Crown and Sceptre Part 56

"Well, then, my dear boy, let me set your poor weak head at rest. I know everything you did from your start until you were trapped in the wood, the enemy letting you pa.s.s one troop, and having another waiting for you at the end of the wood."

"Yes, that is how it was, and I did not take sufficient care."

"Yes, you did, my boy; your precautions were all that an officer on such a duty could take, and all that I should have taken."

"You seem to be giving me fresh life, father," whispered Fred. "But how did you know?"

"Partly from the advance guard, partly from Samson; and both join in saying that my son behaved as a gallant officer should. I am quite satisfied, my boy. I sent you upon a dangerous expedition, and in spite of the perils of your journey, you have escaped with life, and you are no longer a prisoner. In fact, we have turned the tables on the enemy again, and read them a lesson they will not forget."

"Yes; I heard the fighting, father."

"And do you know whose men they were?"

"No."

"Sir G.o.dfrey Markham's."

"Father?"

"Yes; and his son, lately your prisoner, was with them."

"And they are prisoners now?"

"No, my boy; they cut their way out with about a hundred mere, and escaped. This war is one of constant change."

"Then you are not angry with me, father?"

"On the contrary, Fred, I am proud. You acted better than many older officers would have done."

"You say that to comfort me over my disgrace."

"I say it because it is true, and because you are not in disgrace. A far more experienced man would easily have been led into such an ambush, betrayed as you were."

"Betrayed?" said Fred.

"Yes; some one must have carried information to the enemy."

"You think that?"

"Of course."

"But who could have done so? We had no traitors with us."

"Perhaps not, but the enemy may have had friends near."

"Impossible, father!"

"Quite possible, my boy. Where did you stay to refresh your men?"

"Here, father--at this very place. At least," added Fred, as he glanced round, "if this is the little inn where I was a prisoner in the loft."

"The very place, my boy; and now the secret is out. Lie still now, and don't speak."

Fred gazed at his father eagerly as he rose from his knees and crossed to the door, which he opened, pa.s.sed out on to the landing, called for the host, and returned.

Instead of the florid landlord, there was a heavy step on the stairs, and the shock-headed boy of the place entered the room to look from Fred to Colonel Forrester and back.

"Where does the nearest doctor live?" said the colonel, quietly.

"At Brownsand," replied the lad, with another sympathetic glance at the wounded officer.

"Rather a long ride?"

"Only twelve miles, sir."

"But that's where a body of the king's men lie, is it not?"

"Well, no, sir, I don't think so now. Those is them that you had to fight with. They were at Brownsand t'other day."

"You have a horse here, have you not?"

"No, sir, only a pony; and if I took the short cut it would not be a long journey."

"But could the pony do the journey to-day?"

"Do it to-day, sir? Yes; she's as hard as a stag."

"That will do for the present," said Colonel Forrester.

"Shall I ride over for the doctor, sir?"

"No. Send up your master."

The lad went down quite sulkily, and delivered his message, while Colonel Forrester smiled at his son.

"Well, Fred," he said, "I suppose you see now?"

Fred's answer was cut short off by the heavy step of the landlord, who came up with a sympathising look in his face, and seemed eager to serve.

"The young gentleman's not worse, sir, I hope."

"You are sorry for him, then?" said the colonel, quietly.

"Sorry for him, sir? Why of course I am."

"As sorry as you were for the young prisoner he brought by here."

"Oh yes, sir, I was sorry for him, too; but he was not wounded."