Crown and Sceptre Part 72

"Yes, father," said Fred; "but are we going to attack the place again soon?"

"Yes; and this time most vigorously. The nest of hornets must be cleared out, eh, Hedley?" he said, as the general came up from the rough tent erected under one of the spreading trees.

"Of what are you talking?"

"My boy, here, asks me if we are going to attack the Hall again."

"Yes; if they do not march out by to-night, and give themselves up, I shall attack, and as I shall send them word, they must expect little mercy. By the way, Forrester, I want to talk to you." The pair marched slowly away, leaving Fred to his contemplation of the Hall and its surroundings; and he seated himself upon the mossy roots of a huge beech on the slope facing the old red stone building, and gazed eagerly at the distant figures which appeared at the window openings from time to time, wondering whether either of them was Scarlett, if he was with his father, for he was not among the wounded, or whether he had escaped among the scattered Royalists after that last fierce charge.

"He is sure to be there," said the lad to himself, as he sat on the rough b.u.t.tress with his sword across his knees. "Poor old Scar! how I remember our taking down the swords and fighting, and Sir G.o.dfrey coming and catching us. It seemed a grand thing to have a sword then--much grander than it seems now," he added, as he looked gloomily at the weapon he held.

He gazed moodily across the lake again, and then thought of his father's words about his duty to his country; and his young brow grew more and more wrinkled.

"Yes," he said; "I ought to do my duty to my country. Those people can hold us off, and there'll be a desperate fight, and some of our men will be killed, and nearly all theirs. I could stop it all and make an end of the fight easily enough by doing my duty to my country. But if I did, I should be sending Sir G.o.dfrey and poor old Scar to prison, perhaps get them killed, because they would fight desperately, and I should make Lady Markham and poor little Lil miserable, and be behaving like a wretch. I don't like doing such duty."

"Let me see," continued Fred, as he gazed across the lake, "how should I do it? Easily enough. Get thirty or forty men, and take them in the old boat across to the mouth of the pa.s.sage, ten at a time. What nonsense! March them after dark round to the wilderness, pull away the boughs, drop down, and thread our way right along the old pa.s.sage into the Hall, surprise every one, and the place would be ours.

"And a nice treacherous thing to do; and I should fail," he cried joyously, "for Scar will have given me the credit of planning such a thing, and I'll be bound to say he has blocked the place up with stones.

"No; I couldn't do that, and if ever we meet again as friends, and Scar tells me he was sure I should attack them there, and that he guarded against it, I'll kick him for thinking me such a dishonourable traitor."

Fred sat musing still--wondering what the garrison were doing, and fighting hard to keep the thought of the secret pa.s.sage out of his mind.

What would his father say if he knew of the secret he was keeping back?

and conscience ran him very hard on the score of duty to his country.

"But," he said at last, "duty to one's country does not mean being treacherous to one's old friends. I'm obliged to fight against them; but I'll fight fairly and openly. I will not, duty to my country or no duty, go crawling through pa.s.sages to stab them in the dark."

It was a glorious day, succeeding two during which a western gale had been blowing, drenching the attacking party, and making everything wretched around; and as Fred rose from where he had been seated and walked slowly along by the edge of the lake towards its eastern end, the water, moor, and woodlands looked so lovely that there was a mingled feeling of joy and misery in the lad's breast.

He thought of the besieged, then of those who were in all probability still at the Manor, from which duty had kept him absent, even his father having refrained from going across, though they had had daily information as to Mistress Forrester's welfare. Fred thought then of his own position, and all the time he was gazing down into the clear water, where he could see the bar-sided perch sailing slowly about, and the great carp and tench heavily wallowing among the lily stems, and setting the great flat leaves a-quiver as they floated on the surface.

Ah, how it all brought back the pleasant old days when he and Scar used to spend so much time about the water-side!

"I wonder whether he can see me now," he muttered, as he came up to one of the little patches of woodland, and stood gazing across the lake at the ivy and bush-grown bank where the secret pa.s.sage had its opening.

"No; I don't suppose Scar would know me at this distance," he said; and he took half a dozen steps forward, to be stopped short by the rattle of arms and a sharp "Halt!"

For the moment Fred thought himself in the presence of one of the enemy, and his hand darted to the hilt of his sword; but he realised directly after that it was one of their own men posted there, and he s.h.i.+vered as he wondered whether the sentry had noted the direction of his gaze.

"Only taking a stroll round, my man," said Fred, as he gave the pa.s.sword.

"Not going into the wood, are you, sir?"

"Yes; right on, towards the Hall."

"Better take care, sir. There are some clever marksmen there, and I should get into trouble if you were hurt."

"Don't be alarmed," replied Fred, smiling. "I'll take care."

He pushed on, and the sentinel remained at his hidden post, while, as if he found a certain pleasure in revisiting the spots familiar to him in the boyish adventures with his old companion, Fred wandered listlessly here and there, meeting sentry after sentry, posted so that the besieged should not have an opportunity of getting away, or sending a messenger in search of help.

"And all the time," muttered Fred, "I know how easily a messenger could be sent, and help obtained."

He stopped short at last, with his head in a whirl, wondering which course he ought to pursue, as the thought occurred to him that he should be answerable for the injury to his own party if Scarlett did send for a.s.sistance, making use of the pa.s.sage as a means by which he could avoid the sentries.

"But he would not avoid the sentries, for they would catch the messenger all the same," he cried; "and I am driving myself half crazy about nothing, and--What's that?"

He stood listening, for it seemed to him that a low harsh moan had come from out of the dark shady woodland near where he stood.

He listened, but there was no further sound, and then he looked round, puzzled for the moment as to where he was. But he recognised certain features in the dense piece of forest directly after, and found that he had during his musings wandered in and in among the trees till he was in the old wilderness, close to the great fallen tree where they had made the discovery of the broken way into the hole.

He turned angrily away, for the thought of the secret pa.s.sage brought back his mental struggle, as to which course he ought to pursue, and flight being certainly the easiest, he was about to hurry off, when once more the low harsh moan smote his ear.

"Two boughs rubbing together," he muttered, after listening for a repet.i.tion of the sound, recalling the while what peculiarly strange noises two fretting branches would make.

"But there's no wind," he said to himself; and directly after there came the sharp chirp of a bird, and then the low moan.

It was so unmistakably a cry of pain, that Fred took a few steps forward among the dense bushes, and then looked around.

There was nothing visible, but he was not surprised, for he was close now to the hidden hole down which he had fallen when he made his jump, and crushed through part of the touchwood trunk, and everywhere there was a dense thicket of undergrowth, through which, after another pause, he forced his way.

Nothing to see--nothing to hear; and he paused again, listening intently, and bending forward in the direction of the hidden opening, as the thought struck him that the cry might come from there.

Still, there was no further sound, and feeling convinced that he had hit upon the true source of the noise, and with a s.h.i.+ver of dread running through him as a dozen terrible suggestions offered themselves in connection with the sound and with Scarlett, he was about to force his way to the hole and drag away some of the broken branches which they had heaped there, and which he could now see were intact, and with the ferns and brambles and ivy growing luxuriantly, when a fresh moan met his ear, evidently from quite another direction.

It was with a feeling of relief that he turned from the way to the pa.s.sage, and forcing his way on for some little distance, he paused again, and listened with almost a superst.i.tious dread, for the sounds heard were in the midst of the gloomy wilderness, where the foot of man rarely trod, and appealed strongly to the superst.i.tious part of the youth's nature.

In fact, after listening some time, and hearing nothing, the uncomfortable sensation increased, and he began to back away, when the sound was again heard--a harsh, wild, but very subdued cry from quite a different direction, thrilling the lad's nerves, and making him turn hastily to flee from the dark precincts.

For it was like no other sound which he had ever heard. No animal or bird could cry like that. The hedgehog, if shut up in a pit, would sometimes utter a wild strange noise, which, heard in the darkness, was startling as the shriek or hoot of an owl. But it was none of these, and giving way for the moment to ignorant superst.i.tion, Fred began to get out of the wilderness as fast as he could, till he stumbled over a briar stretched right across his way, fell heavily, and as he struggled up again, he heard the cry repeated.

"Oh, how I wish some one was here to knock me over!" he muttered angrily. "What a miserable coward I am!"

And now, fully convinced that some unhappy wounded man had crawled into the thicket to die, he went sharply back to where he had seemed nearest to the sound, and began to search once more.

It was for some time in vain, and probably he would have had to give up what seemed to be a hopeless task, had he not suddenly seen a bramble strand feebly thrust aside, and the point of a rusty sword directed toward him.

He drew his own weapon, and beat the rusty blade away, hacking through a few bramble strands, and there, deep down in a tunnel of strands and boughs, was the ghastly blood-besmeared countenance of a man, with hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and a look of weakness that strongly resembled that which, to his sorrow, he had so often seen upon the field of battle.

The wretched man seemed to make an effort to raise his rusty sword again, but it fell from his grasp, and he lay staring wildly at his finder.

"Who are you? How came you here?" began Fred, involuntarily, though he felt that he knew; and then, with a cry of surprise and horror, he dropped upon his knees beside the wounded man. "Nat, my poor fellow,"

he cried, "is it you?"

The man looked at him wildly for a few moments, as if he were dreaming, before the light of recognition came into his sunken eyes.

"Master Fred!" he whispered. "You? That's right. Put me out of my misery at once."