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The Young Castellan: A Tale of the English Civil War

by George Manville Fenn · English · Gutenberg #25449 · 526,997 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Young Castellan: A Tale of the English Civil War

Author: George Manville Fenn


        
Release date: May 12, 2008 [eBook #25449]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25449

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG CASTELLAN: A TALE OF THE ENGLISH CIVIL WAR ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Young Castellan, by George Manville Fenn.

________________________________________________________________________
A Castellan is a person in charge of a castle, and that is what young
Roy Royland has become, while his father, Sir Granby, is away defending
his king.  For the time is about 1640, and there is a move afoot in the
country of England to do away with the monarchy.  In the castle most of
its old defences have not been used for many years, perhaps centuries,
and old Ben Martlet sets about restoring them, cleaning up the armour,
teaching young Roy the arts of self-defence, by putting him through a
course of fencing, by restoring the portcullis and draw-bridge, and by
training the men from the neighbouring farms to be soldiers.

But eventually, through treachery, the Roundheads, as those who oppose
the monarchy, are called, manage to take the castle, and to make Roy and
his mother, along with old Ben Martlet and the other defenders,
prisoner.  This can't do the management of the tenant farms much good.

Eventually Sir Granby, Roy's father, appears on the scene, and the
Roundheads are chased away.  As we know from our history books, the
Monarchy was restored, and peace spreads again through the land of
England.

________________________________________________________________________
THE YOUNG CASTELLAN, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.



CHAPTER ONE.

IN THE OLD ARMOURY.

"See these here spots o' red rust, Master Roy?"

"I should be blind as poor old Jenkin if I couldn't, Ben."

"Ay, that you would, sir.  Poor old Jenk, close upon ninety he be; and
that's another thing."

"What do you mean?" said the boy addressed.

"What do I mean, sir?  Why, I mean as that's another thing as shows as
old England's wore out, and rustin' and moulderin' away."

"Is this Dutch or English, Ben?" said the manly-looking boy, who had
just arrived at the age when dark lads get teased about not having
properly washed the sides of their faces and their upper lips, which
begin to show traces of something "coming up."  "I don't understand."

"English, sir," said the weather-beaten speaker, a decidedly ugly man of
about sixty, grizzly of hair and beard, deeply-lined of countenance, and
with a peculiar cicatrice extending from the upper part of his left
cheek-bone diagonally down to the right corner of his lips, and making
in its passage a deep notch across his nose.  "English, sir; good old
honest English."

"You're always grumbling, Ben, and you won't get the rust off that
morion with that."

"That I shan't, sir; and if I uses elber grease and sand, it'll only
come again.  But it's all a sign of poor old England rustin' and
moulderin' away.  The idea!  And at a place like this.  Old Jenk, as
watch at the gate tower, and not got eyes enough to see across the moat,
and even that's getting full o' mud!"

"Well, you wouldn't have father turn the poor old man away because he's
blind and worn-out."

"Not I, sir," said the man, moistening a piece of flannel with oil,
dipping it into some fine white sand, and then proceeding to scrub away
at the rust spots upon the old helmet, which he now held between his
knees; while several figures in armour, ranged down one side of the low,
dark room in which the work was being carried on, seemed to be looking
on and waiting to have their rust removed in turn.

"Then what do you mean?" said the boy.

"I mean, Master Roy, as it's a pity to see the old towers going down
hill as they are."

"But they're not," cried the boy.

"Not, sir?  Well, if you'll excuse me for saying as you're wrong, I'll
say it.  Where's your garrison? where's your horses? and where's your
guns, and powder, and shot, and stores?"

"Fudge, then!  We don't want any garrison nowadays, and as for horses,
why, it was a sin to keep 'em in those old underground stables that used
to be their lodging.  Any one would think you expected to have some one
come and lay siege to the place."

"More unlikely things than that, Master Roy.  We live in strange times,
and the king may get the worst of it any day."

"Oh, you old croaker!" cried Roy.  "I believe you'd like to have a lot
more men in the place, and mount guard, and go on drilling and
practising with the big guns."

"Ay, sir, I should; and with a place like this, it's what ought to be
done."

"Well, it wouldn't be bad fun, Ben," said the boy, thoughtfully.

"Fun, sir?  Don't you get calling serious work like that fun.--But look
ye there.  Soon chevy these spots off, don't I?"

"Yes, it's getting nice and bright," said Roy, gazing down at the steel
headpiece.

"And it's going to get brighter and better before I've done.  I'm going
to let Sir Granby see when he comes back that I haven't neglected
nothing.  I'm a-going to polish up all on 'em in turn, beginning with
old Sir Murray Royland.  Let me see: he was your greatest grandfather,
wasn't he?"

"Yes, he lived in 1480," said the boy, as the old man rose, set down the
morion, and followed him to where the farthest suit of mail stood
against the wall.  "I say, Ben, this must have been very heavy to wear."

"Ay, sir, tidy; but, my word, it was fine for a gentleman in those days
to mount his horse, shining in the sun, and looking as noble as a man
could look.  He's a bit spotty, though, it's been so damp.  But I'll
begin with Sir Murray and go right down 'em all, doing the steeliest
ones first, and getting by degrees to the last on 'em as is only steel
half-way down, and the rest being boots.  Ah! it's a dolesome change
from Sir Murray to Sir Brian yonder at the end, and worse still, to your
father, as wouldn't put nothing on but a breast-piece and back-piece and
a steel cap."

"Why, it's best," said the boy; "steel armour isn't wanted so much now
they've got cannon and guns."

"Ay, that's a sad come-down too, sir.  Why, even when I was out under
your grandfather, things were better and fighting fairer.  People tried
to see who was best man then with their swords.  Now men goes to hide
behind hedges and haystacks, to try and shoot you like they would a
hare."

"Why, they did the same sort of thing with their bows and arrows, Ben,
and their cross-bows and bolts."

"Well, maybe, sir; but that was a clean kind o' fighting, and none of
your sulphur and brimstone, and charcoal and smoke."

"I say, Ben, it'll take you some time to get things straight.  Mean to
polish up the old swords and spears, too?"

"Every man jack of 'em, sir.  I mean to have this armoury so as your
father, when he comes back from scattering all that rabble, will look
round and give me a bit of encouragement."

"Ha, ha!" laughed the boy; "so that's what makes you so industrious."

"Nay it aren't, sir," said the man, with a reproachful shake of his
head.  "I didn't mean money, Master Roy, but good words, and a sort o'
disposition to make the towers what they should be again.  He's a fine
soldier is your father, and I hear as the king puts a lot o' trust in
him; but it always seems to me as he thinks more about farming when he's
down here than he does about keeping up the old place as a good cavalier
should."

"Don't you talk a lot of nonsense," said Roy, hotly; "if my father likes
to live here as country gentlemen do, and enjoy sport and gardening and
farming, who has a better right to, I should like to know?"

"Oh, nobody, sir, nobody," said the man, scouring away at the rusted
steel.

"And besides, times are altered.  When this castle was built, gentlemen
used to have to protect themselves, and kept their retainers to fight
for them.  Now there's a regular army, and the king does all that."

That patch of rust must have been a little lighter on, for the man
uttered a low grunt of satisfaction.

"It would be absurd to make the towers just as they used to be, and shut
out the light and cover the narrow slits with iron bars."

"Maybe, Master Roy; but Sir Granby might have the moat cleared of mud,
and kept quite full."

"What!  I just hope it won't be touched.  Why, that would mean draining
it, and then what would become of my carp and tench?"

"Ketch 'em and put 'em in tubs, sir, and put some little uns back."

"Yes, and then it would take years for them to grow, and all the
beautiful white and yellow water-lilies would be destroyed."

"Yes; but see what a lot of fine, fat eels we should get, sir.  There's
some thumpers there.  I caught a four-pounder on a night-line last
week."

"Ah, you did, did you?" cried the lad; "then don't you do it again
without asking for leave."

"All right, sir, I won't; but you don't grudge an old servant like me
one eel?"

"Of course I don't, Ben," said the lad, importantly; "but the moat is
mine.  Father gave it to me as my own special fishing-place before he
went away, and I don't allow any one to fish there without my leave."

"I'll remember, sir," said the man, beginning to whistle softly.

"I don't grudge you a _few_ eels, Ben, and you shall have plenty; but
next time you want to fish, you ask."

"Yes, sir, I will."

"And what you say is all nonsense: the place is beautiful as it is.
Why, I believe if you could do as you liked, you'd turn my mother's
pleasaunce and the kitchen-garden into drill-grounds."

"That I would, sir," said the man, flushing up.  "The idea of a
beautiful square of ground, where the men might be drilled, and practise
with sword and gun, being used to grow cabbages in.  Er! it's horrid!"

Roy laughed.

"You're a rum fellow, Ben," he cried.  "I believe you think that people
were meant to do nothing else but fight and kill one another."

"Deal better than spending all their time over books, sir," said the
man; "and you take my advice.  You said something to me about being a
statesman some day, and serving the king that way.  Now, I s'pose I
don't know exactly what a statesman is, but I expect it's something o'
the same sort o' thing as Master Pawson is, and--You won't go and tell
him what I says, sir?"

"Do you want me to kick you, Ben?" said the boy, indignantly.

"Oh, I don't know, sir," said the man, with a good-humoured smile
lighting up his rugged features; "can, if you like.  Wouldn't be the
first time by many a hundred."

"What!  When did I kick you?"

"Lots o' times when you was a little un, and I wouldn't let you drown
yourself in the moat, or break your neck walking along the worsest parts
o' the ramparts, or get yourself trod upon by the horses.  Why, I've
known you kick, and squeal, and fight, and punch me as hard as ever you
could."

"And did it hurt you, Ben?"

"Hurt me, sir?  Not it.  I liked it.  Showed you was made o' good stuff,
same good breed as your father; and I used to say to myself, `That young
cub'll turn out as fine a soldier as his father some day, and I shall
have the job o' training him.'  But deary me, deary me, old England's
a-wasting all away!  You aren't got the sperrit you had, my lad; and
instead o' coming to me cheery-like, and saying, `Now, Ben, get out the
swords and let's have a good fence, or a bit o' back-sword or
broad-sword-play, or a turn with the singlestick or staves,' you're
always a-sticking your nose into musty old parchments, or dusty books,
along o' Master Palgrave Pawson.  Brrr!"

The latter was a low growl, following a loud smack given to the side of
the helmet, after which, as the lad stood fretting and fuming, the old
servant scrubbed away at the steel furiously.

"It isn't true, Ben," the boy cried at last, indignantly; "and perhaps
I'm going to be a soldier after all, especially if this trouble goes
on."

"Tchaw! trouble goes on!" said the man, changing the steel headpiece for
a cuirass.  "There won't be no trouble.  First time your father gets a
sight of the mob of tailors, and shoemakers, and tinkers, with an old
patch-work counterpane atop of a clothes-prop for their flag, he'll ride
along the front of his ridgement of cavaliers, and he'll shout to 'em in
that big voice of his as I've followed many's the time; and `Don't draw,
gentlemen,' he'll say; `ride the scum down, and make the rest run;' and
then they'll all roar with laughing loud enough to drown the trumpet
charge.  My word, I'd a gi'n something to ha' been there to see the
rebels fly like dead leaves before a wind in November.  But it were a
mean and a cruel thing, Master Roy.  Look at that arm, look at these
legs!  I'm a better and a stronger man than ever I was, and could sit
any horse they'd put me on.  But to leave an old soldier, as had
followed him as I have, at home here to rust like the rest o' things,
when there was a chance for a bit o' fun, it went right to my 'art, sir,
and it seemed to me as if it warn't the master as I used to sit with in
the ranks."

The old fellow was bending now over the breastplate and rubbing hard,
while as Roy listened to his excited words, wondering at the way in
which he seemed to resent what he looked upon as a slight, something
dropped upon the polished steel with a pat, and spread out; and Roy
thought to himself that if that drop of hot salt water stayed there, it
would make a deeper rust spot than anything.

But it did not stay, for the man hastily rubbed it away, and began with
a rough show of indifference to hum over an old Devon song, something
about "A morn in May, to hear birds whistle and see lambkins play."

But he ceased as the boy laid a hand upon his shoulder, and bent over
the breastplate and rubbed at it very slowly, listening intently the
while.

"Don't you get thinking that, Ben Martlet," said the boy, gently;
"father wanted to take you, and he said you were not too old."

"Nay, nay, nay, sir; don't you get trying to ile me over.  I know."

"But you don't know," said the boy, hotly; "he said he should take you,
but my mother asked him not to."

"Ay, she would, sir.  She won't let you be a soldier, and she comes over
your father as I was too old and helpless to be any good."

"You're a stupid, pig-headed, old chump," cried Roy, angrily.

"Yes, sir; that's it; now you're at me too.  Rusty, and worn-out, and
good for nothing; but it'll soon be over.  I used to think it must be
very horrid to have to die, but I know better now, and I shan't be sorry
when my turn comes."

"Will--you--listen to--what--I have--to say?" cried the boy.

"Oh, ay, sir, I'll listen.  You're my master, now Sir Granby's away, and
nobody shan't say as Ben Martlet didn't do his dooty as a soldier to the
end, even if he is set to dig in a garden as was once a castle
court-yard."

"Oh, you obstinate old mule!" cried Roy, gripping the man's shoulders,
as he stood behind him, sawing him to and fro, and driving his knee
softly into the broad strong back.  "Will you listen?"

"Yes, sir, I'll listen; but that's only your knee.  Kick the old
worn-out mule with your boot-toe, and--"

"I've a good mind to," cried Roy.  "Now listen: my mother begged of
father to leave you here."

"Oh, ay, of course."

"Quiet!" roared Roy, "or I will really kick--hard; because she said she
would feel safer, and that, if any trouble did arise with some of the
men, Martlet would put it down at once, and everything would go right."

The cuirass went down on the dark oaken boards with a loud clang, and
the old soldier sprang to his feet panting heavily.

"Her ladyship said that?" he cried.

"Yes."

"Say it again, sir; say it again!" he cried, in a husky voice.

Roy repeated the words.

"Yes, yes, sir; and what--what did Sir Granby say to that?"

"Said he was very sorry and very glad."

"What?"

"Sorry to leave you, because it didn't seem natural to go back to the
regiment without his right-hand man."

"Right-hand man?"

"Yes; but he was glad my mother felt so about you, for he could go away
more contented now, and satisfied that all would be right.  For though--
ahem!--he had the fullest confidence in me, I was too young to have the
management of men."

"Wrong, wrong, sir--wrong.  On'y want a bit o' training, and you'd make
as good a captain as ever stepped.--Then it was her ladyship's doing,
and she said all that?"

"Yes."

"God bless her! my dear mistress.  Here, don't you take no notice o'
this here," cried the rough fellow, changing his tone, and undisguisedly
wiping the salt tears from his face.  "I don't work so much as I ought,
sir, and this here's only what you calls presperashum, sir, as collects,
and will come out somewheres.  And so her ladyship says that, did her?"

"Yes, Ben."

"Then why haven't I knowed this afore?  Here's three months gone by
since the master went to take command of his ridgement, and I see him
off.  Ay, I did send him off looking fine, and here have I been eating
my heart out ever since.  Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, I don't know.  Yes, I do.  Of course, I wasn't going to tattle
about what my father and mother said, but when I heard you talk as you
did, and seem so cut up and unjust, why, I did."

"Here, let me have it, my lad!  Kick away!  Jump on me for an old fool.
Why, I'm as blind as old Jenk.  Worse.--She'd feel safer if there was
any trouble.  Bless her!  Oh, what an old fool I've been.  No wonder
I've got so weak and thin."

"Ha, ha, ha!"

"What are you laughing at, sir?"

"You weak and thin!  Why, you're as strong as a horse."

"Well, I am, Master Roy," said the man, with a grim smile of pride.
"But I have got a bit thin, sir."

"Not a bit thinner."

"Well, I aren't enjoyed my vittles since the master went, sir.  You
can't contradick that."

"No, and don't want to; but you did eat a four or five pound eel that
you'd no right to catch."

"That I didn't, sir.  I give it to poor old Jenk to make a pie.  I never
tasted it."

"Then you may catch as many as you like, Ben, without asking."

"Thank you, sir; but I don't want to go eeling now.  Here, let's have
all this fighting-tackle so as you can see your face in it.  But I say,
my lad, do 'ee, now do 'ee, alter your mind; leave being statesman to
them soft, smooth kind o' fellows like Master Pawson."

"I don't see why one couldn't be a statesman and a soldier too," said
the boy.

"I don't know nothing about that sort, sir; but I do know how to handle
a sword or to load a gun.  I do say, though, as you're going wrong
instead of right."

"How?"

"How, sir?  Just look at your hands."

"Well, what's the matter with them?" said the boy, holding them out.

Ben Martlet uttered a low, chuckling laugh.

"I'll tell you, sir.  S'pose any one's badly, and the doctor comes; what
does he do first?"

"Feels his pulse."

"What else?"

"Looks at his tongue."

"That's it, my lad; and he knows directly from his tongue what's the
matter with him.  Now, you see, Master Roy, I aren't a doctor."

"Not you, Ben; doctors cure people; soldiers kill 'em."

"Not always, Master Roy," said the old fellow, whose face during the
last few minutes had lit up till he seemed in the highest of glee.
"Aren't it sometimes t'other way on?  But look here: doctors look at
people's tongues to see whether they wants to be physicked, or to have
their arms or legs cut off.  I don't.  I looks at a man's hand to see
what's the matter with him, and if I see as he's got a soft, white hand
like a gal's, I know directly he's got no muscles in his arms, no spring
in his back, and no legs to nip a horse's ribs or to march fifty mile in
a day.  Now, just look at yours."

"Oh, I can't help what my hands are like," said the boy, impatiently.

"Oh, yes, you can, sir.  You've been a-neglecting of 'em, sir, horrible;
so just you come to me a little more and let me harden you up a bit.  If
you've got to be a statesman, you won't be none the worse for being able
to fight, and ride, and run.  Now, will you? and--There's some one
a-calling you, my lad."

"Yes, coming!" cried Roy; and he hurried out of the armoury into a long,
dark passage, at the end of which a window full of stained glass
admitted the sunbeams in a golden, scarlet, blue, and orange sheaf of
rays which lit up the tall, stately figure of a lady, to whom the boy
ran with a cry of--

"Yes, mother!"



CHAPTER TWO.

ROY'S MOTHER AND TUTOR.

"I had missed you, Roy," said the lady, smiling proudly on the boy; and
he looked with eyes full of pride at the beautiful woman, who now rested
her arm upon his shoulder and walked by his side into the more homelike
part of the old fortalice, whose grim interior had been transformed by
wainscoting, hangings, carpets, stained glass, and massive oak furniture
into the handsome mansion of the middle of the seventeenth century.

They passed down a broad staircase into a noble hall, and from thence
into a library whose broad, low, mullioned stone window opened into what
had been the inner court of the castle, whose ramparts and flanking
corner towers were still there; but the echoing stones that had once
paved it had given place to verdant lawn, trim flower-beds ablaze with
bloom, quaintly-cut shrubs, and creepers which beautified the walls once
so bare and grim.

"I want to talk to you, Roy," said Lady Royland, sinking into a great
formal chair.  "Bring your stool and sit down."

"Got too big for the stool, mother," said the boy; "I can't double up my
legs close enough.  I'll sit here."

He threw himself upon the thick carpet at her feet, and rested his arms
upon her lap.

"Want to talk to me?  I'd rather hear you read."

"Not now, my dear."

"Why, what's the matter, mother?" said the boy, anxiously.  "You're as
white as can be.  Got one of your headaches?"

"No, my boy,--at least, my head does ache.  But it is my heart, Roy,--my
heart."

"Then you've heard bad news," cried the boy.  "Oh, mother, tell me; what
is it?  Not about father?"

"No, no; Heaven forbid, my dear," cried Lady Royland, wildly.  "It is
the absence of news that troubles me so."

"I ought to say us," said Roy, angrily; "but I'm so selfish and
thoughtless."

"Don't think that, my boy.  You are very young yet, but I do wish you
would give more thought to your studies with Master Pawson."

The boy frowned.

"I wish you'd let me read with you, mother," he said.  "I understand
everything then, and I don't forget it; but when that old--"

"Master Palgrave Pawson," said Lady Royland, reprovingly, but with a
smile.

"Oh, well, Master Palgrave Pawson.  P.P., P.P.  What a mouthful it seems
to be!"

"Roy!"

"I've tried, mother; but I do get on so badly with him.  I can't help
it; I don't like him, and he doesn't like me, and it will always be the
same."

"But why?  Why do you not like him?"

"Because--because--well, he always smiles at me so."

"That does not seem as if he disliked you.  Rather the reverse."

"He's so smooth and oily."

"It is only his manner, my dear.  He seems to be very sincere, and to
have your welfare at heart."

"Yes, that's it, mother; he won't let me alone."

"But he is your tutor, my dear.  You know perfectly well that he came to
be your father's secretary and your tutor combined."

"Yes, I know, mother," said the boy, impatiently; "but somehow he
doesn't seem to teach me."

"But he is very studious, and tries hard."

"Yes, I know.  But he seems to think I'm about seven instead of nearly
seventeen, and talks to me as if I were a very little boy, and--and--and
we don't get on."

"This sounds very sad, Roy, and I cannot bear to have a fresh trouble
now.  Your studies are so important to us."

Roy reached up to get his arms round his mother's neck, drew her head
down, and kissed her lovingly.

"And she shan't have any more trouble," he cried.  "I'll get wonderfully
fond of old Paw."

"Roy!"

"Master Palgrave Pawson, then; and I'll work at my lessons and classics
like a slave.  But you will read with me, too, mother?"

"As much as you like, my son.  Thank you.  That has taken away part of
my load."

"I wish I could take away the rest; but I know you're fidgeting because
father hasn't written, and think that something has happened to him.
But don't you get fancying that, because there can't be anything.
They've only gone after a mob of shoemakers and tailors with a
counterpane for flag, and father will scatter them all like dead
leaves."

"Roy!  My boy, these are not your words?"

"No, mother; old Ben Martlet said something of that kind to me this
morning."

"Does he not know, then, how serious it is?"

"Serious?  What do you mean by serious?"

Lady Royland drew a deep breath, and laid her hand upon her side as if
in pain.

"Why, mother," repeated the boy, "what do you mean by serious?"

"This trouble--this rising, my dear.  We have had no news, but Master
Pawson has had letters from London, and he tells me that what was
supposed to be a little petty discontent has grown into a serious
revolution."

Roy gazed in his mother's troubled face as if he did not quite
comprehend the full extent of her words.

"Well, and if it has, mother, what then?"

"What then, my boy?"

"Yes.  You've nothing to fidget about.  Father is there with his men,
and he'll soon put a stop to it all.  You know how stern he can be when
people misbehave."

"My dear Roy, this, I am afraid, is going to be no little trouble that
your father can put down with his men.  Master Pawson tells me that
there is every prospect of its being a civil war."

"What!  Englishmen fighting against Englishmen?"

"Yes; a terrible fratricidal war."

"But who has quarrelled, mother?  Oh, the king will soon stop it."

"Roy, my boy, we have kept you so shut up here in this retired place for
home study, instead of parting with you to send you to one of the great
schools, that in some things you are as ignorant as I."

"Oh, mother!" cried the boy, laughing.  "You ignorant!  I only wish I
were half as learned and clever.  Why, father said--"

"Yes, yes, dear; but that is only book-learning.  We have been so happy
here that the jarring troubles of politics and the court have not
reached our ears; and I, for one, never gave them a thought till, after
all these years of peacefulness, your father found himself compelled to
obey the call of duty, and left us.  We both thought that it was only
for a week or two, and then the disturbance would be at an end; but
every letter he has sent me has contained worse news, till now it is
nearly a month since I have heard from him."

"Then it is because he is putting down the rioters," said Roy, quickly.

"Rioters, my boy!  Rebels you should say, for I fear that a great
attempt is to be made to overthrow the monarchy.  Master Pawson's
informants assure him that this is the case, and before long, he says,
there must be an encounter between the Royal and the Parliamentary
troops."

"Is Master Pawson right, mother?  Royal troops--Parliamentary troops?
Why, they're all the same."

"No, Roy; there is a division--a great division, I fear, and
discontented people are taking the side against the king."

"Then I'm sorry for them," said the boy, flushing.  "They'll get a most
terrible beating, these discontented folks."

"Let us hope so, my boy, so that there may be an end to this terrible
anxiety.  To those who have friends whom they love in the army, a
foreign war is dreadful enough; but when I think of the possibility of a
war here at home, with Englishmen striving against Englishmen, I
shudder, and my heart seems to sink."

"Look here," cried the boy, as he rose and stood with his hand resting
upon his mother's shoulder, "you've been fidgeting and fancying all
sorts of things, because you haven't heard from father."

"Yes, yes," said Lady Royland, faintly.

"Then you mustn't, mother.  'Tis as I say; he is too busy to write, or
else he hasn't found it easy to send you a letter.  I'll take the pony
and ride over to Sidecombe and see when the Exeter wagon comes in.
There are sure to be letters for you, and even if there are not, it will
make you more easy for me to have been to see, and I can bring you back
what news there is.  I'll go at once."

Lady Royland took hold of her son's hand and held it fast.

"No," she said, making an effort to be firm.  "We will wait another day.
I have been fidgeting, dear, as you say, and it has made me nervous and
low-spirited; but I'm better now for talking to you, my boy, and letting
you share my trouble.  I dare say I have been exaggerating."

"But I should like to ride over, mother."

"You shall go to-morrow, Roy; but even then I shall be loath to let you.
There, you see I am quite cheerful again.  You are perfectly right;
your father is perhaps away with his men, and he may have sent, and the
letter has miscarried in these troublous times."

"I shouldn't like to be the man who took it, if it has miscarried," said
the boy, laughing.

"Poor fellow! it may have been an accident.  There, go to Master Pawson
now; and Roy, my dear, don't talk about our trouble to any one for the
present."

"Not to old Pawson?"

"Master Pawson."

"Not to Master Pawson?" said Roy, smiling.

"Not unless he speaks to you about it; then, of course, you can."

"But he won't, mother.  He only talks to me about the Greek and Latin
poets and about music.  I say, you don't want to see me squeezing a big
fiddle between my knees and sawing at it with a bow as if I wanted to
cut all the strings, do you, mother?"

"My dear boy, not unless you wished to learn the violoncello."

"Well, I don't," said Roy, pettishly; "but old Master Pawson is always
bringing his out of its great green-baize bag and talking to me about
it.  He says that he will instruct me, and he is sure that my father
would have one sent to me from London if I asked him.  Just as if there
are not noises enough in the west tower now without two of us sawing
together.  _Thrrum, thrrum, throomp, throomp, throomp_!"

Roy struck an attitude as if playing, running his left hand up and down
imaginary strings while he scraped with his right, and produced no bad
imitation of the vibrating strings with his mouth.

"I should not dislike for you to play some instrument to accompany my
clavichord, Roy," said Lady Royland, smiling at the boy's antics.

"Very well, then; I'll learn the trumpet," cried the lad.  "I'm off now
to learn--not music."

"One moment, Roy, my dear," said Lady Royland, earnestly.  "Don't let
your high spirits get the better of your discretion."

"Of course not, mother."

"You do not understand me, my dear.  I am speaking very seriously now.
I mean, do not let Master Pawson think that you ridicule his love of
music.  It would be very weak and foolish, and lower you in his eyes."

"Oh, I'll mind, mother."

"Recollect that he is a scholar and a gentleman, and in your father's
confidence."

Roy nodded, and his lips parted as if to speak, but he closed them
again.

"What were you going to say, Roy?"

"Oh, nothing, mother."

"Nothing?"

"Well, only--that--I was going to say, do you like Master Pawson?"

"As your tutor and your father's secretary, yes.  He is a very clever
man, I know."

"Yes, he's a very clever man," said Roy, as, after kissing his mother
affectionately, he went off towards the west tower, which had been
specially fitted up as study and bedchamber for the gentleman who had
come straight from Oxford to reside at Sir Granby Royland's seat a
couple of years before this time.  "Yes, he's a very clever man," said
Roy to himself; "but I thought I shouldn't like him the first day he
came, and I've gone on thinking so ever since.  I don't know why, but--
Oh, yes, I do," cried the boy, screwing up his face with a look of
disgust: "it's because, as he says, I've no soul for music."

For just at that moment a peculiar long-drawn wailing sound came from
the open window of the west tower, and a dog lying curled up on the
grass in the sun sprang up and began to bark, finishing off with a long,
low howl, as it stretched out its neck towards the open window.

"Poor old Nibbs! he has no soul for it, either," said the boy to
himself, as his face lit up with a mirthful expression.  "It woke him
up, and he thought it was cats.  Wonder what tune that is?  He won't
want me to interrupt him now.  Better see, though, and speak to him
first, and then I'll go and see old Ben polish the armour."



CHAPTER THREE.

COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE.

The wail on one string went on, and naturally sounded louder as Roy
Royland opened a door to stand gazing in at the quaint octagonal room,
lit by windows splayed to admit more light to the snug quarters hung
with old tapestry, and made cosy with thick carpet and easy-chair, and
intellectual with dwarf book-cases filled with choice works.  These had
overflowed upon the floor, others being piled upon the tops of chairs
and stacked in corners wherever room could be found, while some were
even ranged upon the narrow steps of the corkscrew stone staircase which
led to the floor above, occupied by Master Palgrave Pawson for a
bedchamber, the staircase being continued up to the leads, where it
ended in a tiny turret.

"I wonder what father will say, my fine fellow, when he finds what a lot
of his books you've brought up out of the library," said Roy to himself,
as he stood watching the plump, smooth-faced youngish man, who, with an
oblong music-book open before him on the table, was seated upon a stool,
with a 'cello between his legs, gravely sawing away at the strings, and
frowning severely whenever, through bad stopping with his fingers--and
that was pretty often--he produced notes "out of tune and harsh."  The
musician was dressed, according to the fashion of the day, in dark
velvet with a lace collar, and wore his hair long, so that it
inconvenienced him; the oily curls, hanging down on either side of his
fat face like the valance over an old-fashioned four-post bedstead,
swaying to and fro with the motion of the man's body, and needing, from
time to time, a vigorous shake to force them back when they encroached
too far forward and interfered with his view of the music.

The slow, solemn, dirge-like air went on, but the player did not turn
his head, playing away with grave importance, and giving himself a
gentle inclination now and then to make up for the sharp twitches caused
by the tickling hair.

"You saw me," said Roy, speaking to himself, but at the musician, "for
one of your eyes turned this way; but you won't speak till you've got to
the end of that bit of noise.  Oh, how I should like to shear off those
long greasy curls!  They make you look worse even than you do when
they're all twisted up in pieces of paper.  It doesn't suit your round,
fat face.  You don't look a bit like a cavalier, Master P.P.; but I
suppose you're a very good sort of fellow, or else father would not have
had you here."

Just then the music ended with an awkwardly performed run up an octave
and four scrapes across the first and second strings.

"Come in, boy," said the player, taking up a piece of resin to apply to
the hair of the bow, "and shut the door."

He spoke in a highly-pitched girlish voice, which somehow always tickled
Roy and made him inclined to laugh, and the desire increased upon this
occasion as he said, solemnly--

"Saraband."

"Oh!  Who's she?" said the boy, wonderingly.

The secretary threw his head back, shaking his curls over his broad
turn-down collar, and smiled pityingly.

"Ah," he said, "now this is another proof of your folly, Roy, in
preferring the society of the servants to that of the noble works with
which your father has stored his library.  What ignorance!  A saraband
is a piece of dance music, Italian in origin; and that was a very
beautiful composition."

"Dance?" cried the boy.  "People couldn't dance to a tune like that.  I
thought it was an old dirge."

"Want of taste and appreciation, boy.  But I see you would prefer
something light and sparkling.  I will--sit down--play you a coranto."

It was on Roy's lips to say, "Oh, please don't," but he contented
himself with crossing the room, lifting some books off an oaken
window-seat, his tutor watching him keenly the while, and putting them
on the floor; while, with his head still thrown back on one side, Master
Palgrave Pawson slowly turned over the leaves of his music-book with the
point of his bow.

Roy seated himself, with a sigh, after a glance down through the open
window at the glistening moat dotted with the great silver blossoms and
dark flat leaves of the water-lilies, seeing even from there the shadowy
forms of the great fish which glided slowly among the slimy stalks.

"Ready?" said the musician, giving his hand a flourish.

"Yes, sir," said Roy, aloud; and then to himself, "Oh, what an awful
fib."  Then he wrinkled up his brows dismally, and began to think of old
Ben polishing the armour and swords; but the next moment his face
smoothed out stiffly, and he grew red in his efforts to keep from
laughing aloud, for Master Pawson commenced jerking and snatching from
the strings a remarkable series of notes, which followed one another in
a jigging kind of fairly rapid sequence, running up and down the gamut
and in and out, as if the notes of the composer had suddenly become
animated, and, like some kind of tiny, big-headed, long-tailed goblins,
were chasing one another in and out of the five lines of the stave,
leaping from bar to bar, never stopping for a rest, making fun of the
flats and sharps, and finally pausing, breathless and tired, as the
player now finally laid down the bow, took out a fine laced
handkerchief, and began to wipe his fingers and mop his brow.

"There," he said, smiling; "you like that bright, sparkling composition
better?"

"No," said Roy, decisively; "no, I don't think I do."

"I am glad of it; very glad of it.  I was afraid that you preferred the
light and trivial coranto to the graceful saraband."

"But, I say.  Master Pawson, the Italians surely don't dance to such
music as that?"

"I have never been in Italy, my dear pupil, but I believe they do.
Going?"

Roy had risen from his chair.

"Yes, sir; I thought, as you were practising, you would not want me to
stop and read to-day, and you are writing a letter, too."

"Letter?" said the secretary, hurriedly reaching towards an open sheet
upon the table and turning it over with the point of his bow.  "Oh,
that?  Yes, some notes--some notes.  Well, it is a fine day, and
exercise is good, and perhaps I shall run through a few more
compositions.  So you can go, and we will study a little in the evening,
for we must not neglect our work, Roy, my dear pupil; we must not
neglect our work."

"No, sir.  Thank you, sir," said the boy; and, for fear of a change of
decision, he hurried from the room and made his way out upon the old
ramparts, to begin walking leisurely round the enclosed garden, and
looking outward from the eminence upon which the castle was built across
the moat at the foot, and away over the sunny forest towards the village
and little church, whose spire rose about two miles away.

"I wish he wouldn't always call me `my dear pupil,' and smile at me as
if he looked down from ever so high up.  I don't know how it is, but I
always feel as if I don't like him.  I suppose it's because he's so
plump and smooth.

"Seems hard," mused the boy, seating himself in one of the crenellations
of the rampart, and thinking deeply, "that he should get letters with
news from London, and poor mother not have a line.  That was a letter on
the table, though he pretended it was not, for I could see it began like
one.  I didn't want to read it.  Perhaps he was ashamed of being always
writing letters.  Don't matter to me.  Afraid, perhaps, that he'll be
told that he ought to attend more to teaching me.  Wish he'd be always
writing letters.  I can learn twice as much reading with mother."

It was very beautiful in that sunny niche in the mouldering stones close
to the tower farthest away from that occupied by the secretary, and a
spot much favoured by the boy, for from there he could look right over
the square gate-way with its flanking towers, and the drawbridge which
was never drawn, and the portcullis which was never lowered.

"Can't hear him playing here," thought Roy that day; and he
congratulated himself upon the fact, without pausing to think that the
distance was so short that the notes should have been audible.

Roy had been successful in getting off his reading with the tutor, but
he was very undecided what to do next, for there were so many things to
tempt him, and his mind kept on running in different directions.  One
minute he was dwelling on his mother's troubles and the want of news
from his father, and from this it was a natural transition to thinking
of how grand it would be if he could prevail upon her to let him go up
to that far-away mysterious city, which it took days to reach on
horseback, and then he could take her letter and find where his father
was lying with his regiment, and see the army,--maybe see the king and
queen, and perhaps his father might let him stay there,--at all events
for a time.

Then he was off to thinking about the great moat, for twice over a
splash rose to his ears, and he could see the rings of water which
spread out and made the lily-leaves rise and fall.

"That was the big tench," he said to himself.  "Must catch that fellow
some day.  He must weigh six or seven pounds.  It ought to be a good
time now.  Want a strong line, though, and a big hook, for he'd run in
and out among the lily-stems and break mine.  Now, if I knew where
father was, I could write and ask him to buy me one and send it down by
his next letter.  No: he wouldn't want to be bothered to buy me
fishing-lines when he's with his regiment.  I know," he said to himself,
after a pause; "old Ben has got the one he caught the big eel with.
I'll make him lend me that.  Poor old Ben! who'd ever have thought that
he could cry.  For it was crying just as a little boy would.  Seems
funny, because he has been a brave soldier, and saved father's life
once.  Shouldn't have thought a man like that could cry."

Roy began to whistle softly, and then picked up a little cushion-like
patch of velvety green moss and pitched it down towards a jackdaw that
was sitting on a projecting stone just below a hole, watching him
intently, first with one eye and then with the other, as if puzzled to
know what he was doing so near to his private residence, where his wife
was sitting upon a late batch of eggs, an accident connected with rats
having happened to the first.

It did not occur to the bird that it was quite impossible for its
nesting-place to be reached without a swing down from above by a rope;
but, being still puzzled, it tried to sharpen its intellectual faculties
by standing on one leg and scratching its grey poll with the claws of
the other, a feat which made it unsteady and nearly topple over towards
the deep moat below.

"_Tah_!" it cried, in resentment of the insult when the little green
moss cushion was thrown; and, as the bird sailed away, Roy rose and
walked slowly along the rampart, through the corner tower, and then on
towards the front, where that over the outer gate-way stood tall,
massive, and square.  Here the boy left the rampart, entered through a
low arched door, and stood in the great chamber over the main gate-way,
where the rusty chains were wound round the two capstans, held fast now
by their checks, and suspending the huge grated portcullis, with its
spikes high enough to be clear of a coachman driving a carriage.

"Wonder whether we could let that down?" thought Roy.

He had often had the same thought, but it came very strongly now, and he
began to calculate how many men it would take to lower the portcullis,
and whether he, Ben, and a couple more could manage it.

"Looks as if everything must be set fast with rust," he thought, and he
was about to turn and descend; but as he reached the corner where the
spiral steps led down, he stood where they also led up to another
chamber in the massive stone-work, and again higher to the leads.

The result was that in his idle mood Roy began to ascend, to find
half-way up, by the slit which gave light, that the jackdaws had been
busy there too, coming in and out by the loop-hole, and building a nest
which was supported upon a scaffolding of sticks which curved up from
the stone step on which it rested, and from that to the splay and sill
by the loop-hole.

"Only an old one," said the boy to himself, and he brought the great
edifice down with a sharp kick or two, thinking that it must be about a
year since any one had come up that way.

"What a lot of the old place seems no use!" he said to himself, as, with
the dry sticks crackling beneath his feet, he climbed up the dark
stairway and entered the next chamber through its low arched door.

"Why, what a jolly private room this would make!" he said to himself;
"only wants a casement in and some furniture.  I'll ask father to let me
have it for my play--I mean study; no, I don't--I mean odds and ends
place."

He paused--after glancing out at the beautiful view over the woodland
country dotted with meadow-like pastures in which the ruddy cattle of
the county grazed--by the open fireplace with the arms of the Roylands
cut in stone beneath the narrow shelf, and the sight of this opening,
with the narrow, well-made chimney and some projecting stone blocks from
the fire-back, set him thinking.

"Fight differently now," he said, as he recalled the object of the
furnace before him, and how he had heard or read that it was used on
purpose to melt lead ready for pouring down upon the besiegers who might
have forced their way across the drawbridge to the portcullis.  "Fancy
melting lead here to pour down upon men's heads!  What wretches we must
have been in the old days."

He altered his mind, though, directly, as he went back to the stairway.

"Perhaps we never did pour any down, for I don't think anybody ever did
attack the castle."

Thinking he might as well go a little higher, he mounted the spiral
instead of descending, the dry elm twigs brought in by the jackdaws
which made the untenanted corners their home crackling again beneath his
feet.

Passing out of the corner turret, which supported a stout, new
flag-pole, he was now on the leaded roof of the great square tower,
which frowned down upon the drawbridge and gazed over the outer
gate-way, in whose tower old Jenkin Bray, the porter, dwelt, and whom
Roy could now see sitting beside the modern iron gate sunning himself,
his long white hair and beard glistening in the light.

There were openings for heavy guns in front here, and a broad, level,
projecting parapet with a place where the defenders could kneel, and
which looked like a broad seat at the first glance, while at its foot
was a series of longish, narrow, funnel-shaped openings, over which the
boy stood, gazing down through them at the entrance to the main
gate-way, noting how thoroughly they commanded the front of where the
portcullis would stand when dropped, and where any enemies attacking and
trying to break through would be exposed to a terrible shower of molten
lead, brought up from the furnace in the chamber below to pour down upon
the besiegers, while those who assailed them were in perfect safety.

"Horrid!" muttered Roy; "but I don't know; the enemy should stop away
and leave the people in the castle alone.  But hot lead!  Boiling water
wouldn't seem so bad.  But surely Master Pawson's friend is wrong; we
can't be going to have war here in England.  Well, if we do, there's
nothing to bring them here."

Roy left the machicolations and knelt upon the broad stone seat-like
place to stretch himself across the parapet, and look down, over the
narrow patch of stone paving, down into the deep moat, whose waters were
lit up by the sunshine, so that the boy could see the lily and other
water-plant stems and clumps of reed mace; at the farther edge the great
water-docks and plantains, with the pink-blossomed rush.  But his
attention was wholly riveted by the fish which swarmed in the sunny
depths, and for a time he lay there upon his breast, kicking up his
heels and studying the broad-backed carp, some of which old age had
decked with patches of greyish mould.  There were fat tench, too,
walloping about among the lilies, and appearing to enjoy the pleasure of
forcing their way in and out among the leaves and stems; while the carp
sailed about in the open water, basking in the sunshine, and seemed to
find their satisfaction in leaping bodily out of the water to fall back
with a splash.

There were roach, too, in shoals, and what seemed remarkable was that
they kept swimming close up to where a great pike of nearly three feet
long lay motionless, close to a patch of weed.

"Must be asleep," thought Roy, "or not hungry, and they all know it,
because he would soon snap up half a dozen of them."

Then, as he lay lazily watching the fish in the drowsy sunshine which
had warmed the stones, the political troubles of the nation and the
great cloud of war, with its lightnings, destruction, and death, were
unseen.  He was surrounded by peace in the happiest days of boyhood, and
trouble seemed as if it could not exist.  But the trumpet-blast had rung
out the call to arms, and men were flocking to that standard and to
this, and the flash and thunder of guns had begun.

But not there down to that sleepy, retired part of Devon.  There was the
castle built for defence, and existing now as Sir Granby Royland's happy
country home, surrounded by its great estate with many tenants, while
its heir was stretched out there in the sunshine upon his chest, kicking
up his heels, and thinking at that moment that it would not be a bad
amusement to bring up a very long line with a plummet at the end, to
bait it, and then swing it to and fro till he could drop it right out
where the great pike lay, ten or a dozen feet from the drawbridge.

"I will some day," said the boy, half aloud; "but it's too much trouble
now."

He swung himself round and lay there, looking back over the top of the
spacious building, on whose roof he was, right across the now floral old
court-yard, and between the two angle towers, to the wide-spreading
acres of the farms and woodlands which formed his father's estate.

The jackdaws flew about, and began to settle at the corners as he lay so
still and languidly said to himself--

"Need to lie still; it wouldn't do to slip over backward.  I shouldn't
even go into the moat, for I should come down on those stones."

"Stupid to be in dangerous places," he said to himself directly after,
and, rolling over, he let himself down upon the broad seat-like place,
where he could lie and watch the prospect just as well.

"Rather stupid of me not to come up here oftener," he thought.  "It's a
capital place.  I will ask father to let me have all this old empty
tower to myself.  What's that?  A fight?"

For there was a sudden rush upward of jackdaws from where they had
blackened the farthest corner tower to the left, and, looking in that
direction as he lay, he saw the reason of the sudden whirr of wings and
outburst of sharp, harsh cries, for there upon the leads, and holding on
by the little turret which covered the door-way of the spiral staircase,
stood Master Pawson.

"Feels like I do, I suppose," thought Roy, as the secretary cast his
eyes round the old building, particularly watchful of the pleasaunce,
but keeping right back by the outer crenelles as if not wishing to be
seen.

At first Roy felt that the secretary saw him, and as his eyes roved on
and he made no sign, the boy's hand went to his pocket in search of his
handkerchief to wave to him.  He did not withdraw it, but lay lazily
watching while the secretary now turned his back and stood gazing right
away.

"Never saw him do anything of that kind before," thought Roy.  "What's
he looking after?  I shouldn't have thought he had ever been up there in
his life."

Roy lay quite still, with his eyes half closed, and all at once the
secretary drew out his white laced handkerchief, wiped his forehead
three times with a good deal of flourish, and returned it, after which
he slowly stepped into the turret opening and backed out of sight.

"Mind you don't slip," said Roy, tauntingly, but quite conscious of the
fact that his words could not be heard.  "Why, he has gone down like a
bear--backward.  I could run down those stairs as fast as I came up."

Perhaps it was the warm sunshine, perhaps it was from laziness, but,
whatever the cause, Roy Royland went off fast asleep, and remained so
for quite a couple of hours, when, starting up wonderingly, and not
quite conscious of the reason why he was there, he looked about him, and
finally over the great parapet, to see the secretary beyond the farther
end of the drawbridge, talking in a very benign way to the old porter,
who stood with bent head listening to his words.

"Why, it seems only a few moments ago that I saw him on the leads over
his chamber staring out across country, and he must have been down
since, and had a walk.--How time does go when you're snoozing," thought
Roy, "and how stupid it is to go to sleep in the daytime!  I won't do it
again."



CHAPTER FOUR.

THE USE OF A SWORD.

Several days passed away, but Lady Royland always put off sending in
search of news, and seemed to be more cheerful, so that Roy soon forgot
his anxiety in the many things he had to think about,--amusements,
studies, and the like.  But he had a few words with his father's old
follower on the subject of the absence of news, one day, when Ben was
busy, as usual, in the armoury.

"Not heard lately from the master, sir?  Pish, that's nothing; soldiers
have got their swords and pistols to think about, not their pens.  Best
soldiers I ever knew couldn't write at all.  Enough for them to do to
fight.  You'll hear from him some day, and when you do, you'll know as
he has been pretty busy putting the people straight,--more straight than
some on 'em'll like to be, I know.  Sarve 'em right; nobody's a right to
fight agen the king.--Looks right, don't it?"

He held up an old sword which he had rubbed and polished till it flashed
in the light.

"Splendid!" said Roy.  "Is it sharp?"

"Sharp enough to take your head off at one sweep."

"Nonsense!" said the boy, laughing.

"Oh, it's true enough, Master Roy.  Here, you stand all quite stiff and
straight, and I'll show you."

"No, thank you, Ben.  Suppose I try it on you."

"There you are, then," said the man; "but I must have one, too, for a
guard."

He handed the boy the sword, and took up another waiting to be cleaned
from galling rust, and, throwing himself on guard, he cried--

"Now then, cut!"

"No; too dangerous," said Roy.

"Not a bit, my lad, because you couldn't touch me."

"I could," said Roy, "where I liked."

"Try, then."

"Not with this sharp sword."

"Very well, then, take one of those; they've no more edge than a wooden
one.  It's time you did know how to use a sword, sir."

Ben exchanged his glittering blade, too, and once more stood on guard.

"I won't bother you now about how you ought to stand, sir," he said;
"that'll come when I begin to give you some lessons.  You go just as you
like, and hit where you can."

"No, no," said the boy.  "I don't want to hurt you, Ben."

"Won't hurt me, sir; more likely to hurt yourself.  But do you know
you're standing just as badly as you possibly could? and if I was your
enemy, I could take off your head, either of your ears, or your legs, as
easily as look at you."

Roy laughed, but he did not seem to believe the old soldier's assertion,
and, giving his blunt sword a whirl through the air, he cried--

"Now, then, Ben; which leg shall I cut off?"

"Which you like, sir."

Roy made a feint at the right leg, and, quickly changing the direction
of his weapon, struck with it softly at the old soldier's left.

"Tchah!" cried the old man, as blade met blade, his sword, in the most
effortless way, being edge outward exactly where Roy struck.  "Why, do
you know, sir, if I'd been in arnest with you, that you would have been
spitted like a cockchafer on a pin before you got your blade round to
cut?"

"Not I," said the boy, contemptuously.

"Very well, sir; you'll see.  Now, try again, and cut hard.  Don't let
your blade stop to get a bit of hay and a drop of water on the way, but
give it me quick."

"But I don't want to hurt you, Ben."

"Well, I don't, either; and, what's more, I don't mean to let you."

"But I shall, I'm sure, if I strike hard."

"You think so, my lad; but do you know what a good sword is?"

"A sword."

"Yes, and a lot more.  When a man can use it properly, it's a shield,
and a breastplate, helmet, brasses, and everything else.  Now, I'll just
show you.  Helmet, say.  Now, you cut straight down at my head, just as
if you were going to cut me in two pieces."

"Put on one of the old helmets, then."

"Tchah!  I don't want any helmets.  You cut."

"And suppose I hurt you?"

"S'pose you can't."

"Well, I don't want to," said Roy; "so look out."

"Right, sir; chop away."

Roy raised his sword slowly, and the old soldier dropped the point of
his and began to laugh.

"That won't do, my lad; lift your blade as if you were going to bring it
down again, not as if you meant to hang it up for an ornament on a peg."

"Oh, very well," said Roy.  "Now, then, I'm going to cut at you sharp."

"Oh, are you, sir?" said Ben.  "Now, if ever you're a soldier, and meet
a man who means to kill you, shall you tell him you're going to cut at
him sharply? because, if you do, you'll have his blade through you
before you've half said it."

"You are precious fond of your banter," cried Roy, who was a little put
out now.  "Serve you right if I do hurt you.  But this blade won't cut,
will it?"

"Cut through the air if you move it sharp; that's about all, my lad."

"Then take that," cried the boy.

_Clang_--_cling_--_clatter_!

Roy stared, for his sword had come in contact with that of the old
soldier, and then was twisted out of his grasp and went rattling along
the floor, Ben going after it to fetch it back.

"Try again, sir."

Roy was on his mettle now, and, grasping the hilt more firmly, he
essayed to deliver a few blows at his opponent's legs, sides, and arms.
But Ben's sword was always there first, and held at such an angle that
his weapon glided off violently, as if from his own strength in
delivering the blow; and, try hard as he could, he could not get near
enough to make one touch.

"Arms and head, my lad; sharp."

Better satisfied now that he would not hurt his adversary, Roy struck
down at the near shoulder, but his sword glanced away.  Then at the
head, the legs, everywhere that seemed to offer for a blow, but always
for his blade to glance off with a harsh grating sound.

"There, it's of no use; you can't get near me, my lad," said Ben, at
last.

"Oh, yes, I can.  I was afraid of hurting you.  I shall hit hard as
hard," cried Roy, who felt nettled.  "But I don't want to hurt you.
Let's have sticks."

"I'll get sticks directly, sir.  You hit me first with the sword."

"Oh, very well; if you will have it, you shall," cried Roy, and, without
giving any warning now, he delivered a horizontal blow at the old
soldier's side; but it was turned off just as the dozen or so which
followed were thrown aside, and then, with a quiet laugh, the old fellow
said--

"Now, every time you hit at me, I could have run you through."

"No, you couldn't," said Roy, sharply.

"Well, we'll see, sir.  Put that down, and use this; or, no, keep your
sword; the hilt will protect your hand in case I come down upon it."

He took up a stout ash stick and threw himself on guard again, waiting
for Roy's blow, which he turned off, but before the next could descend,
the boy's aim was disordered by a sharp dig in the chest from the end of
the ash stick; and so it was as he went on: before he could strike he
always received a prod in the chest, ribs, arms, or shoulders.

"Oh, I say, Ben," he cried at last; "I didn't know you could use a stick
like that."

"Suppose not, my lad; but I knew you couldn't use a sword like that.
Now, I tell you what: you'd better come to me for an hour every morning
before breakfast, and I'll begin to make such a man of you as your
father would like to see when he comes back."

"Well, I will come, Ben," said the lad; "but my arm does not ache so
much now, and I don't feel quite beaten.  Let's have another try."

"Oh, I'll try all day with you, if you like, sir," said the old soldier;
"only, suppose now you stand on guard and let me attack."

"With swords?" said Roy, blankly.

"No, no," said Ben, laughing; "I don't want to hurt you.  We'll keep to
sticks.  Better still: I want you to get used to handling a sword, so
I'll have the stick and you shall defend yourself with a blade."

"But that wouldn't be fair to you," cried Roy.  "I might hurt you, while
you couldn't hurt me."

"Couldn't I?" said the old fellow, drily.  "I'm afraid I could, and more
than you could me.  Now, then, take that blade."

He took one from the wall, a handsome-looking sword, upon which the
armourer who made it had bestowed a good deal of ingenious labour,
carving the sides, and ornamenting the hilt with a couple of beautifully
fluted representations in steel of the scallop shell, so placed that
they formed as complete a protection to the hand of the user as that
provided in the basket-hilted Scottish claymore.

"Find that too heavy for you, sir?"

"It is heavy," said Roy; "but one seems to be able to handle it easily."

"Yes, sir; you'll find that will move lightly.  You see it's so well
balanced by the hilt being made heavy.  The blade comes up lightly, and,
with a fair chance, I believe I could cut a man in two with it after a
few touches on a grindstone."

"Ugh!" ejaculated Roy; "horrid!"

"Oh, I don't know, sir.  Much more horrid if he cut you in two.  It's of
no use to be thin-skinned over fighting in earnest.  Man's got to defend
himself.  Now, then, let's give you a word or two of advice to begin
with.  A good swordsman makes his blade move so sharply that you can
hardly see it go through the air.  You must make it fly about like
lightning.  Now then, ready?"

"Yes; but you won't mind if I hurt you?"

"Don't you be afraid of doing that, sir.  If you hurt me, it'll serve me
right for being such a bungler.  _En garde_!"

Roy threw himself into position, and the old soldier attacked him very
slowly, cutting at his neck on either side, then down straight at his
head, next at his arms and legs; and in every case, though in a bungling
way, Roy interposed his blade after the fashion shown by his adversary.

Then the old fellow drew back and rested the point of his ash stick upon
his toe, while Roy panted a little, and smiled with satisfaction.

"Come," he said; "I wasn't so bad there."

"Oh, no, you weren't so bad there, because you showed that you'd got
some idea of what a sword's for; but when you're ready we'll begin
again.  May as well have something to think about till to-morrow
morning.  First man you fight with won't stop to ask whether you're
ready, you know."

"I suppose not; but wait a minute."

"Hour, if you like, sir; but your arms'll soon get hard.  Seems a pity,
though, that they're not harder now.  I often asked the master to let me
teach you how to use a sword."

"Yes, I know; but my mother always objected.  She doesn't like swords.
I do."

"Of course you do, sir.  It's a lad's nature to like one.  Ready?"

"Yes," cried Roy, standing on his guard; "but look out this time, Ben,
because I mean you to have something."

"That's right, sir; but mind this: I'm not going to let my stick travel
like a snail after a cabbage-leaf this time.  I'm going to cut as I
should with a sword, only I'm going to hit as if you were made of glass,
so as not to break you.  Now!"

The old soldier's eyes flashed as he threw one foot forward, Roy doing
the same; but it was his newly polished sword that flashed as he
prepared to guard the cuts, taking care, or meaning to take care, to
hold his blade at such an angle that the stick would glance off.  The
encounter ended in a few seconds.  _Whizz, whirr, pat, pat, pat_, and
the elastic ash sapling came down smartly upon the boy's arms, legs,
sides, shoulders, and finished off with a rap on the head, with the
result that Roy angrily threw the sword jangling upon the floor, and
stood rubbing his arms and sides viciously.

"You said you were going to hit at me as if I were made of glass," cried
the boy.

"So I did.  Don't mean to say those taps hurt you?"

"Hurt?  They sting horribly."

"Why, those cuts would hardly have killed flies, sir.  But why didn't
you guard?"

"Guard?  I did guard," cried Roy, angrily, as he rubbed away; "but you
were so quick."

"Oh, I can cut quicker than that, sir.  You see I got in before you did
every time.  I'd cut, and was on my way to give another before you were
ready for the first.  Come, they don't tingle now, do they?"

"Tingle?  Yes.  Here, I want a stick.  I'm not going to leave off
without showing you how it does hurt."

"Better leave off now, sir," said the man, grinning.

"But I don't want to," cried Roy; and picking up the sword which he had
handled with a feeling of pride, he took the other stick, and, crying
"Ready!" attacked in his turn, striking hard and as swiftly as he could,
but _crack, crack, crack_, wherever he struck, there was the defensive
sapling; and at last, with his arm and shoulder aching, the boy lowered
his point and stood panting, with his brow moist with beads of
perspiration.

"Well done!" cried Ben.  "Now that's something like a first lesson.
Why, those last were twice as good as any you gave before."

"Yes," said Roy, proudly; "I thought I could make you feel.  Some of
those went home."

"Not one of them, my lad," said Ben, smiling; "you didn't touch me
once."

"Not once?"

"No, sir; not once."

"Is that the truth, Ben?"

"Every word of it, sir.  But never you mind that; you did fine; and if
you'll come to me every morning, I'll make you so that in three months I
shall have to look out for myself."

"I don't seem to have done any good at all," said Roy, pettishly.

"Not done no good, sir?  Why, you've done wonders; you've taken all the
conceit out of yourself, and learned in one lesson that you don't know
anything whatever about a sword, except that it has a blade and a hilt
and a scabbard.  And all the time you'd been thinking that all you had
to do was to chop and stab with it as easy as could be, and that there
was nothing more to learn.  Now didn't you?"

"Something like it," said Roy, who was now cooling down; "but, of
course, I knew that you had to parry."

"But you didn't know how to, my lad; and look here, you haven't tried to
thrust yet.  Here, give me a sharp one now."

"No, I can't do any more," said Roy, sulkily.  "I don't know how."

"That's a true word, sir; but you're going to try?"

"No, I'm not," said Roy, whom a sharp sting in one leg from the worst
cut made a little vicious again.

"Come, come, come," said the old soldier, reproachfully.  "That aren't
like my master's son talking; that's like a foolish boy without anything
in his head."

"Look here, Ben; don't you be insolent."

"Not I, Master Roy.  I wouldn't be to you.  Only I speak out because I'm
proud of you, my lad, and I want to see you grow up into a man like your
father.  I tried hard not to hurt you, sir, but I suppose I did.  But I
can't say I'm sorry."

"Then you ought to be, for you cut at me like a brute."

The old soldier shook his head sadly.

"You don't mean that, Master Roy," he said; "and it's only because
you're tingling a bit; that's all."

The man's words disarmed Roy, and the angry frown passed away, as he
said, frankly--

"No, I don't mean it now, Ben.  The places don't tingle so; but I say,
there'll be black marks wherever you cut at me."

"Never mind, sir; they'll soon come white again, and you'll know next
time that you've got to have your weapon ready to save yourself.  Well,
I dunno.  I meant it right, but you've had enough of it.  Some day Sir
Granby'll let you go to a big fencing-master as never faced a bit o'
steel drawn in anger in his life, and he'll put you on leather pads and
things, and tap you soft like, and show you how to bow, s'loot, and cut
capers like a Frenchman, and when he's done with you I could cut you up
into mincemeat without you being able to give me a scratch."

"Get out!" cried Roy.  "You don't think anything of the sort.  What time
shall I come to-morrow morning--six?"

"No, sir, no.  Bed's very nice at six o'clock in the morning.  You stop
there, and then you won't be hurt."

"Five, then?" said Roy, sharply.

"Nay, sir; you wait for the big fencing-master."

"Five o'clock, I said," cried Roy.

The old soldier took the sword Roy had held, and fetching a piece of
leather from a drawer began to polish off the finger-marks left upon the
steel.

"I said five o'clock, Ben," cried the boy, very decisively.

"Nay, Master Roy, you give it up, sir.  I'm too rough an old chap for
you."

"Sorry I was so disagreeable, Ben," said the boy, offering his hand.

"Mean it, sir?"

"Why, of course, Ben."

The hand was eagerly seized, and, it being understood that the sword
practice was to begin punctually at six next morning, they separated.



CHAPTER FIVE.

ROY TAKES HIS NEXT LESSON.

The clock in the little turret which stood out over the gate-way facing
Lady Royland's garden had not done striking six when Roy entered the
armoury next morning, to find Ben hard at work fitting the interior of a
light helmet with a small leather cap which was apparently well stuffed
with wool.

"Morning, Ben," said the boy.  "What's that for?"

"You, sir."

"To wear?"

"Of course.  Just as well to take care of your face and head when you're
handling swords.  You can use it with the visor up or down, 'cording to
what we're doing.  You see, I want to learn you how to use a sword like
a soldier, and not like a gentleman who never expects to see trouble."

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir, quite; and first thing 's morning we'll begin where we left
off, and you shall try to learn that you don't know how to thrust.
Nothing like finding out how bad you are.  Then you can begin to see
better what you have to learn."

"Very well," said Roy, eagerly.  "You'll have to look out now then, Ben,
for I mean to learn, and pretty quickly."

"Oh, yes; you'll learn quickly enough," said Ben, placing the helmet
upon the table and taking the pair of sticks up from where he had placed
them.  "But say, Master Roy, I have been working here.  Don't you think
the place looks better?"

"I think my father would be proud of the armoury if he could see the
weapons," said Roy, as he looked round.  "Everything is splendid."

The old soldier smiled as he walked from suit to suit of armour, some of
which were obsolete, and could only be looked upon as curiosities of the
day; but, in addition, there were modern pieces of defensive armour,
beautifully made, with carefully cleaned and inlaid headpieces of the
newest kind, and of those the old soldier seemed to be especially proud.
Then he led the way on to the stands of offensive weapons, which
numbered quaint, massive swords of great age, battle-axes, and maces,
and so on to modern weapons of the finest steel, with, guns, petronels,
and horse-pistols of clumsy construction, but considered perfect then.

"Yes, sir, I'm proud of our weepuns," said Ben; "but I aren't a bit
proud of the old castle, which seems to be going right away to ruin."

"That it isn't," cried Roy, indignantly.  "It has been repaired and
repaired, whenever it wanted doing up, again and again."

"Ah! you're thinking about roofs and tiles and plaster, my lad.  I was
thinking about the defences.  Such a place as this used to be.  Look at
the gun-carriages,--haven't been painted for years, nor the guns
cleaned."

"Well, mix up some paint and brush it on," said Roy, "and clean up the
guns.  They can't be rusty, because they're brass."

"Well, not brass exactly, sir," said the man, thoughtfully.  "It's more
of a mixtur' like; but to a man like me, sir, it's heart-breaking."

"What! to see them turn green and like bronze?"

"Oh, I don't mind that so much, sir; it's seeing of 'em come down so
much, like.  Why, there's them there big guns as stands in the
court-yard behind the breastwork."

"Garden, Ben."

"Well, garden, sir.  Why, there's actooally ivy and other 'nockshus
weeds growing all over 'em."

"Well, it looks peaceful and nice."

"Bah!  A gun can't look peaceful and nice.  But that aren't the worst of
it, sir.  I was along by 'em a bit ago, and, if you'll believe me, when
I put my hand in one, if there warn't a sharp, hissing noise!"

"A snake?  Got in there?"

"Snake, sir?  No!  I wouldn't ha' minded a snake; but there's no snakes
here."

"There was one, Ben, for I brought it up out of the woods, and kept it
in a box for months, till it got away.  Then that's where it is."

"Nay.  It were no snake, sir.  It were one of them little blue and
yaller tomtit chaps as lays such lots o' eggs.  I fetches a stick, and I
was going to shove it in and twist it in the hay and stuff o' the nest
and draw it out."

"But you didn't?"

"No, sir, I didn't; for I says to myself, if Sir Granby and her ladyship
like the place to go to ruin, they may let it; and if the two little
birds--there was a cock and hen--didn't bring up twelve of the rummiest
little, tiny young uns I ever did see.  There they was, all a-sitting in
a row along the gun, and it seemed to me so comic for 'em to be there
that I bust out a-laughing quite loud."

"And they all flew away?"

"Nay, sir, they didn't; they stopped there a-twittering.  But if that
gun had been loaded, and I'd touched it off with a fire-stick, it would
have warmed their toes, eh?  But would you clean up the old guns?"

"I don't see why you shouldn't, Ben.  They're valuable."

"Vallerble?  I should think they are, sir.  And, do you know, I will;
for who knows what might happen?  They tell me down in the village that
there's trouble uppards, and people gets talking agen the king.  Ah!
I'd talk 'em if I had my way, and make some of 'em squirm.--Yes, I will
tidy things up a bit.  Startle some on 'em if we was to fire off a gun
or two over the village."

"They'd burst, Ben.  Haven't been fired for a hundred years, I should
say.  Those brass guns were made in Queen Elizabeth's time."

"Oh, they wouldn't burst, sir; I shouldn't be afraid of that.--But this
is not learning to thrust, is it?"

"No.  Come on," cried Roy, and he took one of the stout ash rods.
"Here, hadn't I better put on this helmet?"

"Not yet, sir.  You can practise thrusting without that.  Now then, here
I am, sir.  All ready for you on my guard.  Now, thrust."

Ben dropped into an easy position, with his legs a little bent, one foot
advanced, his left hand behind him, and his stick held diagonally across
his breast.

Roy imitated him, dropping into the same position.

"Where shall I stab you?" he cried.

"Just wherever you like, sir,--if you can."

The boy made a quick dart forward with his stick, and it passed by his
teacher, who parried with the slightest movement of his wrist.

"I said thrust, sir."

"Well, I did thrust."

"That wasn't a thrust, sir; that was only a poke.  It wouldn't have gone
through a man's coat, let alone his skin.  Now, again!"

The boy made another push forward with his stick, which was also
parried.

"Nay, that won't do, my lad; so let's get to something better.  Now, I'm
going to thrust at you right in the chest.  Enemies don't tell you where
they're going to hit you, but I'm going to tell you.  Now, look out!"

Roy prepared to guard the thrust, but the point of the old man's stick
struck him sharply in the chest, and he winced a little, but smiled.

"Now, sir, you do that, but harder."

Roy obeyed, but failed dismally.

"Of course," said Ben.  "Now that's because you didn't try the right
way, sir.  Don't poke at a man, but throw your arm right back till you
get your hand level with your shoulder, and sword and arm just in a
line.  Then thrust right out, and let your body follow your arm,--then
you get some strength into it.  Now, once more."

Roy followed his teacher's instructions.

"Better--ever so much, sir.  Now again--good; again--good.  You'll soon
do it.  Now, can't you see what a lot of weight you get into a thrust
like that?  One of your pokes would have done nothing.  One like that
last would have sent your blade through a man.  Now again."

Roy was now fully upon his mettle, and he tried hard to acquire some
portion of the old soldier's skill, till his arm ached, and Ben cried
"Halt!" and began to chat about the old-fashioned armour.

"Lots of it was too clumsy, sir.  Strong men were regularly loaded down;
and I've thought for a long time that all a man wants is a steel cap and
steel gloves.  All the rest he ought to be able to do with his sword."

"But you can't ward off bullets with a sword, Ben," said Roy.

"No, sir; nor you can't ward 'em off with armour.  They find out the
jyntes, if they don't go through."

"Would that suit of half-armour be much too big for me, Ben?" said Roy,
pausing before a bronzed ornamental set of defensive weapons, which had
evidently been the work of some Italian artist.

"No, sir, I shouldn't think it would.  You see that was made for a small
man, and you're a big lad.  If you were to put that on, and used a bit
o' stuffing here and there, you wouldn't be so much amiss.  It's in fine
condition, too, with its leather lining, and that's all as lissome and
good as when it was first made."

"I should like to try that on some day, Ben," said the boy, eagerly
examining the handsome suit.

"Well, I don't see why not, sir.  You'd look fine in that.  Wants three
or four white ostrich feathers in the little gilt holder of the helmet.
White uns would look well with that dark armour.  Looks just like
copper, don't it?"

"How long would it take to put it on?" said Roy.

"Hour, sir; and you'd want some high buff boots to wear with it."

"An hour?" said Roy.  "There wouldn't be time before breakfast."

"No, sir.  But I tell you what--I've only cleaned and polished and iled
the straps.  If you feels as if you'd like to put it on, I'll go over it
well, and see to the buckles and studs: shall I?"

"Yes, do, Ben."

"That I will, sir.  And I say, if, when you're ready, I was to saddle
one of the horses proper, and you was to mount and her ladyship see you,
she'd be sorry as ever she wanted you to be a statesman."

Roy shook his head dubiously.

"Oh, but she would, sir.  Man looks grand in his armour and feathers."

"But I'm only a boy," said Roy, sadly.

"Who's to know that when you're in armour and your visor down, sir?  A
suit of armour like that, and you on a grand horse, would make a man of
you.  It's fine, and no mistake."

"But you were sneering at armour a little while ago, Ben," said Roy.

"For fighting in, sir, but not for show.  You see, there's something
about armour and feathers and flags that gets hold of people, and a
soldier's a man who likes to look well.  I'm an old un now, but I
wouldn't say no to a good new uniform, with a bit o' colour in it; but
if you want me to fight, I don't want to be all plates and things like a
lobster, and not able to move.  I want to be free to use my arms.  Right
enough for show, sir, and make a regiment look handsome; but fighting's
like gardening,--want to take your coat off when you go to work."

"But you will get that armour ready, Ben?"

"Course I will, sir.  On'y too glad to see you take a liking to a bit o'
armour and a sword.  Now, then, what do you say to beginning again?"

"I'm ready," said Roy, but with a longing look at the armour.

"Then you shall just put that helmet on, and have the visor down.  You
won't be able to see so well, but it will save your face from an
accidental cut."

He placed the helmet on the boy's head, adjusted the cheek straps, and
drew back.

"Find it heavy, sir?"

"Rather!  Feels as if it would topple off as soon as I begin to move."

"But it won't, sir.  The leather cap inside will stop that.  Now, then,
if you please, we'll begin.  I'm going to cut at you slowly and softly,
and you've got to guard yourself, and then turn off.  I shall be very
slow, but after a bit I shall cut like lightning, and before I've done I
shan't be no more able to hit you than you're able now to hit me."

Roy said nothing, and the man began cutting at him to right and to left,
upward from the same direction and downward, as if bent upon cleaving
his shoulders; and for every cut Ben showed him how to make the proper
guard, holding his weapon so that the stroke should glance off, and
laying especial weight upon the necessity for catching the blow aimed
upon the _forte_ of the blade toward the hilt, and not upon the _faible_
near the point.

Then came the turn of the head, and the horizontal and down right cuts
were, after further instruction, received so that they, too, glanced
off.  Roy gaining more and more confidence at every stroke.  But that
helmet was an utter nuisance, and half buried the wearer.

"I'm beginning to think you're right, Ben, about the armour," said the
lad, at last.

"Yes, 'tis a bit awkward, sir; but you'll get used to it.  If you can
defend yourself well with that on, why, of course, you can without.
Now, then, suppose, for a change, you have a cut at me."

"Why, what tomfoolery is this?" said a highly-pitched voice; and Roy
tried to snatch off his helmet as he caught sight of the secretary
standing in the door-way looking on.

But the helmet would not come off easily, and, after a tug or two, Roy
was fain to turn to the old soldier.

"Here," he said, hastily, "unfasten this, Ben, quick!"

"Yes, sir; but I don't see as you've any call to be in such a hurry.
You've a right to learn to use a sword if you like.  Only the strap
fastened over this stud, and there you are."

Red-faced and annoyed, Roy faced the secretary, who had walked slowly
into the armoury, to stand looking about him with a sneer of contempt
upon his lip.

"Only practising a little sword-play, sir," said the boy, as soon as his
head was relieved.

"Sword-play!  Is there no other kind of play a boy like you can take to?
What do you want with sword-play?"

"My father's a soldier," said Roy.

"Yes; but you are not going to be a fighting man, sir; and, behindhand
as you are with your studies, I think you might try a little more to do
your instructor credit, and not waste time with one of the servants in
such a barbaric pursuit as this.  Lady Royland is waiting breakfast.
You had better come at once."

Feeling humbled and abashed before the old soldier, Roy followed the
secretary without a word, and they entered the breakfast-room together,
Lady Royland looking up pale and disturbed, and, upon seeing her son's
face, exclaiming--

"Why, Roy, how hot and tired you look!  Have you been running?"

The secretary laughed contemptuously.

"No, mother; practising fencing with Ben."

"Oh, Roy!" cried his mother, reproachfully; "what can you want with
fencing?  My dear boy, pray think more of your books."

Master Pawson gave the lad a peculiar look, and Roy felt as if he should
like to kick out under the table so viciously that the sneering smile
might give place to a contraction expressing pain.

But Roy did not speak, and the breakfast went on.



CHAPTER SIX.

BEN MARTLET FEELS RUSTY.

"Come to me in half an hour, Roy," said Master Pawson, as they rose from
the table, the boy hurrying away to the armoury to find Ben busy as
ever, and engaged now in seeing to the straps and fittings of the
Italian suit of bronzed steel.

"Thought I'd do it, sir," he said, "in case you ever asked for it; but I
s'pose it's all over with your learning to be a man now."

"Indeed it is not," said Roy, sharply.  "I'm sure my father would not
object to my learning fencing."

"Sword-play, sir."

"Very well--sword-play," said Roy, pettishly; "so long as I do not
neglect any studies I have to go through with Master Pawson."

"And I s'pose you've been a-neglecting of 'em, sir, eh?" said the old
man, drily.

"That I've not.  Perhaps I have not got on so well as I ought, but
that's because I'm stupid, I suppose."

"Nay, nay, nay!  That won't do, Master Roy.  There's lots o' things I
can do as you can't; but that's because you've never learnt."

"Master Pawson's cross because I don't do what he wants."

"Why, what does he want you to do, sir?"

"Learn to play the big fiddle."

"What!" cried the man, indignantly.  "Then don't you do it, my lad."

"I don't mean to," said Roy; "and I don't want to hurt my mother's
feelings; and so I won't make a lot of show over learning sword-play
with you, but I shall go on with it, Ben, and you shall take the swords
or sticks down in the hollow in the wood, and I'll meet you there every
morning at six."

"Mean it, sir?"

"Yes, of course; and now I must be off.  I was to be with Master Pawson
in half an hour."

"Off you go, then, my lad.  Always keep to your time."

Roy ran off, and was going straight to Master Pawson's room in the
corner tower, but on the way he met Lady Royland, who took his arm and
walked with him out into the square garden.

"Why, mother, you've been crying," said the boy, tenderly.

"Can you see that, my dear?"

"Yes; what is the matter?  I know, though.  You're fretting about not
hearing from father."

"Well, is it not enough to make me fret, my boy?" she said,
reproachfully.

"Of course!  And I'm so thoughtless."

"Yes, Roy," said Lady Royland, with a sad smile; "I am afraid you are."

"I try not to be, mother; I do indeed," cried Roy; "but tell me--is
there anything fresh?  Yes; you've had some bad news!  Then you've heard
from father."

"No, my boy, no; the bad news comes through Master Pawson.  He has heard
again from his friends in London."

"Look here, mother," cried the boy, hotly, "I want to know why he should
get letters easily, and we get none."

Lady Royland sighed.

"Father must be too busy to write."

"I am afraid so, my dear."

"But what is the bad news he has told you this morning?"

They were close up to the foot of the corner tower as Roy asked this
question; and, as Lady Royland replied, a few notes of some air being
played upon the violoncello high up came floating down to their ears.

"He tells me that there is no doubt about a terrible revolution having
broken out, my boy; that the Parliament is raising an army to fight
against the king, and that his friends feel sure that his majesty's
cause is lost."

"Then he doesn't know anything about it, mother," cried the boy,
indignantly.  "The king has too many brave officers like father who will
fight for him, and take care that his cause is not lost.  Oh, I say,
hark to that!"

"That" was another strain floating down to them.

"Yes," said Lady Royland, sadly; "it is Master Pawson playing.  He is
waiting for you, Roy."

"Yes, playing," said the boy, hotly.  "It makes me think of what I read
with him one day about that Roman emperor--what was his name?--playing
while Rome was burning.  But don't you fret, mother; London won't be
burnt while father's there."

"You do not realise what it may mean, my boy."

"Oh, yes, I think I do, mother; but you don't think fairly.  You are too
anxious.  But there!  I must go up to him now."

"Yes, go, my boy; and you will not cause me any more anxiety than you
can help?"

"Why, of course I won't, mother.  But if it is going to be a war, don't
you think I ought to learn all I can about being a soldier?"

"Roy!  No, no!" cried Lady Royland, wildly.  "Do I not suffer enough on
your father's account?"

"There, I won't say any more, mother dear," said Roy, clinging to her
arm; "and now I'll confess something."

"You have something to confess?" said Lady Royland, excitedly, as she
stopped where they were, just beneath the corner tower, and quite
unconscious of the fact that a head was cautiously thrust out of one of
the upper windows and then drawn back, so that only the tip of an ear
and a few curls were left visible.  "Then, tell me quickly, Roy; you
have been keeping back some news."

"No, no, mother, not a bit; just as if I would when I know how anxious
you are!  It was only this.  Old Ben is always grumbling about the place
going to ruin, as he calls it, and I told him, to please him, that he
might clean up some of the big guns."

"But you should not have done this, my dear."

"No; I'll tell him not to, mother.  And I'd made an arrangement with him
to meet him every morning out in the primrose dell to practise
sword-cutting.  I was going to-morrow morning, but I won't go now."

Lady Royland pressed her lips to the boy's forehead, and smiled in his
face.

"Thank you, my dear," she said, softly.  "Recollect you are everything
to me now!  And I want your help and comfort now I am so terribly alone.
Master Pawson is profuse in his offers of assistance to relieve me of
the management here, but I want that assistance to come from my son."

"Of course!" said Roy, haughtily.  "He's only the secretary, and if any
one is to take father's place, it ought to be me."

"Yes; and you shall, Roy, my dear.  You are very young, but now this
trouble has come upon us, you must try to be a man and my counsellor so
that when your father returns--"

She ceased speaking, and Roy pressed her hands encouragingly as he saw
her lips trembling and that she had turned ghastly white.

"When your father returns," she said, now firmly, "we must let him see
that we have managed everything well."

"Then why not, as it's war time, let Ben do what he wanted, and we'll
put the place in a regular state of defence?"

"No, no, no, my dear," said Lady Royland, with a shudder.  "Why should
you give our peaceful happy home even the faintest semblance of war,
when it can by no possibility come into this calm, quiet, retired nook.
No, my boy, not that, please."

"Very well, mother.  Then I'll go riding round to see the tenants, and
look after the things at home just as you wish me to.  Will that do?"

Lady Royland smiled, and then pressed her son's arm.

"Go up now, then, to Master Pawson's room," she said; "and recollect
that one of the things I wish you to do is to be more studious than you
would be if your father were at home."

Roy nodded and hurried up into the corridor, thinking to himself that
Master Pawson would not like his being so much in his mother's
confidence.

"Then he'll have to dislike it.  He has been a bit too forward lately,
speaking to the servants as if he were master here.  I heard him quite
bully poor old Jenk one day.  But, of course, I don't want to quarrel
with him."

Roy ascended the staircase and entered the room, to find the secretary
bending over a big volume in the Greek character; and, as he looked up
smiling, the boy felt that his tutor was about the least
quarrelsome-looking personage he had ever seen.

"Rather a long half-hour, Roy, is it not?" he said.

"Yes, sir; I'm very sorry.  My mother met me as I was coming across the
garden, and talked to me, and I could not leave her in such trouble."

"Trouble?  Trouble?" said the secretary, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course, sir, about the bad news you told her this morning."

"Indeed!  And did Lady Royland confide in you?"

"Why, of course!" said Roy, quickly.

"Oh, yes,--of course!  Her ladyship would do what is for the best.
Well, let us to our reading.  We have lost half an hour, and I am going
to make it a little shorter this morning, for I thought of going across
as far as the vicarage."

"To see Master Meldew, sir?"

"Yes; of course.  He has not been here lately.  Now, then, where we left
off,--it was about the Punic War, was it not?"

"Yes, sir; but don't let's have anything about war this morning."

"Very well," said the secretary; "let it be something about peace."

It was something about peace, but what Roy did not know half an hour
later, for his head was in a whirl, and his reading became quite
mechanical.  For there was the trouble his mother was in, her wishes as
to his conduct, and his secret interview with Ben, to keep on buzzing in
his brain, so that it was with a sigh of relief that he heard the
secretary's command to close his book, and he gazed at him wonderingly,
asking himself whether the words were sarcastic, for Master Pawson
said--

"I compliment you, Roy; you have done remarkably well, and been very
attentive this morning.  By the way, if her ladyship makes any remark
about my absence, you can say that you expect Master Meldew has asked me
to stay and partake of dinner with him."

"Yes, sir."

"Not unless she asks," continued the secretary.  "In all probability she
will not notice my absence."

Roy descended with his books; then felt that he should like to be alone
and think, and to this end he made his way to the gloomy old guard-room
on the right of the great gate-way, ran up the winding stair, and soon
reached the roof, where he lay down on the breastwork over the
machicolations, and had not been there long before he heard steps, and,
looking over, saw Master Pawson cross the drawbridge and go out of the
farther gate-way, watching him unseen till he turned off by the pathway
leading through the village and entering the main road.

Then it occurred to Roy that, as he had an unpleasant communication to
make, he could not do better than get it over at once.  So he descended,
and began to search for the old soldier; but it was some time before he
could find him out.

Yet it seemed to be quite soon enough, for the old fellow looked very
grim and sour as he listened to the communication.

"Very well, Master Roy," he said; "the mistress is master now, and it's
your dooty to obey her; but it do seem like playing at fast and loose
with a man.  There, I've got no more to say,--only that I was beginning
to feel a bit bright and chirpy; but now I'm all going back'ard again,
and feel as rusty as everything else about the place."

"I'm very sorry, Ben, for I really did want to learn," said Roy,
apologetically.

"Yes, sir, I s'pose you did; and this here's a world o' trouble, and the
longer you lives in it the more you finds out as you can't do what you
like, so you grins and bears it; but the grinning's about the hardest
part o' the job.  You're 'bliged to bear it, but you aren't 'bliged to
grin; and, when the grins do come, you never has a looking-glass afore
you, but you allus feels as if you never looked so ugly afore in your
life."

"But you'll have to help me in other things, Ben."

"Shall I, sir?  Don't seem to me as there's anything else as I can help
you over."

"Oh, but there is,--while the war keeps my father away."

"War, sir?  Nonsense!  You don't call a bit of a riot got up by some
ragged Jacks war."

"No; but this is getting to be a very serious affair, according to what
Master Pawson told my mother this morning."

"Master Pawson, sir!  Why, what does he know about it?"

"A good deal, it seems.  Some friends of his in London send him news,
and they said it is going to be a terrible civil war."

"And me not up there with Sir Granby!" groaned the man.  "Oh, dear! oh,
dear! it's a wicked, rusty old world!"

"But I've promised to help my mother all I can, Ben, and you must
promise to help me."

"Of course, sir; that you know.  But say, sir, war breaking out, and we
all rusted up like this!  We ought to be ready for anything."

"So I thought, Ben; but my mother says there's not likely to be trouble
in this out-of-the-way place."

"Then bless my dear lady's innocence! says Ben Martlet, and that's me,
sir.  Why, you never knows where a spark may drop and the fire begin to
run."

"No, Ben."

"And if this is sure to be such a peaceful spot, why did the old
Roylands build the castle and make a moat and drawbridge, and all the
rest of it?  They didn't mean the moat for nothing else, sir, but carp,
tench, and eels."

"And pike, Ben."

"No, sir.  They thought of very different kind of pikes, sir, I can tell
you,--same as they I've got on the walls yonder in sheaves.  But there;
her ladyship gives the word to you, and you gives it to me, and I
shouldn't be worth calling a soldier if I didn't do as I was ordered,
and directly, too, and--Hark!"

The old soldier held up his hand.

"Horses!" cried Roy, excitedly.  "Why, who's coming here?"



CHAPTER SEVEN.

NEWS FROM THE WAR.

Roy and the old soldier hurried to a slit which gave on the road, and
the latter began to breathe hard with excitement as his eyes rested upon
three dusty-looking horsemen, well-mounted, and from whose round-topped,
spiked steel caps the sun flashed from time to time.

"Why, they're dragoons!" cried the old fellow, excitedly.  "Enemies,
perhaps, and we're without a drawbridge as'll pull up.  Here, quick,
take a sword, Master Roy.  Here's mine.  Let's make a show.  They won't
know but what there's dozens of us."

Roy followed the old soldier's commands, and, buckling on the sword,
hurried with him down to the outer gate, just as the venerable old
retainer slammed it to with a heavy, jarring sound, and challenged the
horsemen, whom he could hardly see, to halt.

"Well done, old man!" muttered Ben.  "The right stuff, Master Roy,
though he is ninety-four."

"What is it?" cried Roy, as he reached the gate, where the men were
dismounting and patting their weary troop-horses.

"Despatches for Lady Royland," said one, who seemed to be the leader.
"Are you Master Roy, Sir Granby's son?"

"Yes.  Have you come from my father?"

"Yes, sir, and made all the haste we could; but we've left two brave
lads on the road."

"What! their horses broke down?"

"No, sir," said the man, significantly; "but they did."

He took off his cap as he spoke, and displayed a bandage round his
forehead.

"My mate there's got his shoulder ploughed, too, by a bullet."

"Open the gates, Jenks," cried Roy.

"One moment, sir," whispered Ben.  "Get the despatches and see if
they're in your father's writing."

"Right," whispered back Roy.  "Here!--your despatches."

"No, sir," said the man, firmly.  "That's what they asked who barred the
way.  Sir Granby's orders were to place 'em in his lady's hands."

"Quite right," said Roy.  "But show them to me and let me see my
father's hand and seal."

"Yes, that's right enough, sir," said the man.  "We might be enemies;"
and he unstrapped a wallet slung from his right shoulder, took out a
great letter tied with silk and sealed, and held it out, first on one
side, then upon the other, for the boy to see.

"Yes," cried Roy, eagerly, "that's my father's writing, and it is his
seal.  Open the gate, Jenkin, and let them in.  Why, my lads, you look
worn-out."

"Not quite, sir; but we've had a rough time of it.  The country's full
of crop-ears, and we've had our work cut out to get here safe."

"Full of what?" said Roy, staring, as the troopers led in their horses,
and he walked beside the man who bore the despatches.

"Crop-ears, sir,--Parliamentary men."

"Is it so bad as that?"

"Bad?  Yes, sir."

"But my father--how is he?"

"Well and hearty when he sent us off, sir."

"Come quickly then," cried Roy, hurrying the men along to the great
drawbridge, over which the horses' hoofs began to rattle loudly.  But
they had not gone half-way across the moat before there was the rustle
of a dress in front, and, looking ghastly pale and her eyes wild with
excitement, Lady Royland came hurrying to meet them.

Roy sprang to her, crying--

"Letters from father, and he is quite well!"

He caught his mother in his arms, for her eyes closed and she reeled and
would have fallen; but the next minute she had recovered her composure,
and held out her hand for the packet the trooper had taken from his
wallet.

"Thank you," she said, smiling.  "Martlet, take these poor tired fellows
into the hall at once, and see that they have every attention.  Set some
one to feed their horses."

"Thank you, my lady," said the man, with rough courtesy, as he took off
his steel cap.

"Ah, you are wounded," cried Lady Royland, with a look of horror.

"Only a scratch, my lady.  My comrade here is worse than I."

"Your wounds shall be seen to at once."

"If I might speak, my lady, a place to sit down for an hour or two, and
something to eat and drink, would do us more good than a doctor.  We
haven't had a good meal since we rode away from Whitehall and along the
western road a week ago."

"Eight days and a harf, comrad'," growled one of his companions.

"Is it?  Well, I haven't kept count."

"See to them at once, Martlet," said Lady Royland; and the horses were
led off, while, clinging to her son's arm, the anxious wife and mother
hurried into the library, threw herself into a chair, tore open the
great letter, and began, wild-eyed and excited, to read, while Roy
walked up and down the room with his eyes fixed longingly upon the
despatch till he could bear it no longer.

"Oh, mother!" he cried, "do, do, do pray give me a little bit of the
news."

"My poor boy! yes.  How selfish of me.  Roy, dear, there is something
terribly wrong!  Your dear father says he has been half-mad with
anxiety, for he has sent letter after letter, and has had no news from
us.  So at last he determined to send his own messengers, and despatched
five men to guard this letter to us--but I saw only three."

"No," said Roy, solemnly; "the roads are in the hands of the enemy,
mother, and two of the poor fellows were killed on the way.  Two of
these three are wounded."

"Yes, yes!  Horrible!  I could not have thought matters were so bad as
this."

"But father is quite well?"

"Yes, yes, my dear; but he says the king's state is getting desperate,
and that he will have to take the field at once.  But the letters I
sent--that he sent, my boy?"

"They must have all fallen into the enemy's hands, mother.  How bad
everything must be!  But pray, pray, go on.  What does he say?"

Lady Royland read on in silence for a few moments, and, as she read, the
pallor in her face gave way to a warm flush of excitement, while Roy, in
spite of his eagerness to hear more, could not help wondering at the
firmness and decision his mother displayed, an aspect which was
supported by her words as she turned to her son.

"Roy," she cried, "I was obliged to read first, but you shall know
everything.  While we have been here in peace, it seems that a terrible
revolution has broken out, and your father says that it will only be by
desperate efforts on the part of his friends that the king's position
can be preserved.  He says that these efforts will be made, and that the
king shall be saved."

"Hurrah!" shouted the boy, wildly.  "God save the king!"

"God save the king!" murmured Lady Royland, softly, with her eyes
closed; and her words sounded like a prayerful echo of her son's
utterance.

There was a pause for a few moments, and then Lady Royland went on.

"Your father says that we lie right out of the track of the trouble
here, and that he prays that nothing may disturb us; but as the country
grows more unsettled with the war, evil men will arise everywhere, ready
to treat the laws of the country with contempt, and that it is our duty
in his absence to be prepared."

"Prepared!  Yes, mother," cried Roy, excitedly; and he flung himself
upon his knees, rested his elbows on his mother's lap, and seized her
hands.  "Go on, go on!"

"He says that you have grown a great fellow now, and that the time has
come for you to play the man, and fill his place in helping me in every
way possible."

"Father says that, mother?" cried the boy, flushing scarlet.

"Yes; and that he looks to you to be my counsellor, and, with the help
of his faithful old servant Martlet, to do everything you can to put the
place in a state of defence."

"Why, mother," said Roy, "old Ben will go mad with delight."

Lady Royland suppressed a sigh, and went on firmly.

"He bids me use my discretion to decide whom among the tenants and
people of the village I can--we can--trust, Roy, and to call upon them
to be ready, in case of an emergency, to come in here and help to
protect the place and their own belongings; but to be very careful whom
I do trust, for an enemy within the gates is a terrible danger."

"Yes, of course," cried Roy, whose head seemed once more in a whirl.

"He goes on to say that there may not be the slightest necessity for all
this, but the very fact of our being prepared will overawe people who
might be likely to prove disaffected, and will keep wandering bands of
marauders at a distance."

"Of course--yes; I see," cried Roy, eagerly.  "Yes, mother, I'll go to
work at once."

"You will do nothing foolish, I know, my boy," said the mother, laying
one hand upon his head and gazing proudly in his eyes.

"Nothing if I can help it," he cried; "and I'll consult you in
everything, but--but--"

"Yes, my boy, speak out."

"I don't want to hurt your feelings, dear, and yet if I speak of a sword
or a gun--"

Lady Royland shivered slightly, but she drew a long, deep breath, and
raised herself up proudly.

"Roy," she said, "that was in times of peace, before this terrible
emergency had arisen.  As a woman, I shrink from bloodshed and
everything that suggests it.  It has been my constant dread that you, my
boy, should follow your father's profession.  `My boy a soldier!'  I
said, as I lay sleepless of a night, and I felt that I could not bear
the thought.  But Heaven's will be done, my son.  The time has come when
my weak, womanly fears must be crushed down, and I must fulfil my duty
as your dear father's wife.  We cannot question his wisdom.  A terrible
crisis has come upon our land, and we must protect ourselves and those
who will look to us for help.  Then, too, your father calls upon us to
try to save his estate here from pillage and the ruthless wrecking of
wicked men.  Roy, my boy, I hope I shall not be such a weak woman now,
but your help and strengthener, as you will be mine.  You will not hurt
my feelings, dear, in what you do.  You see," she continued, smiling, as
she laid her hand upon the hilt of the sword the lad had so hastily
buckled on, "I do not wince and shudder now.  Fate has decided upon your
career, Roy, young as you are, and I know that my son's sword, like his
father's, will never be drawn unless it is to protect the weak and
maintain the right."

"Never, mother," cried the boy, enthusiastically; and as Lady Royland
tried to raise him, he sprang to his feet.  "Oh," he cried, "I wish I
were not such a boy!"

"I do not," said his mother, smiling.  "You are young, and I am only a
woman, but our cause will make us strong, Roy.  There," she continued,
embracing him lovingly, "the time has come to act.  You will consult
with Martlet what to do about the defences at once, while I write back
to your father.  When do you think the men will be fit to go back?"

"They'd go to-night, mother; they seem to be just the fellows; but their
horses want two or three days' rest."

"Roy!"

"Yes, mother.  It's a long journey, and they'll have to go by
out-of-the-way roads to avoid attack."

"But we have horses."

"Yes, mother, but they would sooner trust their own."

Lady Royland bowed her head.

"The letters must go back by them," she said, "and they must start at
the earliest minute they can.  But there is another thing.  It is right
that Master Pawson should be taken into our counsels."

"Master Pawson, mother?"

"Yes, my boy.  He is your father's trusted servant, and I must not
slight any friends.  Go and ask him to come here."

"Can't," said Roy, shortly.  "He went out this morning, and said he
didn't think he would be back to dinner."

"Indeed!"

"Gone over to see the vicar."

"Gone to Mr Meldew," said Lady Royland, whose face looked very grave.
"Then it must be deferred till his return.  Now, Roy, what will you do
first?"

"See to the gates, mother, and that no one goes out or comes in without
leave."

"Quite right, Captain Roy," said Lady Royland, smiling.

The boy looked at her wonderingly.

"My heart is more at rest, dear," she said, gently, "and that aching
anxiety is at an end.  Roy, we know the worst, and we must act for the
best."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

BEN MEANS BUSINESS.

With his blood seeming to effervesce in his veins from the excitement he
felt, Roy placed the writing-materials in front of his mother and then
hurried out, crossed the drawbridge, and made for the little gate tower,
where, upon hearing steps, the old retainer came out, bent of head and
stooping, with one ear raised.

"Master Roy's step," he said; and as the boy came closer: "Yes, it's
you, sir; just like your father's step, sir, only younger.  What's the
news, Master Roy?"

"Bad, Jenk,--civil war has broken out.  Father is well and with his
regiment, but there is great trouble in the land.  I'm going to put the
castle in a state of defence.  Shut the gate again and keep it close.
No one is to come in or out without an order from my mother or from me."

"That's right, Master Roy, sir; that's right," piped the retainer.
"I'll just buckle on my sword at once.  She's as sharp and bright as
ever she was.  Nobody shall go by.  So there's to be a bit of a war, is
there?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Jenk."

"Don't say afraid so, Master Roy; sounds as if you would be skeart, and
your father's son couldn't be that.  But nobody goes by here without
your orders, sir, or my lady's, and so I tell 'em.  I'm getting on a bit
in years, and I can't see quite as well as I should do, not like I used;
but it's the sperrit as does it, Master Roy."

"So it is, Jenk; and you've got plenty in you, haven't you?"

"Ay, ay, ay, Master Roy," quavered the old man, "plenty.  Up at the
house there they get talking about me as if I was so very old; but I'll
let some of 'em see.  Why, I want five year o' being a hundred yet, and
look at what they used to be in the Scripter.  I'll keep the gate fast,
sir--I did this morning, didn't I, when they three dragoons come up?"

"Yes, capitally, Jenk--but I must go.  I'm busy."

"That's right, sir--you go.  Don't you be uneasy about the gate, sir.
I'll see to that."

"Yes," said Roy to himself, "it is the spirit that does it.  Now I
wonder whether I've got spirit enough to do all the work before me!"

He hurried back over the drawbridge, and glanced down into the clear
moat where he could see the great pike lying, but he did not stop to
think about catching it, for he hurried on to the servants' hall,
drawing himself up as he felt the importance of his position, and upon
entering, the three troopers, who were seated at a good substantial
meal, all rose and saluted their colonel's son.

"Got all you want, men?" said Roy, startling himself by his decisive way
of speaking.

"Yes, sir; plenty, sir," said the man who bore the despatch.  "Master
Martlet saw to that."

"That's right.  Now, look here, of course we want you and your horses to
have a good rest, but when do you think you'll be ready to take a
despatch back?"

"Take a despatch back, sir?" said the man, staring.  "We're not to take
anything back."

"Yes; a letter to my father."

"No, sir.  Colonel Sir Granby Royland's, orders were that we were to
stop here and to help take care of the castle."

"Were those my father's commands?" cried Roy, eagerly.

"Yes, sir, to all three of us--all five of us, it were, and I'm sorry I
couldn't bring the other two with me; but I did my best, didn't I,
lads?"

"Ay, corporal," chorused the others.

"Oh, that's capital!" cried Roy, eagerly.  "It relieves me of a good
deal of anxiety.  But my father--he'll expect a letter back."

"No, sir; he said there was no knowing where he would be with the
regiment, and we were to stay here till he sent orders for us to
rejoin."

"Where is Martlet?" asked Roy then.

"Said something about an armoury," replied the corporal.

Roy hurried off, and in a few minutes found the old soldier busy with a
bottle of oil and a goose feather, applying the oil to the mechanism of
a row of firelocks.

"Oh, here you are, Ben," cried Roy, excitedly.  "News for you, man."

"Ay, ay, sir, I've heard," said the old soldier, sadly.  "More rust."

"Yes, for you to keep off.  My father's orders are that the castle is to
be put in a state of defence directly."

Down went the bottle on the floor, and the oil began to trickle out.

"But--but," stammered the old fellow, "what does her ladyship say?"

"That she trusts to my father's faithful old follower to work with me,
and do everything possible for the defence of the place.  Hurrah, Ben!
God save the king!"

"Hurrah!  God save the king!" roared Ben; and running to the wall he
snatched a sword from where it hung, drew it, and waved it round his
head.  "Hah!  Master Roy, you've made me feel ten years younger with
those few words."

"Have I, Ben?  Why, somehow all this has made me feel ten years older."

"Then you've got a bit off me that I had to spare, Master Roy, and good
luck to you with it.  Then," he continued, after listening with eager
attention to Roy's rendering of his father's orders, "we must go to work
at once, sir."

"Yes; at once, Ben."

"Then the first thing is to order the gate to be kept shut, and that no
one goes out or in unless he has a pass from her ladyship or from you."

"Done, Ben.  I have been to old Jenk, and he has shut the gate, and
buckled on his old sword."

"Hah! hum! yes," said the old soldier, rubbing one of his ears; "that
sounds very nice, Master Roy, but," he continued, with a look of
perplexity, "it doesn't mean much, now, does it?"

"I don't understand you."

"Why, sir, I mean this: that if any one came up to the gate and wanted
to come in--`Give the pass,' says Jenk.  `Haven't got one,' says whoever
it is.  `Can't pass, then,' says Jenk, and then--"

"Well, yes, and then?" said Roy.  "Why, sir, if he took a good deep
breath, and then gave a puff, he'd blow poor old Jenk into the moat.
He's a good old boy, and I don't want to hurt his feelings, but we can't
leave things at the gate like that."

"But it would break his heart to be told he is--he--"

"Too rusty to go on, sir," said Ben, grimly.  "But it would break her
ladyship's heart if we didn't do our duty, and we shan't be doing that
if we leave our outwork in the hands of poor old Jenk."

"What's to be done?"

"I know, sir.  Tell him the gate's very important, and that he must have
two men with him, and let him suppose they're under his command."

"That's it, capital!" cried Roy.  "Then we must place two men there with
him at once."

"Ye-e-es, sir," said Ben, drily.  "But who are we to place there--
ourselves?"

Roy looked hard at Ben, and Ben looked hard at Roy.

"You see, sir, we've got the castle and the weepuns, but we've no
garrison.  That's the first thing to see to.  Why, when those three
troopers have gone back with their despatch, we shall have as good as
nobody."

"But they're not going back, Ben.  Father's orders are that they're to
stay."

"Three trained soldiers, sir, to start with!" cried Ben.  "Me four, and
you five.  Why, that's just like five seeds out of which we can grow a
little army."

"Then there are the men-servants."

"Well, sir, they're more used to washing cups and cleaning knives, and
plate, and horses; but we shall have to lick 'em into shape.  Let's see,
there's the three men indoors, the groom, and coachman, that makes five
more."

"And the two gardeners."

"Of course, sir!  Why, they'll make the best of 'em all.  Twelve of us."

"And Master Pawson, thirteen."

"P'ff! him!" cried Ben, with a look of contempt.  "What's he going to
do?  Read to the sentries, sir, to keep 'em from going to sleep?"

"Oh, he'll be of some use, Ben.  We mustn't despise any one."

"Right, sir; we mustn't: so as soon as he comes back--he's gone over to
Parson Meldew's--"

"Yes, I know."

"You tell him to get to his books and read all he can about sword and
pike wounds, and how to take a bullet out of a man when he gets hit.
Then he can cut up bandages, and get ready knives and scissors and
thread and big needles."

"Do you mean in case of wounds, Ben?"

"Why, of course, sir."

"But do you think it likely that we shall have some--"

"Rather queer sort of siege if we don't have some damage done, sir.
Well, that settles about Master Pawson.  Now, what next?"

"The men at the farm, Ben."

"Yes, sir; we ought to get about ten or a dozen.  They're good stout
lads.  We must have them up at once and do a bit of drilling.  They
needn't stay here yet, but they can be got in order and ready to come in
at a moment's notice.  Next?"

"All the tenants must be seen, Ben.  They'll all come too, and drill
ready for service if wanted."

"And that means about another twenty, I suppose, sir."

"Yes, or more, Ben."

"If they're staunch, sir."

"Ah, but they would be.  My father's own tenants!"

"I dunno, sir.  If times are going to be like we hear, you'll find
people pretty ready to go over to the strongest side."

"Oh, nonsense!  There isn't a man round here who wouldn't shout for the
king."

"Quite right, sir," said Ben.  "I believe that."

"Then why do you throw out such nasty hints?"

"'Cause I've got my doubts, sir.  Lots on 'em'll shout for the king, but
if it comes to the pinch and things are going wrong, I want to know how
many will fight for the king."

"Every true man, Ben."

"Azackly, sir; but, you see, there's a orful lot o' liars in the world.
But we shall see."

"Well, we've got to keep the castle, Ben."

"We have, sir, and keep it we will, till everybody's about wounded or
dead, and the enemy comes swarming and cheering in, and then they shan't
have it."

"Why, they'll have got it, Ben," said Roy, laughing, but rather
uncomfortably, for the man's words as to the future did not sound
pleasant.

"Ay, and I shall take it away from 'em, sir; for if the worst comes to
the worst, I shall have made all my plans before, and I'll do a bit o'
Guy Fawkesing."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I should ha' thought you'd ha' understood that, sir."

"Of course I do; but how could you blow up the castle?"

"By laying a train to the powder-magazine, knocking the heads out of a
couple o' kegs, and then up it goes."

"Powder--magazine--kegs?" cried Roy.  "Why, we haven't one, and I wanted
to talk to you about getting some.  How's it to be done?"

"By going to your father's lib'ry, sir, and opening the little drawer as
he keeps locked up in the big oak table.  There's the keys there."

"Yes, of the wine-cellars, Ben; but no--Oh, absurd!"

"Is it, my lad?  I think not.  Think it's likely as your grandfather and
his father would have had swords and pikes and armour, and big guns and
little guns, and not had no powder to load 'em with?"

"Well, it doesn't sound likely, Ben; but I'm sure we have none here."

"Well, sir, begging your pardon for contradicting my master, I'm sure as
we have."

"Down in the cellars?"

"Down in one of 'em, sir."

"But I never knew."

"Perhaps not, sir; but I've been down there with your father, and I
don't suppose it's a thing he'd talk about.  Anyhow, there it is, shut
up behind three doors, and I'll be bound to say dry as a bone.  It's
very old, but good enough, may be.  All the same, though, Master Roy,
the sooner we try what it's like the better, and if you'll take my
advice you'll have one of the big guns loaded and fired with a good
round charge.  That'll try the gun, scale it out, and give 'em a hint
for miles round that, though Sir Granby's gone to the wars, his son's at
home, and his dame too, and that they don't mean to stand any nonsense
from a set o' crop-eared rascals.  That'll do more good, Master Roy,
than a deal o' talking, and be less trouble."

"We must do it at once, Ben," said Roy, decidedly.

"The first thing, sir; and, by the way, as we're going to begin to get
our garrison together, it'll be as well to make a little show.  If I was
you, I'd put on a pair of buff boots, wear a sword and a sash always,
and I don't say put on a lot of armour, but if you'll let me, I'll take
the gorget off that suit of Italian armour, and you can wear that."

"But it will look so--" said Roy, flushing.

"Yes, sir; but we've got to look so," said the old soldier, decidedly.
"It makes people respect you; and if you'll be good enough to give me my
orders, I'll take to a buff coat and steel cap at once."

"Very well, do so," said Roy.  "But I will not promise to make any show
myself."

"But you must, sir, please, for her ladyship's sake.  Look here, Master
Roy, you'll be calling the tenants and labourers together, and you'll
have to make them a speech."

"Shall I?" said Roy, nervously.

"Why, of course, sir, telling 'em what their duty is, and calling upon
'em to fight for their king, their country, and their homes.  Yes,
that's it, sir; that's just what you've got to say."

"Well, Ben, if I must, I must."

"Then must it is, sir; but if they come here to the castle, and you're
like you are now, they'll be only half warmed up, and say that Master
Roy can talk, and some of 'em'll sneer and snigger; but if you come out
when they're all here, looking like your father's son in a cavalier hat
and feathers, with the gorget on, and the king's colours for a sash, ay,
and buff boots and spurs--"

"Oh, no, not spurs when I'm walking," protested Roy.

"Yes, sir, spurs,--a big pair with gilt rowels, as'll _clink-clink_ with
every step you take; they'll set up a cheer, and swear to fight for you,
when you've done, to the death.  And look here, Master Roy, when you've
done speaking, you just wave your hat, and chuck it up in the air, as if
fine felts and ostridge feathers weren't nothing to you, who called upon
'em all to fight for the king."

Roy drew a deep sigh, for his follower's words had nearly made him
breathless.

"We shall see," he sighed.

"Yes, sir, we shall see," cried Ben.  "So now, if you please, sir, I
won't wait to be getting into my buff jerkin now, but I'll take your
orders for what we're to do first."

"Yes, Ben; what ought we to do first?"

"Well, sir, it's you as know.  You said something about strengthening
the guard at the gate."

"Oh, but I say, Ben, that was you said so."

"Only as your mouthpiece, sir."

"But it sounds silly to talk about strengthening the guard at the gate
when we've only got old Jenk, and no regular sentry to put there."

"Never you mind about how it sounds, sir, so long as it's sense," cried
Ben, striking his fist into his left palm.  "We've got to make our
garrison and our sentries out of the raw stuff, and the sooner we begin
to sound silly now the better.  It won't be silly for any one who comes
and finds a staunch man there, who would sooner send a musketoon bullet
through him than let him pass."

"No, Ben, it will not, certainly.  Whom shall I send?"

"Well, sir, if I was you, I'd do it as I meant to go on.  You give me my
orders, and I'll go and enlist Sam Rogers in the stable at once, bring
him here fierce-like into the armoury; put him on a buff coat, buckle on
a sword, and give him his bandoleer and firelock, and march him down
with sword drawn to relieve guard with old Jenk."

"But he'll be cleaning the troopers' horses, and begin to laugh."

"Sam Rogers, sir?  Not him.  He'll come like a lamb; and when I marches
him down to the gate, he'll go out like a lion, holding his head up with
the steel cap on, and be hoping that all the servant-girls and the cook
are watching him.  Don't you be afraid of him laughing.  All I'm afraid
of is, that while he's so fresh he'll be playing up some games with his
firelock, and mocking poor old Jenk."

"Pray, warn him, then."

"You trust me, sir.  Then, when that's done, perhaps you'll give the
orders to find quarters for our new men, and tell 'em that they're to
rest till to-morrow by your orders; and after that there's the
drawbridge and portcullis."

"Yes; what about them?"

"Why, sir, you know how they've been for years.  You must have 'em seen
to at once; and, if I was you, I'd have the portcullis seen to first,
and the little sally-port door in the corner of the tower.  We shall
want half a dozen men.  I'm a bit afraid of the old bars and rollers,
but we shall see."

"Order the men to come, then, when you've done, and let us see, and get
everything right as soon as possible."

Ben saluted in military fashion, and marched off to the hall, where Roy
heard him speak in a cheering, authoritative voice to the new-comers,
and then came out to march across to the stables, which were in the
basement of the east side of the castle, with their entrance between the
building and the court; but the gate-way that had opened into the
court-yard had been partly closed up when that was turned into a
flower-garden, and the archway was now covered with ivy.

Roy went up to one of the corridors beneath the ramparts, and watched,
out of curiosity, to see how the groom would take his new orders.

He was not long kept in suspense, for the sturdy young fellow came out
talking eagerly with Ben and turning down his sleeves.  Then they went
inside, through the great gate-way to the armoury, and in an incredibly
short space of time came out together, the groom in steel jockey-shaped
cap with a spike on the top, buff coat, sword, and bandoleer, and
shouldering the clumsy firelock of the period.

As they reached the archway, Ben stopped short, drew his sword, said a
few words in a sharp tone, and marched off, with Sam Rogers keeping
step; while a muttering of voices told of how strangely matters had
turned out according to old Ben's prophecy, for, on turning to see what
it meant, Roy saw down through one of the narrow windows that the whole
of the household had turned out to do likewise.  But there was no
giggling and laughing, for the women seemed to be impressed, and the
men-servants were shaking their heads and talking together earnestly
about the evil times that had come.

Another sound made Roy turn sharply in the other direction to see his
mother approaching.

"Then you have begun, my son," she said, gravely.

"Yes, mother.  The sentry was set, after a long talk with Martlet."

"You need not speak in that apologetic tone, my boy," said Lady Royland,
quietly.  "I see the necessity, and I am sure you are doing well.  Now,
come and tell me more of your plans."

She led the way to the library, and as they entered Roy glanced towards
the big oak table standing at one end; his eyes fixed themselves upon
the small drawer, and he seemed to see a rusty old key lying there, one
whose wards were shaping themselves plainly before his eyes, as he told
of his arrangements with the old soldier.

"Yes, you have begun well, Roy," said Lady Royland at last.  "And what
Martlet says is quite true."

"But you would not dress up as he advises, mother?" protested Roy,
rather bashfully.

"Dress up?  No, my boy; but I would put on such things as a cavalier and
an officer would wear under such circumstances,--a gorget, sword, boots,
hat and feathers, and the king's colours as a scarf.  Why, Roy, your
father would wear those in addition to his scarlet coat."

"Yes, mother; but he is a soldier."

"So are you now, Roy," said the dame, proudly.  "And so must every man
be who loves his king and country.  Martlet is quite right, and I shall
prepare your scarf and feathers with my own hands."

"Why, mother," cried the boy, wonderingly, "how you have changed since
even a short time ago."

"So has our position, Roy, my son," she said, firmly.  "Who's there?"

The butler entered.

"Benjamin Martlet would be glad, my lady, if Master Roy would come and
give him his instructions, and, if you please, my lady, he wishes me to
help."

"And you will, I am sure, Grey?"

"Oh, yes, my lady," said the man, eagerly; "but I was afraid your
ladyship might be wanting something, and no one to answer the bell."

"I want my servants, Grey, to help me to protect their master's
interests while he is forced to be away in the service of the king.  Can
I count upon that help?"

"Yes, my lady, to a man," cried the old servant, eagerly.

"I thought so," said Lady Royland, smiling proudly.  "You will go, then,
Roy, and see what Martlet is to do."

Roy was already at the door, and five minutes later he was standing in
the gate-way with every man employed about the place, the three troopers
being fast asleep, exhausted by their long journey down from town.



CHAPTER NINE.

PORTCULLIS AND BRIDGE.

As Roy appeared, there was a low buzz of voices, and directly after the
butler cried, "Three cheers for the young master!" with a hearty result.

Just then Ben came close up to say, confidentially--

"I made it all comfortable with poor old Jenk, sir."

"That's right; and Sam Rogers?"

"Proud's a dog with two tails, sir.  Now, sir, if you'll give the
orders, we'll go up and see what can be done about making the place
safe, and I'm afraid we're going to have a job."

Roy felt a slight sensation of shrinking, but he mastered it, and
calling to the men to follow him, he turned in by the low arched
door-way, and ascended to the first chamber of the gate tower, to pause
where the great iron grating hung before him in its stone grooves formed
in the wall, and with its spikes descending through the slit on the
floor, below which the stone paving of the entrance could be seen.

To make sure of its not descending by any accident of the chains giving,
three massive pieces of squared oak had been thrust through as many of
the openings at the bottom, so that the portcullis rested upon them as
these crossed the long narrow slit through which it descended, and a
little examination showed that if the chains were tightened by turning
the two capstans by means of the bars, and the chains drawn a little
over the great wheels fixed in the ceiling, it would be easy enough to
withdraw the three supports and let the grating down.

"Chains look terribly rusty," said Roy.  "Think they'll bear it, Ben?"

"They're rusty, sir, and a good deal eaten away; but they used to put
good work into these sort o' things, because if they hadn't, they'd have
come down and killed some one.  Shall we try?"

"Yes; no one can be hurt if a watch is kept below.  Go down, one of you,
and see that no one passes under."

One of the men ran down, the old capstan-bars were taken from the
corners, and two men on each side inserted them into the holes, and
waited for the order to tighten the chains round the rollers.

"Ready?  All together!" cried Roy; and the men pulled the bars towards
them with a will, the chains tightened, the pulleys creaked and groaned,
and the grating rose an inch or two, sufficient for the pieces of oak
crossing the narrow slit to have been drawn out, when _crack_--_crack_--
two of the bars the men handled snapped short off, and their holders
fell, while the portcullis sank back to its old place with a heavy jar.

"Hundred years, perhaps, since they've been used," said Roy.  "Any one
hurt?"

"No, sir," said the men, laughing in spite of a bruise or two; and the
bars being examined, it was found that the tough oak of which they were
composed was completely honeycombed by worms, and powdered away to dust.

"First job, then, sir, to make new bars," said Ben, promptly.

"Yes; we'll have the carpenters in from the village directly, Ben.  With
these pulleys well greased, I suppose this will work."

"Ay, sir, no doubt about that; it's the drawbridge I'm afraid of," said
Ben.

"Let's go up and see, then."

Roy led the way again, and the men followed into the dark chamber above,
where the old furnace stood, and in the corners on either side of the
narrow window, with its hollowed-out notches for firing or using
cross-bows from, were two great round chimney-like constructions built
in the stone, up and down which huge weights, which depended from
massive chains and passed over great rollers, had formerly been used to
glide.

Ben shook his head as he put his hand upon one of the weights, which
were formed of so many discs of cast lead, through the centre of which
the great chain passed, a solid bar of iron being driven through a link
below to keep them from sliding off.

The weights hung about breast-high; and at the slight pressure of the
man's hand began to swing to and fro in the stone place open to the
chamber, but closed below where they ran down in the wall at the sides
of the gate-way.

"Well, these must have been worked by hand, Ben," said Roy.  "Men must
have stood here and run them down.  Two of you go to the other side, and
all press down together, but stand ready to jump back in case anything
breaks.  I don't see how you can be hurt if you do."

"No, sir; no one can't be hurt, for the weights will only go down these
holes with a bang."

"Try, then.  Now, all together--pull!"

The men tugged and strained, but there was no sign of yielding, and Ben
shook his head.

"Rollers must be rusted, sir, and stick."

But upon his climbing up to examine them, it proved that these had not
been made to turn, only for the chains to slide over them, as the
grooves worn in the iron showed.

"Nothing to stop 'em here, sir," said the man.

"Then it must be set fast at the end of the bridge," said Roy; and,
descending with the men, they crossed the moat and found the bridge
completely wedged and fixed in the opening of stone which embraced the
end.

Picks and crowbars were fetched, the stones and sand scraped out, and
when the place was cleared they reascended to the furnace-chamber, when,
upon another trial being made, it was found that the weights so
accurately balanced the bridge that with very little exertion the chains
came screeching and groaning over the iron rollers, and the men gave a
cheer as the end rose up and up till it was drawn very nearly up to the
face of the tower.

Ben rubbed his ear and grinned with satisfaction.

"Come, sir," he said, "we can make ourselves pretty safe that way; but
I'm afraid the moat's so filled up that a man can wade across."

"That he can't," cried one of the gardeners.  "I've plumbed it all over,
and there aren't a place less nor seven or eight feet deep, without
counting the mud."

"Then you've been fishing!" thought Roy, but he did not say so, only
gave orders for the bridge to be lowered again, and sent a man for a
supply of grease to well lubricate the rollers and chains.

Down went the bridge, in a most unmusical way, and as soon as it was in
its place once more, a man was sent across for the village carpenter to
come with his tools, there being plenty of good seasoned oak-wood stored
up in the buildings.

Then a consultation ensued.  They had the means of cutting themselves
off from the outer world, and in a short time the portcullis would add
to the strength of their defences.

"What's next, Ben?" said Roy.

"I'm a-thinking, sir.  We've done a lot already, but there's so much
more to do that things get a bit jumbled like in my head.  We've got to
get our garrison, and then there's two very important things--wittles
and water!"

"The well supplies that last," said Roy; "and if we were running short,
we could use the water from the moat for everything but food."

"Yes, sir, that's good.  Cart must go to the mill, and bring all the
corn and flour that can be got.  Then we must have some beasts and sheep
from the farm."

"That's bad," said Roy, "because they'll want feeding."

"Have to be driven out every morning, sir, till we're besieged.  Must
have some cows in too, so that if we are beset we can be independent.
But first of all, sir, we ought to see to the powder and the guns.  But
you and me must see to the powder ourselves.  We shall want some help
over the guns, and I'm thinking as you'd best make that carpenter stay.
The wheels are off one or two of the gun-carriages, and there's no
rammers or sponges; and I shouldn't wonder if the carriages as I painted
over and pitched are only so many worm-eaten shells."

"Well, all these things will have to be got over by degrees, Ben.  We
have done the first great things towards making the castle safe, and an
enemy need not know how unprepared we are."

"I don't know so much about being safe, sir."

"What, not with the drawbridge up?"

"No, sir," said Ben, in a low tone.  "But suppose you sends the men to
dinner now, and orders 'em to meet in a hour's time in the court-yard--
oh dear, oh dear! that's all garden now."

"You can make room for the men to meet without disturbing the garden,"
said Roy, sharply.

"Very well, sir; you're master.  Will you give your orders?"

Roy gave them promptly, and the men walked away.

"Now, then," said Roy, "what did you mean about the place not being
safe?  With the bridge up, they could only cross to us by rafts or
boats, and then they couldn't get in."

"Well, sir, it's like this.  I've heard tell, though I'd forgotten all
about it till just now, as there's a sort o' passage goes out from the
dungeons under the nor'-west tower over to the little ruins on the hill
over yonder."

"Impossible!  Why, it would have to be half a mile long, Ben."

"All that, sir."

"But it couldn't go under the moat.  It would be full of water."

"Nay, not if it was made tight, sir."

"But what makes you say that?  You've never seen the passage?"

"No, sir, I've never been down, but your father once said something
about it.  It was a long time before that tower was done up and made
right for Master Pawson.  I don't recollect much about it, but I suppose
it must be there."

"That's another thing to see to, then," said Roy.  "Because, if it does
exist, and the enemy heard of it, he might come in and surprise us.  I
know; we'll find it, and block it up."

"Nay, I wouldn't do that, sir.  It might be that we should have to go
away, and it isn't a bad thing to have a way out in case of danger."

"Not likely to do that, Ben," said Roy, haughtily.  "We are going to
hold the place."

"Yes, sir, as long as we can; but we can't do impossibilities.  Now,
sir, will you go and have your bit o' dinner, while I have mine?"

"Oh, I don't feel as if I could eat, Ben; I'm too full of excitement."

"More reason why you should go and have your dinner, sir.  Man can't
fight without he eats and drinks."

"Nor a boy, neither--eh, Ben?"

"That's so, sir; only I wouldn't be talking before the men about being
only a boy.  You leave them to say it if they like.  But they won't;
they'll judge you by what you do, sir; and if you act like a man,
they'll look at you as being the one in command of them, and behave like
it."

"Very well, I'll go to dinner, and in an hour meet you here."

"Fifty minutes, sir.  It's a good ten minutes since the men went in."

Roy joined his mother, feeling, as he said, too full of excitement to
eat; but he found the meal ready, with one of the maids in attendance,
and everything so calm and quiet, that, as they sat chatting, it seemed
as if all this excitement were as unsubstantial as the distant rumours
of war; while, when the meal was at an end, his mother's words tended to
lend some of her calm to his excited brain.

"I have been hearing of all that you have done, Roy," she said.  "It is
excellent; but do not hurry.  I cannot afford to have you ill."

That was a fresh idea, and the consequences of such a trouble too
horrible to be contemplated; but it made Roy determine to take things
more coolly, and in this spirit he went to where the servants were
assembled in the gate-way, and joined his trusty lieutenant, who had
just drawn them up in line.



CHAPTER TEN.

ROY VISITS THE POWDER-MAGAZINE.

"Now, Ben, what next?"

"The thing I've been thinking, sir, is that, little as it be, we must
make the most of our garrison.  It's war time now, and if you'll give
the order I'll march the men to the armoury and serve out the weepuns
and clothes."

Roy nodded, gave the word for the men to march, counter-ordered it, at a
hint from Ben, and then, telling them to face right, put himself at
their head, and marched them to the long, low room at once.

Ben began to serve out the buff jerkins and steel caps.

"Can't stop for no trying on now," he said; "you must do as we used in
the army,--change about till you get them as fits you."

This done, the firelocks and bandoleers followed, and, lastly, to each
man a belt and sword.

And all the time the old soldier handed every article to the recipient
with a grave dignity and a solemnity of manner which seemed to say, "I
am giving treasures to you that I part from with the greatest regret,"
and he finished with--

"Now, my lads, look here: it's a great honour to bear arms in the
service of your king, and if you're carrying Sir Granby Royland's arms
you're carrying the king's, so take care of 'em.  A good soldier
wouldn't have a speck of rust on his helmet or his sword; they're as
bright as I can make 'em now, and as sharp, so mind they're always so.
Now go to your new quarters and put 'em on--proper, mind; and your
master, the captain here, will have a parade in an hour's time."

The men went off, leaving Roy wondering at the calmness with which he
stood by listening while old Ben talked to the men and kept on referring
to him as "your master."

Ben now turned to him.  "What do you say, sir?" he said.  "Don't you
think we had better go down and see if all's right in the
powder-magazine?"

"But it's in the cellar, Ben, and you'd want a light."

"Hardly fair, sir, to call it the cellar.  I believe it's one of the old
dungeons where they used to shut people up in the good old times."

"That would be darker still, Ben.  How are we to see?"

"Have to feel, sir; for I don't fancy taking down a lantern.  Once we
get there and the place open, we can go round and tell with our hands
how many kegs there are on the shelves, and then if we bring one out and
try it, and it turns out all right, we shall know we're safe."

"Very well: it isn't a nice job; but, if it has to be done, we'd better
get it over."

"As you say, sir, it aren't a nice job; but, if we're very careful, I
don't see as we can come to much harm; so, if you'll get the keys, sir,
we'll go at once."

Roy nodded, and went in without a word, to find his mother seated in the
library writing.

"What is it, my boy?" she said.  "What do you want?"

Roy hesitated for a moment, and then said, rather huskily, "The keys.
Ben and I are going down into the magazine."

Lady Royland looked at him in a wondering way.

"The magazine?  Do you mean the store-room?"

"No; the powder-magazine."

She started now, and looked anxious.

"I had almost forgotten its existence, Roy.  But is it necessary?  It
may be dangerous to go into such a place."

"We shall take care, mother, and have no light.  It is necessary, Ben
says, for we must be provided with gunpowder, and he wants to try
whether it is good, because it must be very old."

"Very old, my boy.  Probably older than your grandfather's day.  I
hardly like you to go upon such an errand."

"But if I'm to be captain, mother, and look after the place, I can't go
back and tell Ben that.  It would look so weak."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Lady Royland, making an effort to be calm
and firm.  "But you will be very careful, Roy."

"You may trust me, mother," he said; and she drew the keys, with a sigh,
from the drawer in the old table, and handed them to her son, who took
them and returned to his lieutenant.

"Here they are, Ben," said Roy, quietly.  "Ready?"

"Yes, sir, I'm ready.  I want to be satisfied about that powder, because
it means so much to us, for I'm sure I don't know how we could get any
more in times like these.  You might send an order to London or one of
the places in Kent where they make it, but I should never expect to see
it come down here.  Well, we won't waste time; so come along."

Taking off his sword, and signing to Roy to do the same, he led the way
to the flight of spiral steps in the base of the south-east tower, but,
instead of going up, followed it down to where there was a low arched
door on their left and an opening on their right.

"Long time since any one's been in that old dungeon, Master Roy.
Hundred years, I dare say.  Maybe we shall be putting some one in, one
of these days!"

"In there?  Whom?  What for?"

"Prisoners, sir, for fighting against the king."  The old fellow
laughed, and went along through the opening on their right, which proved
to be an arched passage very dimly lit by a series of little pipe-like
holes sloping inward through the outer wall of the castle and opening
about a foot above the moat.  On their aft were doors of a row of
cellars built beneath the old court-yard; and as Ben walked onward he
said--

"Who'd think as there were green grass and flower-beds up above them,
Master Roy?  But we do see changes in this life.  Halt! here we are."

He stopped at the end of the passage, where there was a massive oak
door-way facing them beneath a curious old Norman arch, and, after
trying hard with three different keys, the rusty wards of the old lock
allowed one to turn, and the door was pushed wide open, creaking back
against the wall.

"Rather dark, sir," said Ben.  "Get on a deal better with a candle; but
it wouldn't do."

Roy peered in, and, as his eyes grew more accustomed to the obscurity,
he made out that he was gazing into a small stone chamber; but there was
no sign of chest or keg, or door leading onward.

"Why, the place is empty, Ben," said the boy, with a sigh of relief.

"We don't know that yet, sir, because we haven't seen it," said Ben,
quietly.  "This is only the way to the magazine.  People in the old days
knew what dangerous tackle it was, and took care of it according.  But
it's going to be a dark job, and no mistake."

The old soldier stepped in, and, stooping down in the middle of the
blank stone chamber, took hold of a large copper ring and drew up one
side of a heavy flagstone, which turned silently upon copper pivots, and
this flag he laid back till it was supported by the ring.

"Looks darker down there, sir," said Ben, as Roy stood beside him and
they tried to pierce the gloom, but only for the latter to make out the
dim outline of a stone step or two.

"You've been down here before, of course?" whispered Roy, as if the
place impressed him.

"Yes, sir; once.  There's a door at the bottom, and that's the magazine.
It will be all feeling, sir.  Will you go back while I try and get a
keg?"

"No," said Roy, firmly, but with an intense desire to say yes.  "I shall
stay while you go down.  There can be no danger if you have no light."

"Unless the rusty key strikes a light, sir."

"Oh, that's impossible," whispered Roy.

"I suppose I'd better pull off my boots before I go down; it'll perhaps
be safer."

He seated himself on the floor and pulled them off, Roy standing up,
leaning against the wall, and doing the same.

"What's that for?" said Ben.

"Coming with you.  I want to know what the place is like."

"Oh, there's no need for two of us to go, sir.  One's enough."

Roy said nothing, but followed the old fellow down eight stone steps,
and then they stood together against a door, which felt to the touch to
be very strongly made of stone, while, after a little searching about
for a keyhole, Ben said, with a grunt--

"Forgot!  There aren't no key to this.  It's fastened with these two
wooden bars."

"I thought they were part of the door, Ben," said Roy, in the same
suppressed tone.

"So did I, sir, at first.  I ought to have remembered, and I think I do
now.  Yes! that's the way; they turn on pins in the middle like wooden
buttons, and you turns one up and the other down out of the notches they
fit in, and then push the door, which has stone hinges."

As he spoke, Ben turned the two great wooden bars, and then pressed upon
the door.

"Hope the stones won't strike a light, sir," said Ben, in a low growl.

Roy felt as if a hand had suddenly compressed his heart, and he peered
wildly through the door-way, half expecting to see a tiny spark or two,
as a dull, grating sound arose; but the only sparks the door made were
those glittering in his own eyes, and he drew a deeper, harder breath as
the door ceased to move.

"Now, we've got to be careful, or we shall be hitting against one
another, sir!  Let me see: there's one step down, and then you're in a
place like a dairy, with two sets of stone shelves,--one just above the
floor, to keep it out of the damp; the other just about as high as a
man's breast,--and there's kegs of powder piled-up on them all.  You
stand still, and I'll go in."

"No; let me," said Roy, though why he said this puzzled the boy himself,
when the exciting minutes had passed.

"Well, sir, you're master, and if you'd rather, of course you can.  But
I don't mind going if you like."

"I'll go," said Roy, huskily, and, stretching out his hands in the now
profound darkness, he felt for and touched the side of the entrance,
then made a step forward to place his stockinged foot down upon the cold
stone floor, which struck up like ice.  Bringing forward his second
foot, he reached out for the side of the vault, and found the place just
as his companion had described, for his hands came in contact with small
wooden barrels, neatly piled one upon the other on a great stone shelf,
beneath which was another shelf laden in a similar way.

"Feel anything, sir?" said Ben, from the entrance.

"Yes: barrels, numbers of them," said Roy, huskily, his voice sounding a
mere whisper in the darkness.  "They go on--yes, to here.  It is only a
small vault."

"Yes, sir, but big enough.  Try the other side now."

Three steps took Roy there, and his hands touched barrels again piled-up
in the same way, and he whispered his experience.

"That's it, sir; just what I thought.  But what we want to know now is,
are they full?  Would you mind lifting one, or shall I come and do it?"

Roy shuddered a little, but he did not shrink.  Stretching out his
hands, he took a careful hold of one of the kegs, raised it to find it
fairly heavy, and then replaced it.

"Try another, sir."

Roy felt less compunction in lifting the second, and this being
replaced, he began to sound others with his knuckles, to find that they
all gave forth the same dull dead note.

"That's all we want to know down here, Master Roy," said the old soldier
at last; "and now I think we'd better get back and take a couple of the
little kegs with us.  I'd take one from each side, sir.  You pass 'em to
me and I'll carry 'em up safely.  It wouldn't do to drop one in case it
should go off."

These words, lightly spoken, made Roy thrill as he lifted down one of
the kegs, getting his fingers tightly fitted to the ends, and then stood
there in the black darkness, afraid to stir for fear he should strike
his elbow against anything and jerk the keg to the floor.

"Got him, sir?"

"Yes," said Roy, hoarsely.  "Whereabouts are you?"

"Here, just at the door, sir; I haven't moved," was the reply.

"Reach out your hands, then, and take hold very carefully.  Tell me when
you've got it tight."

"Tight hold," said Ben, the next moment.

"Sure?"

"Yes, sir; let it go, and I'll carry it up."

Roy quitted his hold of the keg unwillingly, and his heart beat
violently as he listened to the soft _pat, pat_, of his companion's
feet, and thought of the consequences of a fall.  Possibly one vivid
flash and the whole place destroyed; and yet for years they had all been
living so close to this terribly destructive power.

"If Ben should drop that keg!"

But Ben only set it down quietly a short distance from the top of the
steps and descended.

"T'other one, sir, please," he said; and Roy placed this in the man's
hands with the same shrinking feeling of reluctance.

It was carried up, and Roy stepped out, drawing the door after him, and
after a few trials managing to close the two bars which secured the
place.

"Don't want no help there, sir?"

"No; I have done it," was the reply; and Roy ascended the steps and
waited for his companion to close the stone trap.

"Not a bad hole this to shut any one up in if we ever wanted to get rid
of him, eh?  He'd have to shout pretty hard to make any one hear."

"Don't talk; let's get away from the dreadful place," said Roy, whose
face was wet with perspiration.  "Can you carry both kegs?"

"Half a dozen if you'd range 'em, sir," replied Ben.

"Then I'll fasten the doors after us; and, mind this, the magazine must
always be most carefully locked up."

"You trust me for that, sir!" replied Ben.  "I know too well what powder
can do to try any tricks or trust anybody with it but myself.  Why, do
you know, sir, what would happen if I gave a fellow like Tom Rogers a
keg to carry?"

"No; how can I tell?" said Roy, shortly.

"Well, I can, sir: he'd set it up on end, sit upon it, and take out a
flint and steel to light his pipe as like as not."

"Don't talk any more, please, Ben," said the boy as he proceeded to lock
one of the doors.

"No, sir; I only did it so as to keep you from thinking about what we've
been doing.  I suppose one would get used to it, but it does seem to me
rather ugly work even to an old soldier."

"Where are we to put these two kegs?" said Roy.

"In the big closet in the armoury, sir," replied Ben.  "Don't you fidget
about them; they shall be all right, for that's my part of the place,
and nobody goes in there without my leave."

"It's impossible to help feeling a little uncomfortable about them, Ben,
but I know you'll take care."

"I just think I will, sir.  I'm very particular about no harm coming to
Sergeant Benjamin Martlet; and as to doing anything that might mean
risks for my lady--but there, I needn't say nothing about that.  You can
come and see me put 'em away."

Roy insisted upon carrying one of the kegs, in spite of the old
soldier's opposition, not to relieve him of the load, but as a lesson to
himself in the art of getting used to the dangerous composition.  In
addition, it had occurred to him that he should have to be present when
the barrels were opened, and the gun or guns fired to test their utility
and strength after lying by for so many years.  Roy had never even heard
a big gun fired, and he told himself that it would not do for him to
display the slightest dread before the men.

Consequently he hid his nervousness, and helped to deposit the kegs in
the great cupboard which contained Ben's tools and cleaning apparatus.

"There!" said that individual, "as soon as we've had our parade, and
dismissed the troops, we'll see to that powder, and find out what it's
like."

He thrust the key into his pocket, buckled on his sword again, and,
drawing himself up, asked the "captain" to lead the way to the entrance
gate.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MASTER PAWSON GIVES HIS OPINIONS.

"You're quite turning everything into military style, Ben," said Roy, as
they left the armoury.

"Yes, sir; nothing like it.  Keep the men up to the mark."

"But isn't it comic to speak of the people as the troops?"

"No, sir; not a bit.  Troops are troops whether there's many or few.
It's serious work is fighting, and, with due respect to you, sir,
there's nothing comic in treating our new levies as if they were
seasoned men."

All the same, though, Roy felt that he could not agree with his
companion, when they reached the great gate-way, now, for the time
being, made the parade ground.  To his eyes the aspect of the place was
decidedly comic, and his first impulse upon seeing the familiar figures
of butler, footman, grooms, and gardeners, looking stiff and awkward in
their heavy buff coats, creased and angular for want of use, was to
burst out laughing.

But he did not even smile, for he could see that the men were glancing
at him consciously, and he knew that any such display of mirth at their
personal appearance would have had a most disastrous effect.  As it was,
he behaved very wisely, for when Ben shouted out an order for them to
fall into line, Roy advanced to the men at once with a few encouraging
remarks.

"The accoutrements and things have been lying by so long," he said,
"that they must be very uncomfortable and stiff."

"Yes, sir, they really are," said the butler, shaking his head.  "You
feel as if you can't move in them; and my steel cap is terribly heavy."

"You'll find them grow more easy to wear after a bit," said Roy, at a
venture.  "I see you are pretty well fitted, and--What's that, Ben?"

For voices came from the gate-way beyond the drawbridge, a hundred yards
from where they were standing.

"I'll see, sir," said Ben, importantly, as he drew himself to the
salute.  "Beg pardon, sir," he added in a low tone; "be better now if
you'd make everything soldierly and speak to me as sergeant.  Don't see
why my old rank shouldn't tell now, and it will help me with the three
troopers, for one of 'em's a corporal."

Roy nodded, and directly after followed his sergeant, for he began to
have an inkling of what was going on.

As he crossed the drawbridge, it was in time to hear Master Pawson say,
in his high-pitched voice and in a tone of anger that was quite new--

"Oh, there you are, Martlet!  What is the meaning of all this folly?
Rogers dressed up, and telling me I can't come in without an order from
her ladyship."

"Quite right, sir," said Ben, steadily; "only he didn't know he was to
let in any one belonging to the place."

"But what does it mean?  I've been out since morning, and I return to
find the gate locked, and a man playing at being a sentry.  Why, Roy, my
dear boy, surely this is not some bad joke of yours?"

"Unfasten the gate, Rogers, and let Master Pawson in," said Roy, with
his face turning scarlet; and, seeing his look of confusion, the
secretary continued--

"Oh, I see; it is playing at soldiers.  And gracious me! who are those
under the gate-way?  Surely troops have not arrived in my absence.  My
dear Roy, surely her ladyship does not countenance this?  It is too
absurd."

Annoyance made the boy feel indignant, and he knew that those near him
expected him to speak on their behalf.

"It is not absurd, Master Pawson," he replied, sharply.  "The castle is
being placed under military rule now, and will be put in a state of
defence as soon as possible."

"That's so!" growled Ben, whose face was black as a thunder-cloud.

Master Pawson gave him a quick look, but he did not speak to him, but to
Roy.

"A state of defence!" he said, in a tone of raillery; "what nonsense!
and pray, why?"

"On account of the troubled times, sir."

"Troubled times!  What troubled times?"

"Surely you know, sir, who have been bringing my mother news of the
revolution."

Master Pawson's eyes opened a little more widely, for he was astonished.
The boy addressing him seemed no longer the quiet, sport-loving pupil
who came up into the tower to read with him and listen patiently while
he played on his violoncello, but one who had suddenly been transformed.

"Ah, you mean the tidings of those people who object to some of the
king's orders?  But really that has nothing to do with us out here in
this quiet, retired place.  And you are making it an excuse for all this
folly?  For shame, Roy!  Dressing up the servants, and putting on a
sword!  Go and take it off, boy, and do not make yourself ridiculous."

Ben glanced at his young master, whose face was redder than ever, and
waited impatiently for him to speak, while Master Pawson turned towards
his pupil smilingly, extending one hand to lay upon his shoulder, the
other to lay hold of his sword.

"There is nothing absurd or nonsensical about it, Master Pawson," he
said, firmly.  "As I have told you, the castle will be put in a state of
defence."

"You mean repair, my dear boy," said the secretary, mockingly.

"Yes, repair if you will, as to the weak parts, sir.  And as to playing
at soldiers, we may look a little awkward at first, as we are not used
to our weapons and arms; but that will soon pass off, and you will have
to join us, and do your best."

"That's so!" growled Ben, whose face began to lighten up a little as Roy
spoke out so firmly.

Master Pawson turned upon the old soldier with his eyebrows raised in a
look of surprise.

"My good man," he said, "will you please to recollect your position
here."

Ben saluted, and drew himself up as stiff as a pike.

"Nonsense, my dear boy!" continued Master Pawson; "this is all foolish
vanity, and I am sure that, when you have thought it over coolly, you
will see that it is childish for you, a boy, to imagine that you can do
any good by making this silly display.  Why, you must have been reading
some old book of chivalry and warlike adventure.  If you only knew how
ridiculous you look with that long sword buckled on, you would soon take
it off.  You look almost as absurd as Rogers here; I thought some
scarecrow had been stuck up by the gate."

"Yes, sir; that's right," growled Ben.  "Scarecrows who were going to
scare off all the crows as try to peck at his majesty the king."

"Silence, Martlet!" cried Roy, sharply.  "It is not your place to speak
to Master Pawson like that."

"I should think not," said the secretary, with his face flushing
slightly.

"Beg pardon, sir, a slip: not mutiny," said Ben.

"No, but insolence on the part of a menial," cried Master Pawson; "and
if it is repeated, I shall ask Lady Royland to dismiss you, sir, at
once."

"And my mother would refuse to dismiss so old and faithful a servant,"
said Roy, warmly.

The secretary looked at the boy wonderingly again, and his eyes
darkened; but he smiled the next moment.

"Come, come, Roy!" he said.  "Pray leave off this nonsense, and have the
gate left open.  Send the men back to their work.  You will thank me for
giving you this advice to-morrow."

"No, Master Pawson, I shall not," said Roy, firmly.  "The gate will be
kept locked; no one will be allowed to pass without the word, and
to-night the drawbridge will be raised; by to-morrow, I dare say, we
shall be able to lower the portcullis."

"Are you mad, my boy?"

"I hope not, sir."

"Do you mean to tell me that you will not listen to my advice?"

"Yes, sir; I cannot."

"Then, my good lad, I must be severe.  I have tried gentle means.  As
your tutor, in whose charge you have been left by your father, I command
you to give up all this silly mummery.  You have something better to do
than to waste time over such childish tricks.  Go to your room, and stay
there for a while before you come to mine with an apology.  Quick!  At
once!"

He stood, looking very important, as he gave a quick stamp and pointed
towards the castle.

"You, Jenkin, go and put that sword away!  Rogers and Martlet, go back
to your work at once!"

"Stop!" said Roy, firmly, as the men looked at him for help.  "Keep as
you are.  Master Pawson is my tutor, but he has no right to give you any
orders.--I must ask you, sir, to go to your room, and not to interfere
with what is going on around."

"Hah!" ejaculated Ben, expelling a tremendous pent-up breath, and he
turned and winked at Rogers and Jenk, though the poor old gate-keeper
could not see.

"The boy is mad," cried Master Pawson, flushing angrily now.  "This is
beyond bearing.  An act of rebellion.  Once more, sir, will you obey
me?"

"Obey you, Master Pawson?  In my studies, yes.  Over the business of the
castle, no!"

"I am striving to save you from being ridiculed by the whole district,
sir, and I appeal to you not to force me to have you humbled by going in
to complain to Lady Royland."

"You will not humble me, sir, by going in to complain to my mother, for
she endorses everything I have done."

"Her ladyship does!" cried Master Pawson, looking quite aghast.

"Of course.  All this is by my father's orders."

"Absurd, boy!  Your father has given no such orders."

"Indeed!" said Roy, flushing angrily at the contradiction.  "You have
not been at home, sir, or you would have seen his messengers, three
troopers, ride up this morning, from his regiment, who will stay to help
us strengthen the place.  There they are!  I hope you don't think they
look ridiculous in their uniforms."

For, as he was speaking, the three men, rested now and refreshed, had
marched from the servants' hall to where the new recruits were drawn up,
and stood there waiting for their captain to return.

For a few moments Master Pawson's face dropped, and he stared in his
utter astonishment.

But he recovered himself quickly, and said, with a smile--

"Of course I did not know of this, my dear boy, especially as it all was
while I have been away.  As your father has given the orders in his
letter,--and I am very glad that your mother has heard at last,--of
course there is nothing to be done, unless her ladyship can be brought
to see how unnecessary it all is, and likely to cause trouble and
misconstruction among the neighbours.  I am sure that if Sir Granby
could be here now, he would see that it was needless.  Whatever troubles
may arise, nothing can disturb us in this secluded spot.  There, I will
go now to attend to my reading.  When you have done playing at
soldiers," he added, with a slightly mocking emphasis upon the
"playing", "perhaps you will join me, Roy.  You will get tired of
handling swords too large for your hand, but of studies you can never
weary.  _Au revoir_.  I am sorry we had this little misunderstanding."

He patted Roy on the shoulder and walked on across the drawbridge, as if
not perceiving that his pupil followed him; and as he drew near the
servants, ranged rather awkwardly in their fresh habiliments, he smiled
in a way which made every man shrink and feel far more uncomfortable
than he had been made by his stiff buff coat.  But as he passed the
three troopers,--fine, manly-looking, seasoned fellows, who wore their
uniforms as if to the manner born, and who drew themselves up and
saluted him, evidently looking upon him as one of the important
personages of the house,--he ceased to smile, and went on to his study
in the north-west tower, looking very serious and much disturbed in
mind.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

GUNS AND NO POWDER?

Very little more was done with the men that day, for, in spite of Roy's
spirited behaviour, he felt afterwards that Master Pawson had cast a
damp upon the proceedings.  Still, he knew that something must be done
to counteract that sneering smile distributed among the men by the
tutor; and upon his return to the rank he walked to and fro, and
expressed his satisfaction at the promptitude they had displayed, and,
after ordering them to assemble at nine the next morning, he dismissed
them.  For the messenger had returned with the village carpenter, who
took one of the old capstan-bars for a pattern, and undertook to have
half a dozen new ones of the strongest oak made by the next morning.

Then there was the greasing of the drawbridge chains and rollers to see
to, and, when this was successfully done, Roy found to his satisfaction
that the men could raise or lower it with, if not ease, at all events
without much difficulty.

To the boy's great delight, he found that the three troopers dropped
into their places in the most easy manner, obeying his every order with
alacrity and displaying all the readiness of well-drilled men.  They
began by assisting at once with the cleaning and easing of the
drawbridge chains, one of them, after stripping off his coat, gorget,
and cap, climbing the supports to apply the lubricant to the rollers
from outside, where they needed it most; and when, that evening, Ben
suggested that one of the guns standing in the pleasaunce should be
examined, they made the servants stare by the deft way in which they
helped him to handle the ponderous mass of metal, hitching on ropes and
dragging it out from where it had lain half-covered with ivy to where it
was now planted, so that it could be made to sweep the road-way
approaching the bridge; the other one in the garden being afterwards
treated in the same way.

"Well, yes, sir, they're pretty heavy," said the corporal, in answer to
a compliment passed by Roy upon the ease with which the work had been
done; "but it isn't all strength that does it.  It's knack--the way of
handling a thing and all putting your muscle into it together."

"Ay, that's it," said Ben.  "That's what you see in a good charge.  If
it's delivered in a scattering sort o' way it may do good, but the
chance is it won't.  But if the men ride on shoulder to shoulder and
knee to knee, and then give point altogether--"

"Yes, as Sir Granby Royland's regiment can," said the corporal, proudly.

"Ay, and always did," cried Ben, excitedly.  "It takes something to
stand against 'em."

There was a dead silence then, and Roy's heart beat fast, for the war
spirit was getting hold of him tightly, for his eyes flashed, and his
eagerness to go on with the preparations grew stronger every hour.

"Now, about these guns, sergeant?" he said.

Ben's eyes twinkled as his rank was mentioned, and he gave his young
master a grateful look.

"Well, sir," he said, "they've been fast asleep in that garden all these
years, with enough ivy over 'em to keep 'em warm in winter and the sun
off 'em in summer; but, now they've been woke up, I believe they'll bark
as loudly and bite as well as any dogs of their size.  If they'd been
cast iron, I should have been for putting a very light charge in 'em and
standing a good way off when they were fired, but, seeing as they're
regular good brass guns and not a bit worn, all they want is a good
cleaning up, and then they'll be fit to do their work like--like--well,
sir, like guns.  What do you say, corporal?"

"I say they're a fine and sound pair o' guns, sergeant, as'll do their
work.  We should like a night's rest first, but in the morning my two
lads and me will give 'em a good scour up, and you won't know 'em
again."

"Right!  If the captain says yes, you shall; but I want to be with you--
I'm armourer here."

"Oh, of course, sergeant," said the trooper.  "Don't you think we want
to take your place."

"I don't, my lad," said the old soldier, warmly; "and I'm only too glad
to have three comrades out of the reg'lars to stand by me and help me to
lick the recruits into shape."

"Thank ye, sergeant," said the man.  "We four can soon do that.  They're
the right stuff, and only want a bit o' training."  Then, turning and
saluting Roy respectfully, he went on: "Sir Granby give us all a
talking-to, sir, and said he'd picked us out because we--I mean
t'others--was the handiest fellows he knew in the regiment, and he hoped
we'd do our best to get things in a good state of defence.  And, of
course, sir, we shall."

The great, manly fellow spoke with a simple modesty that made Ben's eyes
sparkle, and he nodded his head and remained silent when the man had
ended, but gave vent to his satisfaction by bringing his hand down
heavily upon the trooper's shoulder.

"We'll see to the other guns now then," said Roy.

"Yes, sir," said Ben, promptly.  "Forward there to the sou'-east tower."

The three men marched off at once in the direction pointed out, and Ben
stopped back for a moment or two to whisper to Roy, in a quick, vexed
manner--

"Don't go on saying we'll do this next, or we'll do that next, sir, as
if you was asking a favour of us.  You're captain and castellan, as they
calls him.  You're governor and everything, and you've got to order us
to do things sharp, short, and strong."

"But I don't want to bully you all, Ben," cried Roy.

"Nobody wants you to, sir.  You can't be bullying a man when you're
ordering him sharply to do what's right.  Of course, if you ask us in
your civil way to do a thing, we shall do it, but it aren't correct."

"I'll try differently, Ben."

"Sergeant, sir!"

"Ser-_geant_," said Roy.  "But it's all so new yet, I can't quite
realise it.  And, of course, I'm so young to be ordering big men about."

"You've the right to do it, sir, and that's everything.  Now, just
suppose the enemy was in front playing up ruination and destruction, and
your father was going to charge 'em with his regiment of tough dragoons,
do you think he'd say, `Now, my men, I want you to--or I'd like you to
attack those rapscallions yonder'?  Not he.  He'd just say a word to the
trumpeter, there'd be a note or two blown, and away we'd go at a walk;
another blast, and we should trot; then another, and away we should be
at 'em like a whirlwind, and scatter 'em like leaves.  You must learn to
order us, sir, sharply.  Mind, sir, it's _must_!"

"Very well," said Roy.

"Don't you be afraid, sir; let us have your order sharp, whatever it is,
and we'll do it."

"Then don't stand chattering there, sir!" cried Roy, fiercely.  "Can't
you see those three men are waiting for you at the bottom of the tower?
Forward!"

"Ck!"

It was an unspeakable ejaculation which came from the old soldier's
throat as he turned sharply and marched off to the men, chuckling to
himself and shaking his shoulders as he went.

"He'll do," he muttered; and then aloud, "Up with you, my lads!"

Ben followed the men, and Roy came last, and, as he entered the
door-way, he thought of the journey down to the powder-magazine, and
felt a little shame at his nervousness.

Then up and up past the two floors and on towards the roof.  As he
reached the door-way leading out on to the battlements, he stood in the
gloomy interior, and looked along the roof of the untenanted portion
towards the north-west tower, wondering what Master Pawson was doing.

He was not left in doubt, for he could just see the secretary standing
back from one of the narrow windows scanning the tower he was in,
evidently having seen them enter, and watching to see what they were
about to do.

A bit of boyishness entered into Roy just then, brought about by the
business he was upon and the work he had been engaged in.

"I should like to startle him," he said to himself, as he gave his
mischievous thought play.  "One might load and train one of the guns,
and fire the blank charge aimed just over his head.  It would startle
him."

The thought passed away directly, and he went up to the roof, where the
four men were together upon the platform examining the two guns facing
the embrasures.

These were not quite so big as the two standing now beneath the
gate-way, but, for the date, they were of a pretty good size, and having
the wood-work of the mounting in excellent condition.

"Well, how do they look?"  Roy asked.

"Better than I thought, sir.  They'll do.  Only want a good cleaning.
If you think a charge or two ought to be fired, sir, as was talked
about, shall it be with one of these?"

"If--yes; fire them both," said Roy; and then he felt astonished at the
fact that what he had imagined in mischief was really to be carried out.

"Next order, sir?" said Ben, gazing in his captain's face.

"See to the other guns on the north-east and south-west towers."

"Yes, sir.  What's to be done with the two as was slung down when Master
Pawson's rooms was furnished?"

"Sling them up again," cried Roy, promptly.  "It is necessary now."

Ben gave his leg a slap and looked his satisfaction.

"Wouldn't like the two big guns hoisted over the gate-way, sir, I
s'pose?"

"No, certainly not," cried Roy; "they will be of more value to sweep the
approach of the castle.  I'll have them kept there.  Plenty of room to
fire on each side of the drawbridge if it's up, and the muzzles would
run through the square openings in the portcullis."

Old Ben stared at him round eyed, and shook his head; then he chuckled
softly, and, muttering to himself his former words, "He'll do," he led
the men to the south-west tower, upon whose platform three brass guns
were mounted, and then to the north-east, where there were three more.

Twelve guns in all for the defence of the castle; but the question was,
would the ammunition be of any use?  Balls there were in abundance, for,
in addition to piles standing pyramidally at the foot of each tower,
half-covered now by flowers and shrubs, there were similar piles close
to the carriage of each gun.  But the vital force of the gun, the energy
that should set the ball whizzing through the air, was the question, and
to prove this, Ben asked for an order, and then walked with his young
captain to the armoury, where he opened the great closet.  One of the
kegs was brought out and set down upon the broad oak table.

"I've been thinking, sir, that perhaps it would be best to fire the big
guns under the gate-way to-night."

"Why?" asked Roy.

"Because we know their carriages are right, and I'm a bit doubtful about
those upon the tower."

"Very well; try the powder in those."

"Yes, I hope I shall," said Ben; "but I'm a bit scared, sir."

"What! about the danger of opening the keg?"

"Tchah! no, sir.  I can open that safely enough.  It only means
loosening the two hoops at the end, and then the heading will slip out.
I mean this--the barrels have been down there no one knows how long, and
what I want to know is, will it be powder after all?"

"Not powder after all!" cried Roy in astonishment, as his active mind
began to question what liquor it could be there that was stored up so
carefully as if it were a treasure indeed.

"I'm afraid it won't be, sir--very much afraid."

"Then what do you think it is?"

"Solid blocks o' stony stuff, sir, I should say."

"But they don't put stony stuff in kegs like these."

"No, sir, powder; but perhaps it has got damp with time and hardened so
as it won't be of any use."

"Not if it's dried and ground up again."

"Don't know, sir; can't say; but we'll soon see."  There was no
hesitation shown.  Ben tapped the two top hoops a little, and they soon
grew loose and were worked up the staves; the top one withdrawn, and the
next brought up into its place, having the wooden disc which formed the
head free to be lifted out.

"I thought so, sir," said Ben with a sigh, as he looked in.  "Just solid
black, and nothing else."

He thumped the top of the contents with his knuckles, and then tapping
the lower hoops they glided down and the staves fell apart, leaving a
black block standing upon the table.

"Oh, this is bad luck, sir! horribly bad luck!" groaned Ben.  "We shall
have to get some powder from somewhere, Plymouth or--yes, Bristol's the
most likely place."

"Fetch out the other keg, and open that, Ben," said Roy.  "To be sure,
sir," said Ben, and he turned to the closet and bore the second keg to
the table.  "If this is all right," he went on, "there's some hope for
us, because we may find some more; but if it has gone bad from both
sides it's all over with us: we can only stand well on the towers and
throw stones down at whoever comes."

Ben's fingers were as busy as his tongue, and in a few minutes he had
the head out of the second keg, looked in, and tapped it with his
knuckles.

"Just the same, sir, just the same."

"Look here, Ben!  I'll have one of these blocks chopped up, and then
ground up fine, and we'll try it with a musket."

"Good, sir! that's the right thing to do; but after being wet once, I'm
afraid it'll fizz off now like a firework."

"You don't know till you've tried, man.  Now, let's see: get an axe,
sergeant."

"If I might ask your pardon, captain, axes aren't the proper thing to
break up a block of gunpowder.  I should say a beetle or a mall was the
thing."

"Well, get a mallet, then," said Roy; and the old man went to his tools
used for repairing the armour, carpentering, or any other odd jobs, and
brought out a mallet, with which he was about to strike a tremendous
blow in the middle of the block, when Roy checked him.

"No, no!" he cried; "give it to me.  I'll knock a piece off the top
edge."

Ben handed the mallet respectfully enough, but he shook his head as if
he did not consider that handling mallets was correct for the castellan
of the place; while raising the implement not without some shade of
doubt as to whether an explosion might follow the blow, but reassuring
himself as he remembered that the mallet was only wood, Roy brought it
down on the top with a sharp rap, and then started back in dismay, for a
piece like a fragment of black potsherd fell upon the table with a bang,
and a stream of fine grains came flowing out of the great hole he had
made, covering the hardened piece and running on like black sand.

"Hurrah!" shouted Ben, excitedly; "they're all right, sir.  Just formed
a cake outside, and the inside's all safe and good.  Twelve good brass
guns, and plenty of powder.  We're ready for all the enemies the king
has got in this part of the world.  Now we'll see for a couple of
cartridges for the guns."

He fetched a couple of small bags, which he filled with the powder, and
then, after putting back the unbroken keg-shaped block, as carefully
cleared all the loose powder from the table, and placed that and the
shape from which it had come in the oak closet, which he locked.

"Powder's powder, sir; so one has to take care," he said.  "Now for a
touch port-fire, and we'll try what sort of stuff it is."

Ben gave Roy a knowing look, and then from a drawer in the table he took
a piece of prepared oakum such as was used for lowering into the pan of
a freshly primed gun, stepped to a case in which were some old rammers,
and declared himself ready to start, but hesitated and went to his
tool-drawer again, out of which he routed a long thin spike.

"Now I think we're ready, sir," he said, and they went out to where the
men were waiting, and prepared to load the two guns under the gate
tower.

"These are only makeshifts," said Ben, apologetically, as he indicated
his rough cartridges; "but they'll do to clear out the guns," and he set
them down in the door-way leading into the old guard-room.

Then the long thin pin was tried in the touch-holes of both guns, and
after a good deal of poking and drilling the orifices were cleared.
Meanwhile, one of the troopers took the rammer Ben had brought out,
inserted it at the muzzle, and found that it would only go in half-way.
So a ragged stick was fetched, run in, twisted round and round, and
withdrawn, dragging after it a wad of horsehair, cotton, hay, and
feathers, while a succession of trials brought out more and more, the
twisting round having a cleansing effect upon the bore of the gun as
well.

"Ah!" said Ben, solemnly, "them tomtits have had the guns all to
themselves for a fine time.  I shall have to make some tompions to keep
them out."

Quite a heap of nest-building material was drawn out of the two guns,
the first obtained being evidently of that season, while farther in it
was old and decayed to a mere mouldy powder that might have been carried
in by the industrious little birds a score of years before.

At last all was declared clear.  The bags of powder were thrust in, a
wad of the cleanest hay from the heap followed, and one of the troopers
rammed the charges home, with the result that the powder rose well in
the touch-holes, and nothing remained to be done but to insert the
lightly twisted pieces of touch-string and apply a light.

"Better way than doing it with a red-hot poker, as some of us might like
to stand back till the guns are proved," said the old soldier, grimly.
"One of you take that there to the kitchen and get a light," he said,
"to do for a port-fire."

He handed a piece of the prepared oakum to one of the men, who ran off
with it, and directly after Roy stepped back quickly and hurried into
the house.

Ben said nothing, but he glanced after the boy with a fierce look,
pursing up his lips, and then muttering to himself, his expression
indicating the most profound disgust.

Meanwhile, Roy ran into the private apartments of the castle, and made
his way to the library; but Lady Royland was not there.

Uttering an ejaculation full of impatience, the boy hurried into the
withdrawing-room, where he had better fortune, for he found his mother
waiting there as if she expected him.

"You, my dear?" she said.  "I was waiting here to see Master Pawson; he
sent me a message to ask if I would see him on matters of importance.
Do you know what he wishes to say?"

"Well, I almost think I do, mother," replied the boy.

"Then you have come to meet him?"

"No," said the boy; "I didn't know he had sent.  I came to warn you not
to be alarmed, for we are just going to fire."

_Boom_!

A report like thunder made the casements rattle as if they were being
dashed in.  This was followed by an echoing roar, and then came a
yelling cry as of some one in agony.

"Oh, my boy, what has happened?" cried Lady Royland, starting from her
chair, clapping her hands to her ears, and then sinking back palpitating
in the nearest chair.  "Run and see; something terrible must have
occurred."

Roy had already dashed to the door, and he ran out and along to the
great gate-way, where his mother's words seemed to be verified, for, on
reaching the spot where the gun which had been fired had run back a
short distance, there was the knot of men half hidden by the smoke that
was slowly rising, and in front of them, just below the portcullis, lay,
apparently lifeless, the figure of Master Pawson, face downward upon the
flags.

"What have you done, Ben?" cried the boy.

"Done?  I never done it," growled the man, fiercely.  "You runned away;
so I put the light to the gun myself, and then we all stood and waited,
till all at wunst Master Pawson comes round the corner like.  I dunno
how he come there; and off goes the gun and down goes he."

Roy was already upon one knee, turning the secretary over on his back
and examining him for the terrible injury he felt must have been
received.  But as Roy was proceeding to open his collar, he opened his
eyes, sprang up into a sitting position, and then began to abuse the boy
fiercely.

"You did it on purpose," he cried; "and it's a mercy it did not kill
me."

"Then you are not killed?" said Roy, dryly.

"No; but I might have been.  It was a cowardly thing to do."

"Ay, it were, Master Roy!" whispered Ben, turning upon him.  "I thought
you'd ha' had heart enough to ha' stood by us."

"What do you mean?" cried Roy, rising angrily.

"Oh, you know, sir; sets such a bad example to the men."

"I don't understand you; nor you neither, Master Pawson."

"It's disgraceful; and Lady Royland shall put a stop to such monkey
tricks."

"Powder-monkey tricks," growled Ben.

"Why, you don't think I fired that gun on purpose, sir?"

"No, I don't think so," cried Master Pawson, in his high-pitched,
scolding tone; "I am quite sure, sir; and it is disgraceful."

"But I wasn't here!"

"You were there.  I saw you with the men, pretending to clean the gun,
while I was yonder watching the sunset and waiting for an answer to a
message I had sent in to your mother, sir, when, as you saw me come
round the corner, you fired."

"I did not, sir; for I was not there."

"Ay, that's true enough, sir," said Ben, bitterly; "he warn't here."

"I don't believe it," cried Master Pawson, angrily, and his voice
sounded like that of some angry woman.  "It was a trick; and all this
nonsense shall be put a stop to."

"You can believe it or not, sir," said Roy, growing calmer as the
secretary waxed more angry.

"I shall speak to Lady Royland at once."

"Do, sir.  She is waiting to see you; she was telling me so when the gun
went off."

"Gun went off!  And what business has a gun to go off here in this
place?" cried the secretary, as he stood, now feeling himself all over
and brushing the dust from off his velvet coat.

"Only got the wind of the gun, sir," said the corporal, quietly.

"I was not speaking to you, my good man," cried the secretary.

"Bad plan to stand nigh the muzzle of a big gun when she's going to be
fired," growled Ben, in a sententious voice, and the secretary turned
upon him sharply.

"And you, sir," he cried; "how dare you let a boy play such antics?  Do
you know I heard the shot go by my face."

"Nay, sir; that I'll say you didn't," growled Ben.

"But I say I did, sir, with a fierce rush."

"One of the tomtits' eggs, perhaps, sergeant," said Roy, dryly.  "I know
I caught sight of one or two when the nest was rammed in."

The men all burst out laughing, and Master Pawson grew preternaturally
calm.

"Was that meant as an insult, Master Roy?" he said, turning towards him
and speaking slowly, with his eyes half shut and an unpleasant, sneering
smile upon his lips.

"No, sir; as a joke," replied Roy, gravely.

"I thank you; but keep your jokes for the servants; try them upon the
menials.  Recollect that I am a gentleman, placed in authority over you
by Sir Granby Royland as tutor and master, and, as I am in authority
over you, I am in authority over all here.  Have the goodness to
recollect that."

He turned upon his heel and walked away, with the back of his doublet
covered with scraps of hay from the tomtits' nest, and Roy's first
inclination was to run after him to begin brushing him down.

"But he'll only think I want to insult him again," said the boy to
himself.  "I wish I hadn't said anything about the tomtits' eggs,
though."

"Shall I run after him, sir, and ask if I shall give him a brush down?"
whispered Ben.

"No; let him find it out.  One of the maids will tell him, I dare say."

"But you should ha' stopped by us when the gun was fired, Master Roy,"
protested Ben.  "I see them three chaps wink at each other, as much as
to say, `He won't stand fire,' and it hurt me, sir, and seemed to be
undoing all I did afore.  I didn't think it of you."

"I should like to kick you for thinking me such a coward," cried Roy,
fiercely, for his encounter with the secretary had set his temper on
edge.  "How dare you!  You had no business to fire till I came back.  I
did not want my mother to hear the report without some warning.--Here,
corporal, give me that light."

The man stepped up with it, and Roy took it out of his hand.

"Going to fire this one, sir?" said Ben, eagerly.

"Of course.  Stand aside!"  And Roy applied the sparkling port-fire to
the bit of prepared oakum standing out of the touch-hole, with the
result that it, too, began to sparkle and fume.

"There," he said; "I hope Master Pawson won't come back and be
frightened by this one."

He had hardly uttered the words when the secretary reappeared.

"Where are all the servants?" he cried, angrily.  "I want some one to
come and brush my clothes."

"Stand aside!" shouted Ben.  "She'll run right back."

But the secretary did not understand what was meant, and turned
haughtily upon the speaker, totally unconscious of the fact that he was
exactly behind the breech of the piece, whose recoil might have produced
fatal results.

It was no time for uttering warnings, and Roy knew it.  He glanced once
at the tiny sparkling going on at the touch-hole of the gun, and sprang
right at the secretary, driving him backward and falling heavily with
him to the ground.

It was none too soon, for the gun went off with a tremendous roar,
leaping up from the paving and running back on its low wheels right over
the spot where the secretary had just stood.

"Guns is guns, and always was," said Ben, very grimly; "and them as has
to do with 'em wants to know all their little ways.  I have know'd a
man's arm took off by the recoil, and, if you don't take care, their
breeches is as dangerous to them as fires 'em as is their muzzles."

"Hurt, sir?" cried Roy, offering his hand after gaining his own feet,
ready to help the tutor to rise.

Master Pawson made no reply, neither did he take the extended hand, but
rose and walked away limping, going right down through the pleasaunce so
as to reach his own room without having to pass through the corridor.

"Bit rusty, I s'pose, sir," said Ben, quietly.

"I am afraid so, Ben," was the reply.  "But I don't think there's much
doubt about the powder."

"Doubt, sir; why, it's stronger than they makes now, or else it has got
riper and better for keeping.  We're all right there."

"Yes, capital! but that report rings in my ears still."

"Ay, sir, a brass gun can ring as well as roar; but you won't mind it
after a few times."

"I don't feel to mind it now," said Roy, coolly.

"Not you, sir," whispered the old fellow.  "And I beg your pardon,
Master Roy, and you've done me, and yourself too, a lot of good.  It
would ha' been horrid for the men to think you was scared.  I never
thought of frightening my lady with the row.  Tell the lads to sponge
the guns out with a bit o' rag, and then we'll run 'em back to their
places again."

Roy gave the order, and then had the sentry changed at the gate, after
which there was another duty to have performed,--that of raising the
drawbridge.

"No fear of any one forgetting and walking into the moat at night, is
there, Ben?"

"Well, no, sir; I think not," said the old soldier, seriously.  "You
see, the bridge shuts up all the middle when it's raised, and that makes
it sure, while at those sides nobody could tumble in without trying to;
so I don't see no fear of that.  Shall we haul her up, sir?"

"Yes."  And giving the order, as soon as the guns were in place, he led
the way up into the furnace-chamber, where two men seized each chain,
and the ponderous structure slowly rose as the huge weights descended
the stone-work tubes in which they hung, the difficulty of hoisting the
bridge proving to be much lighter than at the former trial.

"Come, sir, that's safe.  You won't set sentries to-night?"

"No, of course not," said Roy; "that will be unnecessary till there is
news of some enemy being near."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE COMING OF RECRUITS.

The next morning the carpenter was there with the capstan bars soon
after the bridge was lowered; and upon these being tried, after the
capstans and pulleys had been well greased, the portcullis was lowered
and raised several times with the greatest facility, each time becoming
more easy to move, while old Ben's eyes glistened, and he worked as if
all these preparations for the defence of the place, with the possible
shedding of blood and loss of life, had suddenly added a delightful zest
to his existence.

But he was not alone in this, for Roy found a strange exhilaration in
his new position.  There was something so novel in everything, and try
how he would, it was hard to keep down a feeling of vanity, especially
when he came upon his mother busily preparing a scarf for him to wear.

"For me?" he said.  "Oh, mother! it's too fine."

"Not at all," she said, quietly.  "Your men will like to see their
leader look striking."

"Ah, well," he replied, "I can't wear it while there is so much dirty
work to do."

"That will be done by the men.  Roy, my boy, you must rise to your
position, and give orders more for things to be done."

"That's what old Ben says, and I am trying; but it's hard work while
everything is so new, and--"

"And what?"

"It seems as if Master--Oh, no; it's too paltry to be talked about."

"Tell me what it is, and I will be the judge."

"Well, you know how poor Master Pawson was upset with the firing?"

"Yes; and he ought to be very grateful to you for saving his life.  Has
he not thanked you?"

"No; unless looking sneeringly at everything I do is thanking me.  That
makes it seem so hard to put on a showy thing like that.  He'll only
laugh at it."

"Master Pawson is not behaving well," said Lady Royland, coldly.  "He
actually had the impertinence to speak to me last night about the
preparations, and objected to the men being taken from their work."

"Said it was absurd?"

"Yes; those were his words, Roy, and I was compelled to silence him.  He
told me he was sure that if Sir Granby knew how utterly unlikely it was
for any of the disaffected people to come into this neighbourhood he
would immediately cancel the orders, and, under the circumstances, he
could not refrain from advising me to act according to his advice."

"And what was his advice, mother?"

"To put a stop to the foolish preparations, which could only bring
ridicule upon all here."

"He said something of the kind to me; more than I told you."

"Why did you not tell me all?"

"Because it seemed so paltry."

"Nothing is too paltry when we have so much at stake, Roy."

"And was that the end of it?"

"No, my boy; he made me indignant by his presumption, and I told him to
remember who he was."

"What did he say to that?"

"Begged my pardon humbly, and said that perhaps I was right, and that he
would do everything he could to help me in this painful situation.  I am
glad he has spoken out and forced me to be plain.  Now he will keep his
place."

"Yes, he will now," said Roy.  "I know what he felt; of course he was
annoyed at my taking the lead, after his going out leaving me only his
pupil, and coming back to find me seeming to do exactly as I pleased.
But I must go, mother, for there is such a lot to do.  Don't ask me to
begin wearing silk and gold and feathers yet, though, please."

Lady Royland smiled proudly as she kissed her son, and Roy hurried back
to his lieutenant, who was anxiously expecting him.

"Farmer Raynes has come over, sir, to see you.  Wanted to know what the
guns were fired for."

"Where is he?"

"Yonder, sir, watching the corporal drill the men."

Roy went to the gate-way, where the trooper was busy at work drilling
the men in the use of their firelocks, adding to his verbal instructions
the examples of the two soldiers who came with him, these falling in
just in front, and executing every order in the carriage of the piece,
loading and firing, so that the servants could more easily understand.

"Morning, Master Roy," said the farmer, stepping out of the guard-room
door-way.  "Heard the guns last night, and couldn't make out where the
noise come from.  Found out this morning, though, and run over.  Mean
fighting, then, if they come here?"

"Certainly," said Roy.  "My father sent word for us to be prepared.  I
was going to send for you this morning.  I want your men and you to come
in, and be ready in case you are wanted."

"Parson Meldew came and had a long talk with me day before yesterday,
sir, and he told me that whatever I did I was to stay peacefully at
home, mind my crops, and not interfere at all.  But if I did, I was not
to side with the king."

"He dared to tell you that?" cried Roy.

"Not quite in those words, sir, but he meant it."

"Oh, if he wasn't a clerk, I'd say something," cried Roy; "but what did
you say?"

"Nothing, sir; I only laughed."

"And do you mean to stay at home and do what he told you?"

"Of course, sir, unless there's some fighting comes on, and then I
suppose we shall have to begin."

"Against the king?"

"I'm going to fight for my good old landlord, Master Roy, the best man I
know.  He always stood my friend in hard times, and if he sends word I
am to, why, here I be with ten stout fellows, only you'll have to drill
us all, same as you're doing with these here, unless pitchforks and
flails will do; we can handle them."

"Shake hands, Master Raynes," cried Roy; "I want you and the men to come
and drill every day in the mornings, and I want you to bring us in as
much wheat, oats, and flour as we can store up.  You must buy when you
have not plenty, for we must be ready in case we are attacked."

"What do you say to me going round and buying up all the ham and bacon
and salt pork I can get, sir?"

"Yes, certainly," cried Roy.  "My mother will supply the money."

"Oh, that's all right enough, sir," said the farmer.  "But of course you
don't want us to come and live in the place until there's real trouble."

"Certainly not.  Give half your time to getting ready for troubles, and
the other half to the farm."

"I see, sir.  Ah, morning, Master Pawson.  Wild times these."

"Terrible, Master Raynes, terrible," said the secretary, coming up.
"Are you going to be drilled too?"

Roy glanced sharply round, but the secretary spoke earnestly, and with
no suggestion of a sneer.

"Yes, sir, me and my men must come and support my landlord, spite of all
th

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