The Children of the New Forest

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER XXII.

  Edward was certain that Mr. Langton would not have advised him to leaveLondon if he had not considered that it was dangerous to remain. Hetherefore first called upon the Hamburgh merchant, who, upon hisexplanation, gave him a letter of credit to a friend who resided in thecity of York; and then returned to the hotel, packed up hissaddle-bags, paid his reckoning, and, mounting his horse, set off onthe northern road. As it was late in the afternoon before he was clearof the metropolis, he did not proceed farther than Barnet, where hepulled up at the inn. As soon as he had seen his horse attended to,Edward, with his saddle-bags on his arm, went into the room in the innwhere all the travelers congregated. Having procured a bed, and givenhis saddle-bags into the charge of the hostess, he sat down by thefire, which, although it was warm weather, was nevertheless kept alight.

  Edward had made no alteration in the dress which he had worn since hehad been received in the house of Mr. Heatherstone. It was plain,although of good materials. He wore a high-crowned hat, and,altogether, would, from his attire, have been taken for one of theRoundhead party. His sword and shoulder-belt were indeed of more gayappearance than those usually worn by the Roundheads; but this was theonly difference.

  When Edward first entered the room, there were three persons in it,whose appearance was not very prepossessing. They were dressed in whathad once been gay attire, but which now exhibited tarnished lace,stains of wine, arid dust from traveling. They eyed him as he enteredwith his saddle-bags, and one of them said--

  "That's a fine horse you were riding, sir. Has he much speed?"

  "He has," replied Edward, as he turned away and went into the bar tospeak with the hostess, and give his property into her care.

  "Going north, sir?" inquired the same person when Edward returned.

  "Not exactly," replied Edward, walking to the window to avoid furtherconversation.

  "The Roundhead is on the stilts," observed another of the party.

  "Yes," replied the first; "it is easy to see that he has not beenaccustomed to be addressed by gentlemen; for half a pin I would slithis ears!"

  Edward did not choose to reply; he folded his arms and looked at theman with contempt.

  The hostess, who had overheard the conversation, now called for herhusband, and desired him to go into the room and prevent any furtherinsults to the young gentleman who had just come in. The host, who knewthe parties, entered the room, and said--

  "Now you'll clear out of this as fast as you can; be off with you, andgo to the stables, or I'll send for somebody whom you will not like."

  The three men rose and swaggered, but obeyed the host's orders, andleft the room.

  "I am sorry, young master, that these roisterers should have affrontedyou, as my wife tells me that they have. I did not know that they werein the house. We can not well refuse to take in their horses; but weknow well who they are, and, if you are traveling far, you had betterride in company."

  "Thank you for your caution, my good host," replied Edward; "I thoughtthat they were highwaymen, or something of that sort."

  "You have made a good guess, sir; but nothing has yet been provedagainst them, or they would not be here. In these times we have strangecustomers, and hardly know who we take in. You have a good sword there,sir, I have no doubt; but I trust that you have other arms."

  "I have," replied Ed ward, opening his doublet, and showing his pistols.

  "That's right, sir. Will you take any thing before you go to bed?"

  "Indeed I will, for I am hungry; any thing will do, with a pint ofwine."

  As soon as he had supped, Edward asked the hostess for his saddle-bags,and went up to his bed.

  Early the next morning he rose and went to the stable to see his horsefed. The three men were in the stables, but they did not say any thingto him. Edward returned to the inn, called for breakfast, and as soonas he had finished, took out his pistols to renew the priming. While sooccupied, he happened to look up, and perceived one of the men with hisface against the window, watching him. "Well, now you see what you haveto expect, if you try your trade with me," thought Edward. "I am veryglad that you have been spying." Having replaced his pistols, Edwardpaid his reckoning, and went to the stable, desiring the hostler tosaddle his horse and fix on his saddle-bags. As soon as this was done,he mounted and rode off. Before he was well clear of the town, thehighwaymen cantered past him on three well-bred active horses. "Ipresume we shall meet again," thought Edward, who for some timecantered at a gentle pace, and then, as his horse was very fresh, heput him to a faster pace, intending to do a long day's work. He hadridden about fifteen miles, when he came to a heath, and, as hecontinued at a fast trot, he perceived the three highwaymen about aquarter of a mile in advance of him; they were descending a hill whichwas between them, and he soon lost sight of them again. Edward nowpulled up his horse to let him recover his wind, and walked him gentlyup the hill. He had nearly gained the summit when he heard the reportof firearms, and soon afterward a man on horseback, in full speed,galloped over the hill toward him. He had a pistol in his hand, and hishead turned back. The reason for this was soon evident, as immediatelyafter him appeared the three highwaymen in pursuit. One fired hispistol at the man who fled, and missed him. The man then fired inreturn, and with true aim, as one of the highwaymen fell. All this wasso sudden, that Edward had hardly time to draw his pistol and put spursto his horse, before the parties were upon him, and were passing him.Edward leveled at the second highwayman as he passed him, and the manfell. The third highwayman, perceiving this, turned his horse to theside of the road, cleared a ditch, and galloped away across the heath.The man who had been attacked had pulled up his horse when Edward cameto his assistance, and now rode up to him, saying,

  "I have to thank you, sir, for your timely aid; for these rascals weretoo many for me."

  "You are not hurt, I trust, sir?" replied Edward. "No, not the least;the fellow singed my curls though, as you may perceive. They attackedme about half a mile from here. I was proceeding north when I heard theclatter of hoofs behind me; I looked round and saw at once what theywere, and I sprung my horse out of the road to a thicket close to it,that they might not surround me. One of the three rode forward to stopmy passage, and the other two rode round to the back of the thicket toget behind me. I then saw that I had separated them, and could gain astart upon them by riding back again, which I did, as fast as I could,and they immediately gave chase. The result you saw. Between us we havebroken up the gang; for both these fellows seem dead, or nearly so."

  "What shall we do with them?"

  "Leave them where they are," replied the stranger. "I am in a hurry toget on. I have important business at the city of York, and can notwaste my time in depositions, and such nonsense. It is only twoscoundrels less in the world, and there's an end of the matter."

  As Edward was equally anxious to proceed, he agreed with the stranger,that it was best to do as he proposed.

  "I am also going north," replied Edward, "and am anxious to get thereas soon as I can."

  "With your permission we will ride together," said the stranger. "Ishall be the gainer, as I shall feel that I have one with me who is tobe trusted to in case of any further attacks during our journey."

  There was such a gentlemanlike, frank, and courteous air about thestranger, that Edward immediately assented to his proposal, of theirriding in company for mutual protection. He was a powerful, well-mademan, of apparently about one or two-and-twenty, remarkably handsome inperson, dressed richly, but not gaudily, in the Cavalier fashion, andwore a hat with a feather. As they proceeded, they entered intoconversation on indifferent matters for some time, neither partyattempting by any question to discover who his companion might be.Edward had more than once, when the conversation flagged for a minute,considered what reply he should give in case his companion should askhim the cause of his journey, and at last had made up his mind what tosay.

  A little before noon they pulled up to bait their horses at a smallvillage; th
e stranger observing that he avoided St. Alban's, and allother large towns, as he did not wish to satisfy the curiosity ofpeople, or to have his motions watched; and therefore, if Edward had noobjection, he knew the country so well, that he could save time byallowing him to direct their path. Edward was, as may be supposed, veryagreeable to this, and, during their whole journey, they never entereda town, except they rode through it after dark; and put up at humbleinns on the roadside, where, if not quite so well attended to, at allevents they were free from observation.

  It was, however, impossible that this reserve could continue long, asthey became more and more intimate every day. At last the stranger said,

  "Master Armitage, we have traveled together for some time,interchanging thoughts and feelings, but with due reserve as respectsourselves and our own plans. Is this to continue? If so, of course youhave but to say so; but if you feel inclined to trust me, I have thesame feeling toward you. By your dress I should imagine that youbelonged to a party to which I am opposed; but your language andmanners do not agree with your attire; and I think a hat and featherswould grace that head better than the steeple-crowned affair which nowcovers it. It may be that the dress is only assumed as a disguise: youknow best. However, as I say, I feel confidence in you, to whateverparty you may belong, and I give you credit for your prudence andreserve in these troubled times. I am a little older than you, and mayadvise you; and I am indebted to you, and can not therefore betrayyou--at least I trust you believe so."

  "I do believe it," replied Edward; "and I will so far answer you,Master Chaloner, that this attire of mine is not the one which I wouldwear, if I had my choice."

  "I believe that," replied Chaloner; "and I can not help thinking youare bound north on the same business as myself, which is, I confess toyou honestly, to strike a blow for the king. If you are on the sameerrand, I have two old relations in Lancashire, who are stanch to thecause; and I am going to their house to remain until I can join thearmy. If you wish it, you shall come with me, and I will promise youkind treatment and safety while under their roof."

  "And the names of these relatives of yours, Master Chaloner?" saidEdward.

  "Nay, you shall have them; for when I trust, I trust wholly. Their nameis Conynghame."

  Edward took his letters from out of his side-pocket, and handed one ofthem to his fellow-traveler. The address was, "To the worthy MistressConynghame, of Portlake, near Bolton, county of Lancashire."

  "It is to that address that I am going myself," said Edward, smiling."Whether it is the party you refer to, you best know."

  Chaloner burst out with a loud laugh.

  "This is excellent! Two people meet, both bound on the same business,both going to the same rendezvous, and for three days do not venture totrust each other."

  "The times require caution," replied Edward, as he replaced his letter.

  "You are right," answered Chaloner, "and you are of my opinion. I knownow that you have both prudence and courage. The first quality has beenscarcer with us Cavaliers than the last; however, now, all reserve isover, at least on my part."

  "And on mine also," replied Edward. Chaloner then talked about thechances of the war. He stated that King Charles's army was in a goodstate of discipline, and well found in everything; that there werehundreds in England who would join it, as soon as it had advanced farenough into England; and that every thing wore a promising appearance.

  "My father fell at the battle of Naseby, at the head of his retainers,"said Chaloner, after a pause; "and they have contrived to fine theproperty, so that it has dwindled from thousands down to hundreds.Indeed, were it not for my good old aunts, who will leave me theirestates, and who now supply me liberally, I should be but a poorgentleman."

  "Your father fell at Naseby?" said Edward. "Were you there?"

  "I was," replied Chaloner.

  "My father also fell at Naseby," said Edward.

  "Your father did?" replied Chaloner; "I do not recollect thename--Armitage--he was not in command there, was he?" continuedChaloner.

  "Yes, he was," replied Edward.

  "There was none of that name among the officers that I can recollect,young sir," replied Chaloner, with an air of distrust. "Surely you havebeen misinformed."

  "I have spoken the truth," replied Edward; "and have now said so muchthat I must, to remove your suspicion say more than perhaps I shouldhave done. My name is not Armitage, although I have been so called forsome time. You have set me the example of confidence, and I will followit. My father was Colonel Beverley, of Prince Rupert's troop."

  Chaloner started with astonishment.

  "I'm sure that what you say is true," at last said he; "for I wasthinking who it was that you reminded me of. You are the very pictureof your father. Although a boy at the time, I knew him well, MasterBeverley; a more gallant Cavalier never drew sword. Come, we must besworn friends in life and death, Beverley," continued Chaloner,extending his hand, which was eagerly grasped by Edward, who thenconfided to Chaloner the history of his life. When he had concluded,Chaloner said,

  "We all heard of the firing of Arnwood, and it is at this momentbelieved that all the children perished. It is one of the tales of woethat our nurses repeat to the children, and many a child has wept atyour supposed deaths. But tell me, now, had you not fallen in with me,was it your intention to have joined the army under your assumed nameof Armitage?"

  "I hardly know what I intended to do. I wanted a friend to advise me."

  "And you have found one, Beverley. I owe my life to you, and I willrepay the debt as far as is in my power. You must not conceal your nameto your sovereign; the very name of Beverley is a passport, but the sonof Colonel Beverley will be indeed welcomed. Why, the very name will beconsidered as a harbinger of good fortune. Your father was the best andtruest soldier that ever drew sword; and his memory stands unrivaledfor loyalty and devotion. We are near to the end of our journey; yonderis the steeple of Bolton church. The old ladies will be out of theirwits when they find that they have a Beverley under their roof."

  Edward was much delighted at this tribute paid to his father's memory;and the tears more than once started into his eyes as Chaloner renewedhis praise.

  Late in the evening they arrived at Portlake, a grand old mansionsituated in a park crowded with fine old timber. Chaloner wasrecognized, as they rode up the avenue, by one of the keepers, whohastened forward to announce his arrival; and the domestics had openedthe door for them before they arrived at it. In the hall they were metby the old ladies, who expressed their delight at seeing their nephew,as they had had great fear that something had happened to him.

  "And something did very nearly happen to me," replied Chaloner, "had itnot been for the timely assistance of my friend here, who,notwithstanding his Puritan attire, I hardly need tell you, is aCavalier devoted to the good cause, when I state that he is the son ofColonel Beverley, who fell at Naseby with my good father."

  "No one can be more welcome, then," replied the old ladies, whoextended their hands to Edward. They then went into a sitting-room, andsupper was ordered to be sent up immediately.

  "Our horses will be well attended to, Edward," said Chaloner; "we neednot any longer look after them ourselves. And now, good aunts, have youno letters for me?"

  "Yes, there are several; but you had better eat first."

  "Not so; let me have the letters; we can read them before supper, andtalk them over when at table."

  One of the ladies produced the letters, which Chaloner, as he readthem, handed over to Edward for his perusal. They were from GeneralMiddleton, and some other friends of Chaloner's who were with the army,giving him information as to what was going on, and what theirprospects were supposed to be.

  "You see that they have marched already," said Chaloner, "and I thinkthe plan is a good one, and it has put General Cromwell in an awkwardposition. Our army is now between his and London, with three days'march in advance. And we shall now be able to pick up our Englishadherents, who can join us without risk, as
we go along. It has been abold step, but a good one; and if they only continue as well as theyhave begun, we shall succeed. The Parliamentary army is not equal toours in numbers, as it is; and we shall add to ours dayly. The king hassent to the Isle of Man for the Earl of Derby, who is expected to jointo-morrow."

  "And where is the army at this moment?" inquired Edward.

  "They will be but a few miles from us to-night, their march is sorapid; to-morrow we will join, if it pleases."

  "Most willingly," replied Edward.

  After an hour's more conversation, they were shown into their rooms,and retired for the night.