heeding not the bugle
calls in the camp of the Puritan infantry, they rode straight at the
guns. These were six hundred yards distant, and before the artillerymen
could awake to their danger, the Royalists were upon them. Those that
stood were cut down, and in a minute the guns were spiked. Then the
cavalry swept round, and as the Puritan horse hastily formed up, they
charged them. Although but half their numbers, they had the superiority
in the surprise at which they took their foes, and in the fact of the
latter being but half armed, not having had time to put on their
breastplates. The combat was a short one, and in a few minutes the
Puritans were flying in all directions. The pikemen were now approaching
on either side in compact bodies, and against these Harry knew that his
horsemen could do nothing. He therefore drew them off from the castle,
and during the day circled round and round the place, seizing several
carts of provisions destined for the wants of the infantry, and holding
them in a sort of leaguer.

That night, finding that their guns were disabled, their horse defeated,
and themselves cut off, the rebel infantry drew off, and gave up the
siege of the place. The next morning the cavalry re-entered the castle
in triumph, and having received the hearty thanks of Sir Francis
Burdett, and leaving with him the troop of Master Chillingworth, who
intended to remain there, Harry proceeded on his way north, and reached
York without further adventure.

During the ten days that they had journeyed together Lady Sidmouth had
been greatly pleased with the attention and character of Harry Furness.
He was always cheerful and courteous, without any of that light tone of
flippancy which distinguished the young Cavaliers of the period, and her
little daughter was charmed with her companion. Harry received the
hearty thanks of Sir Henry Sidmouth for the care with which he had
conducted his wife through the dangers of the journey, and then, having
so far discharged his duty, he left his troop at York, and started for
Scotland.

On the way he had discussed with Jacob the measures which he intended to
take for his journey north. Jacob had begged earnestly to accompany him,
and as Harry deemed that his shrewdness might be of great use, he
determined to take him with him, as well as another of his troop. The
latter was a merry fellow, named William Long. He was of grave and sober
demeanor, and never smiled, even while causing his hearers to be
convulsed with laughter. He had a keen sense of humor, was a
ready-witted and courageous fellow, and had frequently distinguished
himself in the various skirmishes. He was the son of a small tenant of
Sir Henry Furness.

His farm was near the hall, and, although three or four years older
than Harry, he had as a boy frequently accompanied him when out hawking,
and in other amusements. Harry felt that, with two attached and faithful
comrades like these, he should he able to make his way through many
dangers. At York he had procured for himself and his followers suits of
clothes of a grave and sober cut, such as would be worn by yeomen; and
here they laid aside their Cavalier garments, and proceeded northward.
They traveled quietly forward as far as Durham, and then went west, as
Berwick was held for the Parliament. They carried weapons, for at that
time none traveled unarmed, and the country through which they had to
pass was greatly disturbed, the moss troopers having taken advantage of
the disorders of the times to renew the habits of their forefathers, and
to make raids upon their southern neighbors, and carry off cattle and
horses. They carried with them but little money, a small quantity in
their valises, and a few gold pieces concealed about their persons, each
choosing a different receptacle, so that in case of pillage some at
least might retain sufficient to carry them on their way. Avoiding the
large towns, where alone they would be likely to be questioned, they
crossed the border, and rode into Scotland.

Upon the day after their crossing the frontier they saw a body of
horsemen approaching them. These drew up when they reached them, Harry
having previously warned his comrades to offer no resistance, as the
party were too strong for them, and his mission was too important to
allow the king's cause to be hazarded by any foolish acts of pugnacity.

"Are you for the king or the kirk?" the leader asked.

"Neither for one nor the other," Harry said. "We are peaceable yeomen
traveling north to buy cattle, and we meddle not in the disputes of the
time."

"Have you any news from the south?"

"Nothing," Harry replied. "We come from Durham, and since the news of
the battle of Newbury, no tidings have come of importance."

The man looked inquisitively at the horses and valises; but Harry had
chosen three stout ponies sufficiently good to carry them, but offering
no temptations to pillagers, and the size of the valises promised but
little from their contents.

"Since you are riding north to buy cattle," the leader said, "you must
have money with you, and money is short with us in these bad times."

"We have not," Harry said; "judging it possible that we might meet with
gentlemen who felt the pressure of the times, we have provided ourselves
with sufficient only to take us up to Kelso, where dwells our
correspondent, who will, we trust, have purchased and collected
sufficient cattle for us to take south when we shall learn that a convoy
of troops is traveling in this direction, for we would not place
temptation in the way of those whom we might meet."

"You are a fellow of some humor," the leader said grimly. "But it is
evil jesting on this side of the border."

"I jest not," Harry said. "There is a proverb in Latin, with which
doubtless your worship is acquainted, to the effect that an empty
traveler may sing before robbers, and, although far from including you
and your worshipful following in that category, yet we may be pardoned
for feeling somewhat light-hearted, because we are not overburdened with
money."

The leader looked savagely at the young man; but seeing that his
demeanor and that of his followers was resolute, that they carried
pistols at their holsters and heavy swords, and deeming that nothing but
hard knocks would come of an attack upon them, he surlily bade his
company follow him, and rode on his way again.




CHAPTER X.

THE COMMISSIONER OF THE CONVENTION.


At Kelso Harry procured changes of garments, attiring himself as a
Lowland farmer, and his companions as two drovers. They were, as before,
mounted; but the costume of English farmers could no longer have been
supported by any plausible story. They learned that upon the direct road
north they should find many bodies of Scotch troops, and therefore made
for the coast. Two days' riding brought them to the little port of
Ayton.

After taking their supper in the common room of the hostelry, there was
a stir outside, and three men, attired as Puritan preachers, entered the
room. Mine host received them with courtesy, but with none of the eager
welcome usually displayed to guests; for these gentry, although
feared--for their power was very great at the time--were by no means
loved, and their orders at a hostelry were not likely to swell the purse
of the host. Stalking to an unoccupied table next to that at which Harry
and his party were sitting, they took their seats and called for supper.

Harry made a sign to his companions to continue talking together, while
he listened attentively to the conversation of the men behind him. He
gathered from their talk that they were commissioners proceeding from
the Presbyterian Convention in London to discuss with that at Edinburgh
upon the points upon which they could come to an agreement for a common
basis of terms. Their talk turned principally upon doctrinal questions,
upon which Harry's ignorance was entire and absolute; but he saw at once
that it would do good service to the king if he could in some way
prevent these men continuing upon their journey, and so for a time
arrest the progress of the negotiations between the king's enemies in
England and Scotland, for at this time the preachers were the paramount
authorities in England. It was they who insisted upon terms, they who
swayed the councils of the nation, and it was not until Cromwell, after
overthrowing the king, overthrew the Parliament, which was for the main
part composed of their creatures, that the power of the preachers came
to an end. It would, of course, have been easy for Harry and his friends
to attack these men during their next day's journey, but this would have
involved the necessity of killing them--from which he shrank--for an
assault upon three godly men traveling on the high business of the
Convention to the Scottish capital would have caused such an outcry that
Harry could not hope to continue on his way without the certainty of
discovery and arrest.

Signing to his comrades to remain in their seats, he strolled off toward
the port, and there entered a public house, which, by its aspect, was
frequented by seafaring men. It was a small room that he entered, and
contained three or four fishermen, and one whom a certain superiority in
dress betokened to be the captain of a vessel. They were talking of the
war, and of the probability

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