“Your majesty had best go to sleep again. Pity we have neither cards nor dice to divert the tedium.”
“I have it,” cried Charles. “Cards cannot be provided, but the other deficiency may be easily supplied. Acorns will serve for dice, and our horn drinking-cups will make admirable dice-boxes.”
“Bravo! your majesty has a rare wit,” exclaimed Careless.
Charmed with the notion, he set to work at once to carry it out, and gathering a few acorns, marked them with the point of his dagger. The horn cups were next produced, and carefully wiped with a napkin, which was then folded and laid on a branch of the tree to serve for a board.
“At what game will your majesty be pleased to play?” cried Careless, rattling the extempore dice in the cornet.
“Hazard would be most appropriate,” replied Charles. “But we have had enough of that of late. I prefer ‘passage,’” he added, taking three of the dice. “Plague on’t, I have nothing to stake — not a crown.”
“Your majesty has already staked a crown — —”
“Ay, and lost it,” interrupted the king.
“Only temporarily, sire. You will soon have it back again. I have a few pistoles left,” he added, producing his purse. “Shall we divide them?”
“Be it so,” replied Charles.
Putting down a couple of the pistoles he had received from Careless, he then threw, calling out “Quatre,” as he made the cast, and he continued throwing until stopped by Careless, who exclaimed:
“Doublets above ten. Your majesty passes and wins.”
“I thought I was in luck to-day,” cried Charles.
The play went on, without much benefit to Careless. Ere long, every pistole was swept up by the king, who was put into very good humour by his success.
“Oddsfish! I have won all thy money, Will,” he exclaimed. “But take back half, and let us begin anew. Since we have found out this pleasant pastime, I care not how long I am detained here. Never, sure, was oak so enchanting as this.”
“Suppose we try ‘in and in,’ by way of variety, sire?” said Careless.
Charles assented, and they began to play again, and soon became so excited by the game, that they neglected the dictates of prudence, and talked louder than they ought to have done. Suddenly a sound from below, like the clapping of hands, brought them to their senses. They became instantly silent, and regarded each other anxiously.
* * *
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THEY HAD A VISITOR IN THE OAK, AND IN WHAT MANNER THEY TREATED HIM.
The sound was repeated. Though believing it to be a signal, they did not dare to respond.
“Do you hear me?” cried a voice which they both recognised. “’Tis I — Jasper. Come down quickly. There is danger.”
“Danger of what?” demanded Careless.
But no answer was made. The page was gone.
“We had best attend to the warning, sire,” observed Careless.
Charles thought so too, and they were preparing to descend, when they were stopped by hearing other voices — rough and menacing in tone — at the foot of the tree. It was evident that the speakers were a couple of troopers, who had tied up their horses and come thither on foot.
“If it should turn out as I conjecture, Ezra,” said one of them, “and Charles Stuart proves to be hidden in this tree, we shall easily effect his capture, and obtain the reward.”
“Without doubt. But why dost thou think he is here hidden, Madmannah?”
“A revelation seemed made to me, when I came hither an hour or two ago with Colonel James,” replied Madmannah. “But I would not disclose what was then imparted to me — save to thee, Ezra. Thou shalt share the reward.”
“And the danger,” observed Ezra.
“The danger will be mine, seeing that I mean to climb the tree,” said Madmannah. “Thou wilt remain here.”
“I am content,” replied Ezra. “But I have little faith that thou wilt find him thou seekest.”
This discourse reached those above.
“There are but two of them, sire,” remarked Careless to the king. “Shall we descend and attack them?”
“Not so,” replied Charles. “Let this fellow come up if he will. We can hurl him down on his comrade’s head.”
It now became evident from the noise that Madmannah was climbing the tree.
“Give me thy dagger,” said the king. “I will deal with him.”
Careless obeyed, but held himself in readiness to assist the king.
As Madmannah entered the thick part of the tree, where he was concealed from his comrade’s view, he was suddenly seized with an iron grasp by the king, who placed the dagger at his throat.
“Utter a word, and thou art a dead man,” said Charles, in a deep whisper.
His looks showed so plainly that he would execute his threat, that Madmannah did not dare to disobey, but prudently held his tongue.
Seeing how matters stood, and fearing lest the trooper might free himself sufficiently from the king’s grasp to draw a pistol, Careless quickly descended and disarmed him — depriving him of all weapons he had about him.
“I will slay thee without hesitation unless thou renderest implicit obedience to my commands,” said Charles to the trooper.
At this moment Ezra called from below:
“Hast thou found him?”
“Say that thou hast lost thy labour,” whispered Charles, holding the poniard more closely to the trooper’s throat. “Speak loudly, so that he may hear thee.”
Madmannah did as enjoined.
“I expected as much,” cried Ezra, angrily. “Thou hast brought me here on a fool’s errand. Come down quickly, or I will depart without thee.”
“Let thy answer be, ‘Go, an’ thou wilt,’” said Charles.
And Madmannah repeated what he was told.
“Add, that he may go to the devil if he is so minded,” said Careless.
Madmannah made the required addition, and Ezra marched off in high dudgeon.
“Now let me go,” implored Madmannah. “I swear not to betray you.”
“We cannot trust him,” said Careless. “These false-hearted knaves regard not an oath. We can only insure his silence by putting him to death. Let us hang him to a branch of the tree.”
“Spare me!” cried the trooper, horribly frightened. “By all that is sacred I swear not to betray you!”
“I am for hanging him. ’Tis the safest plan,” said Careless.
Though not seriously uttered, the threats produced the desired effect. The trooper begged hard for his life.
“Shall we let him go?” said Charles, somewhat moved.
“Assuredly not,” replied Careless. “Since he has been fool enough to run his head into a noose, he must take the consequences.”
“It will greatly inconvenience us to detain him as a prisoner,” said Charles. “But there is no alternative.”
“Pardon me, there is the alternative of hanging.”
“Hark thee, fellow,” cried Charles. “Thy life shall be spared, but thou must submit to restraint. Thy hands must be bound, and thine eyes blindfolded.”
“Nay, if that be done unto me, I shall fall down from the tree, and break my neck,” groaned Madmannah.
“No matter,” said Careless.
“Seat thyself between these branches, and move not,” said the king.
Aware that resistance would be useless, Madmannah obeyed. Careless then took off the prisoner’s belt, and with it fastened his arms tightly behind his back; completing his task by tying his own scarf over the man’s eyes.
“Attempt to call out and we will gag thee,” he said.
“Nay, I will keep silence,” rejoined Madmannah. “Yet tell me how long I am to be detained here?”
“Till this time to-morrow,” answered Careless; “for then we shall be far off.”
“Then ye mean to leave me here?” said the prisoner.
“We shall leave thee, but the tree will be watched,” remarke
d Charles.
Madmannah asked no further questions. Naturally, his presence was a great annoyance to the king and his companion, and they moved as far from him as they could, and conversed in whispers.
Things went on thus for more than an hour, when the voice of Ezra was heard from below, calling out:
“Art thou still here, Madmannah?”
The prisoner heard the inquiry, but did not dare to make any answer, for he felt the point of the poniard at his throat, and Ezra departed.
No one else — friend or foe — came near the oak.
The day seemed interminable — but night came at last. In expectation of the arrival of William Penderel, they had got all in readiness for departure. But what was to be done with the prisoner? That was rather a perplexing consideration, for the king did not altogether like to leave him in the tree. Charles was still undecided, when a signal was given, and peering out from the screen of foliage he could just distinguish three huge figures standing at the foot of the tree.
“The fellow shall go down with us,” he observed in an under tone to Careless. “William Penderel and two of his brothers are below. They will dispose of him. Unloose him quickly.”
Careless obeyed the injunction.
“Am I to be set at liberty?” asked the prisoner, joyfully, as his hands were unfastened.
“That depends,” replied Careless. “The bandage will not be removed from thine eyes, so it will behove thee to be careful in descending.”
Meantime, the king had gone down to explain matters, taking the basket and the cushion with him. As he expected, he found William Penderel, with Trusty Dick and John. All three were amazed to hear that a prisoner had been made. Though the task was by no means agreeable to them, Dick and John did not for a moment dispute his majesty’s commands, but agreed to convey the trooper to a distance.
“We will conduct him to the roughest part of the wood and leave him there, to find his way out as he best can,” said Dick.
“If he gets drowned in a pool, or stifled in a bog, it won’t much matter,” added John.
Madmannah reached the lowest branch in safety, but he then slipped down and fell to the ground. When he arose he was seized on either side by a vigorous grasp, while a stern voice — it was that of Dick — bade him come along, and keep silence.
“We have got thy pistols,” added John, “and we will shoot thee through the head shouldst thou attempt to fly, or give the alarm. So take heed what thou art about.”
They then marched off with the prisoner between them.
As soon as they were out of sight and hearing, William Penderel cautiously conducted the king and his companion to Boscobel House.
* * *
CHAPTER IX.
HOW CHARLES SLEPT IN THE SECRET CLOSET; AND HOW CARELESS SLEPT IN A PRIEST’S HOLE IN THE GARRET.
After the long and anxious day he had passed in the oak, it was with a feeling of indescribable satisfaction that Charles found himself once more in Boscobel House — not in the parlour into which he had been shown in the morning, but in the large comfortable hall — a couple of nicely roasted chickens before him, and Dame Joan in attendance. Careless, who was seated at the opposite side of the table, was quite as well pleased as his royal master, and both did justice to the repast provided for them. Charles, as we have already remarked, possessed a happy temperament, that enabled him to cast off his cares, and with plenty to eat, and a flask of good wine within reach — to say nothing of a black-jack full of strong ale, he desired nothing better — and laughed heartily while recounting the many alarming incidents of the day to Joan.
“What trials your majesty must have gone through!” exclaimed the good dame, lifting up her hands. “The saints be praised that you are here to describe them.”
“I shouldn’t mind passing another day in the oak,” observed Charles, “if I were certain of having such a supper as this at the end of it. I trust the noble tree that has given me shelter may ‘scape the woodman’s axe!”
Just then the door opened, and William Penderel entered, followed by his two brothers.
“William,” cried his wife, with irrepressible enthusiasm, “his majesty expects you and your brothers to protect the royal oak!”
“The royal oak!” cried William.
“Thy wife has so named the tree,” said the king, “and I approve the designation.”
“Then the royal oak it shall be called,” cried William, sharing Joan’s enthusiasm, as did his brothers.
“Pledge me in this cup of wine that you will protect the good old oak,” cried Charles, drinking from the cup which he had just before filled, and handing it to William Penderel, who received it on his knees with the utmost respect.
“I pledge myself to preserve the royal oak, so far as lies in my power,” he said, placing the cup to his lips.
When he had finished, each of his brothers knelt down, and drank the pledge solemnly.
“Your majesty may depend that the royal oak will be well protected,” cried Joan.
“I doubt it not,” said Charles. “Now tell me what you have done with the prisoner?” he added to Trusty Dick.
“We took him to Rock Coppice in Chillington Park,” replied Dick, “and forced him to descend into a deep dry pit, from which he will find some difficulty in getting out.”
“But he may know you again?” said Charles.
“No fear of that,” said John. “We didn’t remove the bandage from his eyes, and disguised our voices. Here are his pistols.”
“Give them to me,” said William. “I may need them. I shall keep watch throughout the night.”
“John and I will remain here likewise to relieve guard,” said Dick; “so that his majesty may rest securely.”
“No discovery was made when the house was searched by the enemy to-day? ha!” cried Charles.
“None whatever, sire,” replied Joan. “Our lady be praised for misleading them.”
“Where am I to be lodged, good dame?” asked Charles.
“There is a very fine old bed in the squire’s room as we call it,” replied Joan— “Squire Peter Giffard, and his father, ay, and his grandfather, Squire John Giffard, who built this house, have often slept in it — but I dare not offer it to your majesty.”
“Lodge me where you will, good dame,” replied the king, with manifest symptoms of fatigue. “I wish you all good night.”
“Shall I attend your majesty?” said Careless.
Charles declined, and preceded by Joan, who carried a light, mounted an oak staircase, which sprang from the further end of the hall.
On arriving at the landing-place, his conductress opened the door of a good-sized apartment, in the midst of which stood a large old-fashioned bed, with rich, though faded curtains. The room, which had a most comfortable look in the eyes of the wearied monarch, was panelled with black oak, and partly hung with tapestry. On the walls were portraits of Sir Thomas Giffard, tenth Lord of Chillington, and his two spouses — Dorothy, daughter of Sir John Montgomery, of Caverswall, and Ursula, daughter of Sir Robert Throckmorton, of Coughton — both extremely handsome women.
Having drawn aside a piece of the arras opposite the foot of the bed, Joan opened a sliding panel in the wainscot, and a dark closet was then revealed.
“Is this the hiding-place?” asked Charles.
“Your majesty shall see,” she replied.
And she then opened another sliding panel at the back of the closet.
The aperture thus discovered admitted them to a small square room, which evidently formed part of the projecting chimney-stack, and had small windows at the front and at either side, looking into the garden. It was evident from its position that the room stood over the porch.
“This cannot be a hiding-place,” said Charles.
“Your majesty is right,” replied Joan. “But it deceives the searchers.”
She then drew back, and signing to the king to follow her, returned to the closet, and taking up a small mat in one corner, raised
up a trap-door, so artfully contrived in the floor, that Charles could not detect it, and disclosed a small ladder, leading to a room beneath.
“There is the hiding-place,” she said. “The small room below is built in the chimney, whence by a narrow staircase and a small postern covered with ivy, you can gain the garden, and from the garden may reach the wood, where you are safe.”
“I understand,” said the king, struck with the ingenuity of the contrivance.
“A pallet bed is made up in the lower room. The place is small and uncomfortable, but ’tis safe.”
“That is the main point,” cried Charles. “I must sacrifice comfort to security.”
“The Earl of Derby slept here all the time he stayed at Boscobel,” said Joan.
“Then I have no right to complain,” cried Charles.
“Should any alarm occur I will run up-stairs instantly and make all secure,” said Joan. “Holy Mary and all holy angels watch over your majesty!”
Charles then took the light from her, passed through the trap-door, and descended to the lower room.
Having carefully restored the panel to its place, Joan went down-stairs, and telling Careless she would find him a safe resting-place, led him to the upper floor of the house.
There was nothing whatever in the garret they had reached to indicate that it could be used for the purpose of concealment. The roof was so low that Careless could scarcely stand upright beneath it. Beyond it were other small rooms lighted by the gable windows. A straw mat was lying on the floor. This Joan removed and revealed a trap-door, beneath which was a cavity about six or seven feet deep, profoundly dark, and only just large enough to hold a single person. So much did this “priest’s hole,” as it was called, resemble a cell that Careless shuddered as he gazed into it. However, he made no complaint, but let himself down into the hole, which he found somewhat more roomy than he expected.
Joan handed him the lamp she had brought with her, and on looking round, he perceived that a pallet was laid at the bottom of the recess, but nothing more than a blanket and a pillow were provided.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 663