room.
“Well before sundown, sir. And all his gentlemen with him.”
“Ah!” The ejaculation held all the relief of one who has been enduring a torment of anxiety, and orders followed in premeditated spate. “Bolt the gates for the night, and keep them bolted. No one is to go out even during daylight without a pass from Captain Rolph or myself. No one, save members of my own household. Double the guard and make half-hourly inspection of the battlements. Ask Captain Rolph to report to my room immediately. And have a couple of men stand by at the windlass of the outer portcullis.”
“Now, by Heaven, what foul fiend has bitten him?” demanded a hirsute giant of a trooper, poking a cautious head out of the guardroom as soon as the Governor was out of earshot.
“It seems the royal bird meant to fly the cage,” Rudy told him, sliding from his saddle. “There’s been a French ship hanging around Southampton, very suspicious like. Colonel got wind of it somehow just after the Commissioners had left, so me and him went cantering down to the quay to see if there was any sign of a strange ship on this side waiting to take the Stuart over. Else we’d ha’ been back before now.”
“And did you find any strange craft?”
“Not a smell of one. Only the usual barges being unloaded for local merchants. Two of ’em offered to help us. Said they knew every craft that had a right to tie up in Medina river. And a long-winded pair they was, wasting the Colonel’s time and he fair sweatin’ with impatience.”
“Which merchants were they?” asked Floyd, from the foot of the winding stone stairs which led up to the portcullis chamber.
Rudy took off his helmet and scratched the damp hair on his forehead. “Newland and Trattle, or some such outlandish names, so far as I can remember. Why did you want to know, Sergeant?”
But Sergeant Floyd did not satisfy his curiosity. “Bring me half a dozen more muskets from the armoury and see that all the guardroom lanterns are replenished before you go off duty,” he ordered curtly.
He had been about to go off duty himself. He would have liked a word with his sister and had been looking forward to spending a quiet hour with his daughter; but with this new development and the Governor behaving as though some foul fiend had indeed bitten him, he would be lucky if he got to bed this night.
Mary, hoping that he would come, had been sitting alone in the housekeeper’s room, stitching by candlelight. She was making a belated wedding-dress for Libby, who was to be married as soon as the Commissioners were gone and the Governor’s young chaplain, Troughton, was freed from the additional duty of helping to entertain them. As her needle moved in and out of the soft homespun material a small, secret smile curved her mouth—but it was not of Libby’s happiness that she was thinking. She was going over again the happy hours of Christmas afternoon when Harry Firebrace had walked down with her into Newport. It had been his suggestion that they should walk, and she recalled with pleasure how delicately the bare branches of the beech trees had been etched against a pale sky and how the frosty fields had sparkled as the great red ball of a wintry sun went down. And with a special secret delight she remembered how, when she had slipped a little on a frozen patch going down the steep lane, he had pulled her arm through his to steady her.
True, her happiness had faded a little as they approached the “Rose and Crown.” Although political opinions had not seemed to matter before the coming of the King, feeling now ran as high as upon the mainland, and she had been afraid that Mistress Trattle would not welcome one of “Cromwell’s minions” as she termed them. And she had been afraid, too, of Frances Trattle’s charms. For had not Firebrace suggested the visit in the first place because he wanted to meet the girl who had had the lovely thought to give the King a rose? And was he not the
“Well before sundown, sir. And all his gentlemen with him.”
“Ah!” The ejaculation held all the relief of one who has been enduring a torment of anxiety, and orders followed in premeditated spate. “Bolt the gates for the night, and keep them bolted. No one is to go out even during daylight without a pass from Captain Rolph or myself. No one, save members of my own household. Double the guard and make half-hourly inspection of the battlements. Ask Captain Rolph to report to my room immediately. And have a couple of men stand by at the windlass of the outer portcullis.”
“Now, by Heaven, what foul fiend has bitten him?” demanded a hirsute giant of a trooper, poking a cautious head out of the guardroom as soon as the Governor was out of earshot.
“It seems the royal bird meant to fly the cage,” Rudy told him, sliding from his saddle. “There’s been a French ship hanging around Southampton, very suspicious like. Colonel got wind of it somehow just after the Commissioners had left, so me and him went cantering down to the quay to see if there was any sign of a strange ship on this side waiting to take the Stuart over. Else we’d ha’ been back before now.”
“And did you find any strange craft?”
“Not a smell of one. Only the usual barges being unloaded for local merchants. Two of ’em offered to help us. Said they knew every craft that had a right to tie up in Medina river. And a long-winded pair they was, wasting the Colonel’s time and he fair sweatin’ with impatience.”
“Which merchants were they?” asked Floyd, from the foot of the winding stone stairs which led up to the portcullis chamber.
Rudy took off his helmet and scratched the damp hair on his forehead. “Newland and Trattle, or some such outlandish names, so far as I can remember. Why did you want to know, Sergeant?”
But Sergeant Floyd did not satisfy his curiosity. “Bring me half a dozen more muskets from the armoury and see that all the guardroom lanterns are replenished before you go off duty,” he ordered curtly.
He had been about to go off duty himself. He would have liked a word with his sister and had been looking forward to spending a quiet hour with his daughter; but with this new development and the Governor behaving as though some foul fiend had indeed bitten him, he would be lucky if he got to bed this night.
Mary, hoping that he would come, had been sitting alone in the housekeeper’s room, stitching by candlelight. She was making a belated wedding-dress for Libby, who was to be married as soon as the Commissioners were gone and the Governor’s young chaplain, Troughton, was freed from the additional duty of helping to entertain them. As her needle moved in and out of the soft homespun material a small, secret smile curved her mouth—but it was not of Libby’s happiness that she was thinking. She was going over again the happy hours of Christmas afternoon when Harry Firebrace had walked down with her into Newport. It had been his suggestion that they should walk, and she recalled with pleasure how delicately the bare branches of the beech trees had been etched against a pale sky and how the frosty fields had sparkled as the great red ball of a wintry sun went down. And with a special secret delight she remembered how, when she had slipped a little on a frozen patch going down the steep lane, he had pulled her arm through his to steady her.
True, her happiness had faded a little as they approached the “Rose and Crown.” Although political opinions had not seemed to matter before the coming of the King, feeling now ran as high as upon the mainland, and she had been afraid that Mistress Trattle would not welcome one of “Cromwell’s minions” as she termed them. And she had been afraid, too, of Frances Trattle’s charms. For had not Firebrace suggested the visit in the first place because he wanted to meet the girl who had had the lovely thought to give the King a rose? And was he not the
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