“I mean to do so — in this tree,” replied Charles.
“In this tree!” cried William, in a tone of disappointment. “Everything is prepared in the house.”
“His majesty has decided upon taking refuge in this oak,” said Careless.
“Nay, then, no more need be said,” observed William Penderel. “And perhaps it may be for the best. But you have not breakfasted, sire. And my good dame has got all ready for you.”
“I must dispense with breakfast, I fear,” observed Charles, with a sigh.
“Oh! we can breakfast in the tree,” cried Careless. “There is every convenience among the branches. Can’t you bring a basket of provisions, William, with a flask of wine?”
“Suppose I am caught by the Roundheads, they will at once conclude the provisions and wine are intended for his majesty. Most assuredly, the house will be watched.”
“You cannot be too cautious, William,” observed the king. “I care not how long I fast.”
“But I do,” groaned Careless.
“Help me to climb the tree,” cried Charles.
The king, who was remarkably active, scarcely needed the assistance he demanded, and, with very slight aid from William Penderel, was quickly among the branches.
“Your majesty is as nimble as a squirrel,” cried the forester, in admiration.
“Are you coming to me, Careless?” said the king, looking down.
“Most certainly, sire,” replied the major.
And in another instant he was by the king’s side.
“Do not tarry here longer, my good friends,” cried Charles to the brothers. “I feel quite safe, now I am in this oak. Return to me when you can do so without risk.”
In obedience to his commands, the three brothers departed — William Penderel returning to the house, while Trusty Dick and John posted themselves in different parts of the wood, but at no great distance from the oak in which the king was hidden.
* * *
CHAPTER IV.
HOW CARELESS CAPTURED AN OWL IN THE OAK.
Seated upon a large bough, and with his feet upon a lower branch, the king looked down at Careless, and could not help laughing at him.
“This would be an amusing adventure if your majesty’s safety were not in question,” observed the major.
“I suppose you never spent a day in a tree, Will?”
“Never, sire. I don’t know what it’s like. I have done a good many strange things in my time, but this is one I never yet did. We must make ourselves as cheerful as we can under the circumstances.”
“You have the happy knack of being always cheerful, Will.”
“I am not half so light-hearted as your majesty. Besides, I have nothing to trouble me. I have not lost a kingdom. I have not even lost a mistress.”
“I am not so certain of that,” laughed Charles.
“At any rate, her loss does not give me much concern. Women are enigmas, and pass my comprehension.”
“Thou art thinking of one in particular.”
“The sex are all alike — whimsical, capricious, inconstant.”
“But always attractive. What hath displeased thy mistress with thee?”
“On my honour, sire, I know not. Methought she was flying at higher game.”
“You need fear no rival in me, Will. I am proof against all feminine wiles just now. I have something else to think of. But let us examine our quarters.”
“Climb a little higher up, my liege, and you will find a most comfortable seat — there! — between the main stem and one of the upper branches.”
“I have it,” said Charles, seating himself. “Oddsfish! how thick the foliage is! ’Tis a perfect luxury to sit amongst it. Find a place near me if thou canst.”
Careless obeyed, and while searching for a convenient place among the branches, suddenly called out:
“Adzooks! We have a companion, sire.”
“A companion!” exclaimed the king, in surprise. “What sort of companion?”
“An owl,” replied Careless. “A great horned owl. Behold him! — perched on that branch, puffing angrily at me for intruding upon his rest. I wonder he has not taken flight. I’ll try and capture him. He may be of use to us.”
“In what way useful? We are better without him than with him, methinks.”
But the interdiction was too late. Careless had caught the owl by throwing his mantle over him.
“Here he is, sire!” he cried, delighted with his success.
“If thou couldst cook him now he is caught, there would be some gain,” laughed Charles.
“He will serve to amuse us if he answers no other purpose,” said Careless. “But hark! I hear a sound.” And after listening intently for a moment, he added in a low voice to the king, “’Tis the trampling of horse. A patrol is coming this way.”
“I hear the voices of the rogues. Are we perfectly concealed?”
“Perfectly, my liege. Keep quite still. I beseech you! The slightest noise may betray us.”
From the sounds that reached their ears it was plain that three or four horsemen had halted beneath the tree, and were lamenting the ill success that had attended their search for the royal fugitive.
“’Tis strange Charles Stuart contrives to evade us so long,” remarked one of them. “I begin to think he has escaped.”
“Had he attempted to escape, we should assuredly have captured him,” cried another. “He hath baffled us by keeping quiet. I doubt not he is still in this wood. Ah! if we could only discover his retreat. That Humphrey Penderel could have helped us to it if he would. He is a lying rogue.”
“Colonel James thinks that the malignant prince will be found at Boscobel,” observed a third. “But I doubt it. He does not enter a house. My belief is that he is hidden in a tree.”
“Perchance in a tree like this?” observed the first interlocutor. “If such is thy opinion, dismount quickly, and climb the tree — even to the top thereof.”
“And be laughed at for my pains. No, I will not climb the tree, but I will discharge my caliver into its branches. If I bring down Charles Stuart with the shot ye will not mock me.”
“Of a surety not — we will greatly applaud thy wisdom,” cried the others.
Upon this the trooper who had previously spoken, pointed his caliver upwards, and fired into the thick of the branches. A loud rustling sound followed the shot.
“I have hit something!” cried the trooper, exultingly. “Peradventure it is the king.”
“If it be the king he has taken the form of a bird,” cried the troopers, laughing.
As they spoke the owl dropped down on their heads, and its wing being broken by the shot, it fluttered along the ground.
Shouting with laughter, the troopers pursued the unlucky bird, but could not catch it.
“I have had a narrow escape,” said Careless to the king, as soon as the coast was clear. “That rogue’s bullet came confoundedly near me. Your majesty will now admit that an owl may be of some use. It has helped us to get rid of those rascally troopers.”
* * *
CHAPTER V.
HOW THEY BREAKFASTED IN THE OAK.
Thankful for their escape, the king and Careless remained perfectly quiet for some time, conversing only in whispers, lest an enemy might be lurking near.
More than an hour elapsed without anything occurring to cause them fresh alarm, when a low whistle was heard.
“A signal!” exclaimed Charles.
“It may be a device to induce us to discover ourselves,” whispered Careless.
After a pause the whistle was repeated, and somewhat more loudly.
“I will go a little lower down and endeavour to make out who it is,” said Careless.
While he was cautiously descending, a voice, which both recognised, called out:
“’Tis I, William Penderel!”
“Heaven grant he has brought us something to eat!” exclaimed the king. “Go down to him quickly, Will.”
On eme
rging from the foliage, Careless beheld William Penderel at the foot of the tree, having a basket in his hand and a cushion under his arm.
“Never wert thou more welcome, friend William,” cried Careless, enchanted at the sight. “His majesty is well-nigh famished, and I should have been forced to come to thee for food hadst thou not made thy appearance.”
“You must not quit the tree on any consideration,” returned William. “Boscobel is surrounded by the enemy. I have been obliged to steal hither by a path known only to myself, and even then I ran the greatest risk. Do not come down, I pray your honour,” he added, seeing that Careless, who was standing on the lowest bough, was about to descend. “I will hand the basket up to you.”
The feat would have been difficult to any man of less gigantic stature than William Penderel, but was easily accomplished by him.
Just as Careless obtained possession of the basket, the king appeared above his head.
“Here is your majesty’s breakfast,” cried Careless, gleefully.
“And here is a cushion for your majesty to sit upon while breakfasting,” said William, handing it up.
“Truly, thou art most thoughtful, William,” said the king. “I cannot thank thee sufficiently.”
“I must not remain here longer now,” said the forester. “I will return when I can do so with safety. Meantime, I counsel your majesty to keep close hidden.”
“Answer me one question before you go, William,” said Charles. “Has the house been searched?”
“No, sire,” he replied. “But it is strictly watched by the rebel soldiers. Apparently, they are waiting for their leader. I must get back before he arrives!”
With this he departed.
The king and Careless then took the basket to the upper part of the tree, and arranged the cushion between the forked branches, so that it formed a very comfortable seat.
Evidently replenished by Dame Joan, the basket contained all that could be desired for a substantial meal — cold meat, a cold pie, bread, butter, and cheese, with wooden platters, wooden spoons, horn cups, and every other requisite, including a couple of white napkins. Nor was a flask of canary omitted.
“Heaven bless that thoughtful Dame Joan! How much we owe her!” cried Charles, as he spread a napkin on his knee. “Give me some of that pie, Will, and take good care you let none fall while cutting it.”
“Fear me not, sire,” said Careless, performing the office of carver very dexterously, all things considered, and handing a large piece of pigeon-pie to the king.
He then set to work himself, and with such goodwill that in a marvellously short space of time the dish was completely emptied. The horn cups were then filled, and a fresh attack was made on the cold meat, and continued stoutly for some time, till both parties were obliged to give in. Careless, however, held out longer than his royal master.
Everything being replaced in the basket, it was hung upon a branch, to be again applied to in case of need. The pangs of hunger, from which he had been suffering rather sharply for the last few hours, being now appeased, Charles began to feel extremely drowsy, and at length, being quite unable to resist the strong inclination to slumber, he reclined his head on Careless’s lap, and almost instantly dropped asleep.
The chief anxiety of the faithful attendant was to prevent his royal master from falling, but there was little chance of such an accident, for the king never moved. The real risk was lest Careless himself should follow his majesty’s example, for he was oppressed by drowsiness in an equal degree, but by a great effort he conquered the feeling.
Thus things continued for some time, during which Careless never altered his position for fear of disturbing the slumbering monarch. But Charles was not easily awakened, as will presently appear.
On a sudden, Careless was roused from the dreamy state of mind in which he was lost by a cry for help, and as he happened to be thinking of Jasper at the moment, he naturally concluded that the cry must proceed from the page.
In another moment he became convinced that his supposition was correct. This was not the first time he had heard that voice in distress, though under far different circumstances from the present. He could not look out from his place of concealment to ascertain the cause of the outcries, but it seemed to him that the luckless page was flying from a patrol, and in imminent danger of being captured. Had it been possible he would have flown to the youth’s assistance, but he could not quit his position. His anxiety almost amounted to torture, but he was obliged to bear it.
Charles slept on soundly as ever.
Listening intently, Careless heard the shouts of the troopers as they galloped among the trees, and he again heard Jasper’s voice, but faint and far off. Then it ceased altogether. Was the fugitive captured? As Careless could still hear the fierce shouts of the pursuers he hoped not. But he was left in a state of agonising suspense, for very soon the shouts of the troopers ceased also.
Still the king moved not, but continued buried in sleep for some time longer. At last he roused himself, but it took him some minutes to completely shake off his lethargy.
“I have had a strange dream, Will — a kind of nightmare,” he said. “Methought that pretty page, Jasper, was calling out for help, and neither of us could stir.”
“’Twas no dream, sire,” replied Careless. “The circumstance actually occurred. I was awake, and heard the cries. They pierced my heart.”
“Why did you not answer them?”
“My duty to your majesty forbade me. I would not even waken you — for I well knew what your chivalrous impulse would have suggested.”
“And you allowed him to be captured? — ha!”
“I trust he escaped — but I cannot say. I am now right glad that I did not wake your majesty. ’Twas a hard matter to keep quiet I will frankly confess, but I could not desert my post. Duty before everything.”
The king smiled, and patted his shoulder. “Thou art ever faithful,” he said.
* * *
CHAPTER VI.
HOW COLONEL JAMES HALTED BENEATH THE OAK.
Nothing more passed between them for some time, and Charles seemed to be once more yielding to lethargic feelings, when he was effectually aroused by the trampling of horse. Evidently a small detachment of troopers was coming that way, and a halt took place beneath the oak. No sooner did the voice of their leader reach Careless’s ears, than he remarked in a whisper to the king, “Tis Colonel James, sire.”
“We must not quit this forest empty-handed,” said James. “Unless the knave and his wife who have care of Boscobel have deceived me, Charles Stuart is not concealed there. Neither is he at either of those houses of abomination, White Ladies, or Black Ladies. Yet I am well assured he is hereabouts, and have him I will; for what answer shall I give to the Lord General, if the head of the malignants be suffered to escape. Search, then, most carefully. Let men be posted at various points, and if any one be found in the forest — woodman or not — compel him to give an account of himself, and if he fails to do so satisfactorily, arrest him.”
“We did discover a youth in the forest, but being exceeding fleet of foot, he escaped us,” remarked one of the soldiers.
“How? escaped!” cried Colonel James, angrily. “It might have been Charles Stuart himself. Why did you not shoot him, Madmannah?”
“It was not Charles Stuart, colonel,” replied the soldier. “’Twas a mere stripling. We were close upon his heels when he disappeared suddenly from our sight — nor could we find him again.”
“Ye are not half quick enough,” said Colonel James, sternly. “In which direction did the youth run?”
“Towards Boscobel House, colonel,” replied another of the soldiers. “But he could not have gained the house.”
“Ye have done your work negligently,” said James, still more sternly.
“The reproof is unmerited, colonel,” said Madmannah. “We have shown no lack of zeal.”
“Find me Charles Stuart, and I will retract what I have said. But I r
epeat, ye have done your work imperfectly. I will have every tree in the forest searched wherein a man might be hidden, and I will begin with this oak.”
It will be readily supposed that the determination thus expressed by Colonel James caused great alarm to Charles and his companion, but their uneasiness increased when the Republican leader continued in an authoritative voice:
“Thou art active, Ezra. Dismount at once, and climb the tree.”
The king and Careless gave themselves up for lost. There seemed to be no possibility of escape. But they were quickly relieved by Ezra’s response to the order.
“No use in searching this oak, colonel.”
“No use, sayst thou?”
“None, colonel. I have already discharged my caliver into the tree.”
“That is true,” said the other soldiers.
“Nay, if that be so, ‘twere a waste of time to climb the tree,” said James. “We will look out for another, further on.”
“Shall we fire a volley into the tree, colonel, to make sure?” asked another of the soldiers.
“’Tis needless,” replied James. “March!”
* * *
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THEY PLAYED AT DICE IN THE OAK.
The occupants of the oak breathed again after the departure of Colonel James and his troopers, and though they had been greatly alarmed at the time, they soon recovered their spirits, and laughed at the incident.
“Perhaps the excitement was a little too great,” observed Charles; “but it has served to break the monotony of our somewhat dull existence. Time, it must be owned, passes very slowly when one is compelled, like the fowls of the air, to roost in a tree. I hope we shall soon have another visit from our faithful William Penderel.”
“Your majesty must not look for him before night.”
“I would night were come. How many wearisome hours have we to pass? Never did I feel so strong a desire for active exercise — just because I must not take it.”
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 662