The King's General Part 13

I realised then that the means for entry must be from without only, a great handicap to us who used it now, but no doubt cunningly intended by the builder of the house, who had no desire for his idiot elder son to come and go at pleasure. I knocked with my fists against the wall, but they sounded not at all .I called, "John," in a low voice, expecting no answer; nor did I receive one.

This, then, was a new and hideous dilemma, for I had warned John not to attempt an entry to the chamber before I warned him first, being confident at the time that I would be able to find the entrance from inside. This I could not do, and John and d.i.c.k were in the meantime waiting in the cell below the b.u.t.tress for a signal from me. I placed my face against the stone wall, crying, "John... John..."as loudly as I dared, but I guessed, with failing heart, that the sound of my voice would never carry through the implacable stone.

Hearing footsteps in the corridor, I let the arras fall and returned to the window, where I made pretence of looking down into the court. I heard movement in my old apartment in the gatehouse and a moment later a loud knocking on the door between.

"Please enter," I called, and the roughly repaired door was pushed aside, tottering on its hinges, and Lord Robartes himself came into the room accompanied by one of his officers and also Frank Penrose, with his arms bound tight behind him.

"I regret my sudden intrusion," said Lord Robartes, "but we have just found this man in the grounds who volunteered information I find interesting, which you may add to, if you please."

I glanced at Frank Penrose, who, half frightened out of his wits, stared about him like a hare, pa.s.sing his tongue over his lips.

I did not answer but waited for Lord Robartes to continue.

"It seems you have had living here, until today, the son of Skellum Grenvile," he said, watching me intently, "also his tutor. They were to have left by fis.h.i.+ng boat for St. Mawes a few hours since. You were the boy's G.o.dmother and had the care of him, I understand. Where are they now?"

"Somewhere off the Dodman, I hope," I answered.

"I am told that as the boat set sail from Polkerris the boy could not be found," he replied, "and Penrose here and John Rashleigh went in search of him. My men have not yet come upon John Rashleigh or the boy. Do you know what has become of them?"

"I do not," I answered. "I only trust they are aboard the boat."

"You realise," he said harshly, "that there is a heavy price upon the head of ^kellum Grenvile, and to harbour him or any of his family would count as treason to Parliament. The Earl of Ess.e.x has given me strict orders as to this."

"That being the case," I said, "you had better take Mrs. Denys into closer custody.

"She is Sir Richard's sister, as you no doubt know."

I had caught him off his guard with this, and he looked at me nonplussed. Then he Degan tapping on the table in sudden irritation. "Mrs. Denys has, I understand, little r no friends.h.i.+p with her brother," he said stiffly. "Her late husband, Mr. Antony ^enys, was known to be a good friend to Parliament and an opposer of Charles Stuart.

"Have you nothing further to tell me about your G.o.dson?"

"Nothing at all," I said, "except that I have every belief that he is upon that fis.h.i.+ng boat, and with the wind in the right quarter he will be, by this time, nigh halfway to St.Mawes."

He turned his back on me at that and left the room, with the luckless Frank Penrose shuffling at his heels, and I realised, with relief, that the agent was ignorant as to d.i.c.k's whereabouts, like everybody else in Menabilly, and for all he knew my tale might be quite true and both d.i.c.k and John some ten miles out to sea.

Not one soul then, in the place, knew the secret of the b.u.t.tress but myself, for Langdon, the steward, had accompanied my brother-in-law to Launceston. This was a great advantage, making betrayal an impossibility. But I still could not solve the problem of how to get food and drink and rea.s.surance to the two fugitives I had myself imprisoned. And another fear began to nag at me with a recollection of my brother-in-law's words: "Lack of air and close confinement soon rendered him unconscious and easy to handle." Uncle John gasping for breath in the little cell beneath the b.u.t.tress... How much air, then, came through to the cell from the tunnel beyond? Enough for how many hours?

Once again, as earlier in the day, the sweat began to trickle down my face, and half consciously I wiped it away with my hand. I felt myself defeated. There was no course for me to take. A little bustle from the adjoining room and a child's cry told me that Joan and her babies had come to my old apartment, and in a moment she came through with little Mary whimpering in her arms and small Jonathan clinging to her skirts.

"Why did you move, Honor dear?" she said. "There was no need." And, like Matty, she gazed about the room in curiosity. "It is very plain and bare," she added, "nothing valuable at all. I am much relieved, for these brutes would have got it. Come back in your own chamber, Honor, if you can bear with the babies."

"No," I said, "I am well enough."

"You look so tired and drawn," she said, "but I dare swear I do the same. I feel I have aged ten years these last two hours. What will they do to us?"

"Nothing," I said, "if we keep to our rooms."

"If only John would return," she said, tears rising to her eyes. "Supposing he has had some skirmish on the road and has been hurt? I cannot understand what can have become of him."

The children began to whimper, hearing the anxiety in her voice, and then Matty, who loved children, came and coaxed the baby and proceeded to undress her for her cot, while little Jonathan, with a small boy's sharp, nervous way, began to plague us all with questions: why did they come to their aunt Honor's room, and who were all the soldiers, and how long would they stay?

The hours wore on with horrid dragging tedium, and the sun began to sink behind the trees at the far end of the park, while the air was thick with smoke from the fires lit by the troopers.

All the time there was tramping below and orders called and the pacing to and fro of horses, with the insistent bugle sometimes far distant in the park, echoed by a fellow bugle, and sometimes directly beneath the windows. The children were restless, turning continually in their cots and calling for either Matty or their mother, and when Joan was not hus.h.i.+ng them she was gazing from my window, reporting fresh actions of destruction, her cheeks aflame with indignation.

"They have rounded up all the cattle from the beef park and the beacon fields and driven them into the park here with a pen about them," she said, "and they are dividing up the steers now to another pen." Suddenly she gave a little cry of dismay.

"They have slaughtered three of them," she said; "the men are quartering them already by the fires. Now they are driving the sheep."

We could hear the anxious baaing of the ewes to the st.u.r.dy lambs and the lowing of the cattle. I thought of the five hundred men encamped there in the park and the many hundreds more between us and Lostwithiel and how they and their horses must be fed, but I said nothing. Joan shut the window, for the smoke from the carnpfires blew thick about the room, and the noise of the men shouting and calling orders made a vile and sickening clamour. The sun set in a dull crimson sky and the shadows lengthened.

About half-past eight Matty brought us a small portion of a pie upon one plate with a carafe of water. Her lips were grimly set.

"This for the two of you," she said. "Mrs. Rashleigh and Mrs. Courtney fare no better. Lady Courtney is making a little broth for the children's breakfast in case they give us no eggs."

Joan ate my piece of pie as well as hers, for I had no appet.i.te. I could think of one thing only, and that was that it was now nearly five hours since her husband and Richard's son had lain hidden in the b.u.t.tress. Matty brought candles, and presently Alice and Mary came to say good night, poor Mary looking suddenly like an old woman from anxiety and shock, with great shadows under her eyes.

"They're axing the trees in the orchard," she said. "I saw them myself sawing the branches and stripping the young fruit that has scarce formed. I sent down a message to Lord Robartes, but he returned no answer. The servants have been told by the soldiers that tomorrow they are going to cut the corn, strip all the barley from eighteen acres and the wheat from the Great Meadow. And it wants three weeks to harvest."

The tears began to course down her cheeks and she turned to Joan. "Why does John not come?" she said in useless reproach. "Why is he not here to stand up for his father's home?"

"If John were here he could do nothing," I said swiftly before Joan could lash back in anger. "Don't you understand, Mary, that this is war? This is what has been happening all over England, and we in Cornwall are having our first taste of it."

Even as I spoke there came a great burst of laughter from the courtyard and a tongue of flame shot up to the windows. The troopers were roasting an ox in the clearing above the warren, and because they were too idle to search for firewood they had broken down the doors from the dairy and the bakery and were piling them upon the fire.

"There must have been thirty officers or more at dinner in the gallery," said Alice quietly. "We saw them from our windows afterwards walk up and down the terrace before the house. One or two were Cornish--I remember meeting them before the war--but most of them were strangers."

"They say the Earl of Ess.e.x is in Fowey," said Joan, "and set up his headquarters at Place. Whether it is true or not I do not know."

"They Treffrys will not suffer," said Mary bitterly. "They have too many relatives fighting for the rebels. You won't find Bridget has her stores pillaged and her larders ransacked."

"Come to bed, Mother," said Alice gently. "Honor is right; it does no good to worry. We have been spared so happily until now. If my father and Peter are somewhere safe with the King's Army, nothing else can matter."

They went to their own apartments and Joan to the children next door, while Matty--all oblivious of my own hidden fears--helped me undress for bed.

There's one discovery I've made this night, anyway," she said grimly as she brushed my hair.

''What is that, Matty?"

"Mrs. Denys hasn't lost her taste for gentlemen."

I said nothing, waiting for what would follow.

You and the others and Mrs. Sawle and Mistress Sparke had pie for your suppers," she said, "but there was roast beef and burgundy taken up to Mrs. Denys and places set for two upon the tray. Her children were put together in the dressing foom and had a chicken between them."

I realised that Matty's partiality for eavesdropping and her nose for gossip might stand us in good stead in the immediate future.

'And who was the fortunate who dined with Mrs. Denys?" I asked.

"Lord Robartes himself," said Matty with sour triumph.

My first suspicion became a certainty. It was not mere chance that had so strangely brought Gartred to Menabilly after five and twenty years. She was here for a purpose.

"Lord Robartes is not an ill-looking man," I said. "I might invite him to share cold pie with me another evening."

Matty snorted and lifted me to bed. "I'd like to see Sir Richard's face if you did," she snapped.

"Sir Richard would not mind," I answered, "not if there was something to be gained from it."

I feigned a lightness I was far from feeling, and when she had blown the candles and was gone I lay back in my bed with my nerves tense and strained. The flames outside my window died away, and slowly the shouting and the laughter ceased and the trampling of feet and the movement of the horses and the calling bugles. I heard the clock in the belfry strike ten, then eleven, and then midnight. The people within the house were still and silent, and so was the alien enemy. At a quarter after midnight a dog howled in the far distance, and as though it were a signal I felt suddenly upon my cheek a current of cold chill air. I sat up in bed and waited. The draught continued, blowing straight from the torn arras on the wall.

"John," I whispered, and "John," I whispered again. I heard a movement from behind the arras like a scratching mouse; slowly, stealthily, I saw the hand come from behind the arras, lifting it aside, and a figure step out, dropping on all fours and creeping to my bed. "It is I, Honor," I said, and the cold froggy hand touched me, icy cold, and the hands clung to me and the dark figure climbed onto my bed and lay trembling beside me.

It was d.i.c.k, the clothes still dank and chill upon him, and he began to weep, long and silently, from exhaustion and from fear.

I held him close, warming him as best I could, and when he was still I whispered, "Where is John?"

"In the little room," he said, "below the steps. We sat there waiting, hour after hour, and you did not come. I wanted to turn back, but Mr. Rashleigh would not let me." He began to sob again, and I drew the covers over his head.

"He has fainted down there on the steps," he said; "he's lying there now, his head between his hands. I got hold of the long rope that hangs there above the steps and pulled at it, and the hinged stone gave way and I came up into this room. I did not care. I could not stay there longer, Honor; it's black as pitch and closer than a grave."

He was still trembling, his head buried in my shoulder. I went on lying there, wondering what to do, whether to summon Joan and thus betray the secret to another, or wait until d.i.c.k was calmer and then send him back there with a candle to John's aid. And as I waited, my heart thumping, my ears strained to all sounds, I heard from without the tiptoe of a footstep in the pa.s.sage, the noise of the latch of the door gently lifted and then let fall again as the door was seen to be fastened, and a moment's pause; then the footstep tiptoeing gently away once more and the soft departing rustle of a gown. Someone had crept to the chamber in the stillness of the night, and that someone was a woman.

I went on lying there with my arms wrapped close about the sleeping boy, and the clock in the belfry struck one, then two, then three....

17.

As the first grey c.h.i.n.ks of light came through the cas.e.m.e.nt I roused d.i.c.k, who lay sleeping with his head upon my shoulder like a baby, and when he had blinked a moment and got his wits restored to him I bade him light the candle and creep back again to the cell. The fear that gripped me was that lack of air had so caused John to faint and, he being by nature far from strong, anything might have happened. Never, in all the sixteen years I had been crippled, had I so needed the use of my legs as now, but I was helpless. In a few moments d.i.c.k was back again, his little ghost's face looking more pallid than ever in the grey morning light.

"He is awake," he said, "but very ill, I think. Shaking all over and seeming not to know what has been happening. His head is burning hot, but his limbs are cold."

At least he was alive, and a wave of thankfulness swept over me. But from d.i.c.k's description I realised what had happened. The ague that was his legacy from birth had attacked John once again with its usual ferocity, and small wonder after more than ten hours crouching beneath the b.u.t.tress. I made up my mind swiftly. I bade d.i.c.k bring the chair beside my bed and with his a.s.sistance I lowered myself into it. Then I went to the door communicating with the gatehouse chamber and very gently called for Matty. Joan answered sleepily, and one of the children stirred.

"It is nothing," I said; "it is only Matty that I want."

In a moment or two she came from the little dressing room, her round plain face yawning beneath her nightcap, and would have chided me for rising had I not placed my finger on my lips.

The urgency of the situation was such that my promise to my brother-in-law must finally be broken, though little of it held as it was. And without Matty it would be impossible to act. She came in then, her eyes round with wonder when she saw d.i.c.k.

"You love me, Matty, I believe," I said to her. "Now I ask you to prove that love as never before. This boy's safety and life are in our hands."

She nodded, saying nothing.

"d.i.c.k and Mr. John have been hiding since last evening," I said. "There is a staircase arid a little room built within the thickness of these walls. Mr. John is ill. I want you to go to him and bring him here. d.i.c.k will show you the way."

He pulled aside the arras, and now for the first time I saw how the entrance was effected. A block of stone, about four feet square, worked on a hinge, moved by a lever and a rope if pulled from beneath the narrow stair. This gave an opening just wide enough for a man to crawl through. When shut, the stone was so closely fitting that it was impossible to find it from within the chamber, nor could it be pushed open, for the lever held it. The little stairway, set inside the b.u.t.tress, twisted steeply to the cell below, which had height enough for a man to stand upright. More I could not see, craning from my chair, save for a dark heap that must be John lying on the lower step.

There was something weird and fearful in the scene with the grey light of morning coming through the cas.e.m.e.nt, and Matty, a fantastic figure in her night clothes and cap, edging her way through the gap in the b.u.t.tress. As she disappeared with d.i.c.k I heard the first high call of the bugle from the park and I knew that for the rebel army the day had now begun.

Soon the soldiers within the house would also be astir, and we had little time in hand. It was, I believe, some fifteen minutes before they were all three within the chamber, though it seemed an hour, and in those fifteen minutes the daylight had filled the room and the troopers were moving in the courtyard down below.

John was quite conscious, thank G.o.d, and his mind lucid, but he was trembling all over and in a high fever, fit for nothing but his own bed and his wife's care. We held rapid consultation in which I held firmly to one thing, and that was that no further person, not Joan, his wife, nor Mary, his stepmother, should be told how he had come into the house or that d.i.c.k was with us still.

John's story then was to be that the fis.h.i.+ng boat came into one of the coves beneath the Gribbin, where he put d.i.c.k aboard, and then on returning across the fields he had seen the arrival of the troopers and hid until nightfall. But, his fever coming upon him, he decided to return and therefore climbed by the lead piping and the creeper that ran the south front of the house outside his father's window. For corroboration of this John must go at once to his father's room, where his stepmother was sleeping, and waken her and win her acceptance of the story. And this immediately, before the household were awake. It was like a nightmare to arrange, with Joan, his wife, in the adjoining chamber through which he must pa.s.s to gain the southern portion of the house. For if he went by the pa.s.sage beneath the belfry he might risk encounter with the servants or the troopers. Matty went first, and when there was no question from Joan nor any movement from the children, we judged them to be sleeping, and poor John, his body on fire with fever, crept swiftly after her. I bethought me of the games of hide-and-seek I had played with my brothers and sisters at Lanrest as children and how now that it was played in earnest there was no excitement but a sickening strain that brought sweat to the forehead and a pain to the belly. When Matty returned and reported John in safety in his father's rooms the first stage of the proceeding was completed. The next I had to break to d.i.c.k with great misgiving and an a.s.sumption of sternness and authority that I was far from feeling. It was that he could remain with me in my apartment but must be prepared to stay, perhaps for long hours at a time, within the secret cell beneath the b.u.t.tress and must have a pallia.s.se there to sleep upon, if need be, should there be visitors to my room.

He fell to crying at once, as I had expected, and beseeching me not to let him stay alone in the dark cell; he would go mad, he said, he could not stand it, he would rather die.

I was well-nigh desperate, with the movement now within the house and the children beginning to talk in the adjoining chamber.

"Very well then," I said, "open the door, Matty. Call the troopers. Tell them that Richard Grenvile's son is here and wishes to surrender himself to their mercy. They have sharp swords and the pain will soon be over." G.o.d forgive me that I could find it in my heart to so terrify the lad, but it was his only salvation.

The mention of the swords sent the colour draining from his face, as I knew it would, bringing the thought of blood, and he turned to me, his dark eyes desperate, and he said, "Very well. I will do as you ask me. " It is those same dark eyes that haunt me still and will always do so to the day I die.

I bade Matty take the mattress from my bed and the stool beside the window and some blankets and bundle them through the open gap into the stair. When it is safe for you to come I will let you know," I said.

"But how can you," said d.i.c.k, "when the gap is closed?"

Here was I forced back again into the old dilemma of the night before. I could have wept with strain and weariness and looked at Matty in despair.

"If you do not quite close the gap," she said, "but let it stay open to three inches, Master d.i.c.k, with his ear put close to it, would hear your voice."

We tried it, and although I was not happy with the plan, it seemed the one solution, and we found, too, that with a gap of two or three inches he could hear me strike with a stick upon the floor, once, twice, or thrice, which we arranged as signals. Thrice meant real danger, and then the stone must be pulled flush to the wall.

He had gone to his cell with his mattress and his blankets and half a loaf that Matty had found for him, as the clock in the belfry struck six, and almost immediately little Jonathan from the adjoining room came pus.h.i.+ng through the door, his toys under his arm, calling in loud tones for me to play with him. The day had started. When I look back now to the intolerable strain and anguish of that time I wonder how in G.o.d's name I had the power to endure it. For I had not only to be on guard against the rebels but against my friends, too, and those I loved. Mary, Alice, Joan must all three remain in ignorance of what was happening; and their visits to my chamber, which should have been a comfort and a consolation in this time of strain, merely added to my anxiety.

What I would have done without Matty I do not know. It was she, acting sentinel as she had done in the past, who kept them from the door when d.i.c.k was with me; and poor lad, I had to have him often, for the best part of the day. Luckily my crippled state served as a good excuse, for it was known that often in the past I had "bad days" and had to be alone, and this lie was now my only safeguard.

John's story had been accepted as full truth, and since he was quite obviously ill and in high fever he was allowed to remain in his father's rooms with Joan to care for him and was not removed to closer custody under guard. Severe questioning from Lord Robartes could not shake John from his story, and thank heaven Robartes had other cares upon his shoulders gathering fast to worry any further what had happened to Skellum Grenvile's son.

I remember Matty saying to me on that first day, Friday, the second of August, "How long will they be here, Miss Honor? When will the royalist army come to relieve us?" And I, thinking of Richard down at Truro and His Majesty already, so the rumour ran, entering Launceston, told her four days at the longest. But I was wrong.

And for four whole weeks the rebels were our masters.

It is now nearly ten years since that August of '44, but every day of that agelong month is printed firm upon my memory. The first week was hot and stifling, with a glazed blue sky and not a cloud upon it, and in my nostrils now I can recapture the smell of horseflesh and the stink of sweating soldiery, borne upwards to my open cas.e.m.e.nt from the fetid court below.

Day in, day out, came the jingle of harness, the clattering of hoofs, the march of tramping feet, the grinding sound of wagon wheels, and ever insistent above the shouting of orders and the voices of the men, the bugle call hammering its single note.

The children, Alice's and Joan's, unused to being withindoors at high summer, hung fretful from the windows, adding to the babel; and Alice, who had the care of all of them, whilst Joan nursed John in the greater quietude of the south front, would take them from room to room to make distraction. Imprisonment made cronies of us all, and no sooner had Alice and the brood departed than the Sparke sisters would come enquiring for me, who had hitherto preferred cribbage to my company, both with some wild rumour to unfold, gleaned from a frightened servant, of how the house was to be burnt down with all its inmates when Ess.e.x gave the order, but first the women ravaged .I dare say I was the only woman in the house to be unmoved by such a threat, for G.o.d knows I could not be more bruised and broken than I was already. But for Deborah and Gillian it was another matter, and Deborah, whom I judged to be even safer from a.s.sault than I was myself, showed me with trembling hands the silver bodkin with which she would defend her honour. Their brother Will was become a sort of toady to the officers, thinking by smiling and by wis.h.i.+ng them good morning he would win their favour and his safety, but as soon as their backs were turned he was whispering some slander about their persons and repeating s.n.a.t.c.hes of conversation he had overheard, bits and pieces that were no use to anyone. Once or twice Nick Sawle came tapping slowly to my room, leaning on his two sticks, a look of lost bewilderment in his eyes and muddled resentment that the rebels had not been flung from Menabilly within four and twenty hours of their arrival; and I was forced to listen to his theories that His Majesty must be now at Launceston, now at Liskeard, now back again at Exeter, which suppositions brought our release no nearer. And while he argued poor Temperance, his wife, stared at him dully, in a kind of trance, her religious eloquence pent up at last from shock and fear so that she could do no more than clutch her prayer book without quoting from it.

Once a day we were allowed within the garden for some thirty minutes, and I would leave Matty in my room on an excuse and have Alice push my chair while her nurse walked with the children.

The poor gardens were laid waste already with the yew trees broken and the flower beds trampled, and up and down the muddied paths we went, stared at by the sentries at the gate and by the officers gathered at the long windows in the gallery. Their appraising hostile eyes burnt through our backs but must be endured for the sake of the fresh air we craved, and sometimes their laughter came to us and their voices hard and ugly, for they were mostly from London and the Eastern counties, except those staff officers of Lord Robartes, and I never could abide the London tw.a.n.g, made doubly alien now through enmity. Never once did we see Gartred when we took our exercise, though her two daughters, reserved and unfriendly, played in the far corner of the garden, watching us and the children with blank eyes.