No Quarter! Part 37

"My love,--We are inside Monmouth, thanks to little strategy I was able to effect, with the help of an old Low Country comrade, Kyrle, of Walford, whom you may know. For all, we had some sharp fighting by the bridge gate, where Kyrle proved himself worthy of his ancient repute as soldier and swordsman. Had we failed there this letter would not have been written, unless, perhaps, inside a prison. And now on that subject I'm sorry to say E. Trevor is still in one, but, unluckily, not at Monmouth. Taken by Harry Lingen from the Hereford side, they have carried him off that way, likely to Goodrich Castle.

What's worse, he has been wounded; whether severely or not, I haven't yet been able to ascertain. Soon as I can learn for certain where he is, and what the nature of his hurt, you shall hear from me, as I know your sister will be in a sad state of anxiety. We've made many prisoners, and now, commanding Monmouth, may hope to gather in a good many more. If we succeed in clearing the Wye's western bank of the wolves so long infesting it you may all safely return to Hollymead."

The letter did not conclude quite so abruptly. There were some expressions tenderer and of more private nature, which she was scarce permitted to read, much less dwell upon. For Vaga, all the while gazing in her face with a look of searching interrogation, saw a shadow pa.s.s over it, and unable longer to bear the suspense, cried out,--

"There's something wrong? Ah! it's Eustace; I know it is!"

"Nothing wrong with him more than we knew of already. He is still a prisoner; but, of course, not at Monmouth, or he'd have been released.

They have taken him away from there, as Richard thinks, to Goodrich Castle."

There was that in her manner, with the words and their tone of utterance, which led to a suspicion of either subterfuge or reticence.

And Vaga so suspecting, with another searching look into her eyes, exclaimed,--

"You've not told me all. There's something in that letter you fear to communicate. You need not, Sab. I'll try to be brave. Better for me to know the worst. Let _me_ read it."

Thus appealed to the elder sister gave way. The thing she desired to conceal must become known sooner or later. Perhaps as well, if not better, at once.

Tearing off that portion of the sheet on which were the words of tenderness concerning only herself, she pa.s.sed the other into the hands of her sister, saying,--

"All's there that interests you, Vag; and don't let it alarm you.

Remember that wounds are always made more of than--"

"Wounded!" came the interrupting cry from Vaga's lips, intoned with agony. "He's wounded--it may be to death! I shall go to Goodrich. If he die, I die with him!"

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN.

OLD COMRADES.

"Well, d.i.c.k, for a man who's just captured a city, you look strangely downhearted--more like as if you'd been captured yourself."

It was Colonel Robert Kyrle who made the odd observation; he to whom it was addressed being Colonel Sir Richard Walwyn. The time was between midnight and morning, some two hours after Monmouth had succ.u.mbed to their strategic _coup-de-main_; the place Kyrle's own quarters, whither he had conducted his old comrade-in-arms to give him lodgment for the rest of the night.

Snug quarters they were, in every way well provided. Kyrle was a man of money, and liked good living whether he fought for King or for Parliament. A table was between them, on which were some remains of a supper, with wines of the best, and they were quaffing freely, as might be expected of soldiers after a fight or fatiguing march.

"Yet to you," added Kyrle, "Ma.s.sey owes the taking of Monmouth."

"Rather say to yourself, Kyrle. Give the devil his due," returned the knight, with a peculiar smile.

Notwithstanding his serious mood at the moment, he could not resist a jest so opportune. He knew it would not offend his old comrade, as it did not. On the contrary, Kyrle seemed rather to relish it, with a light laugh rejoining,--

"Little fear of him you allude to being cheated of his dues this time.

No doubt for all that's been done I'll get my full share of credit, however little creditable to myself. They'll call me all sorts of names, the vilest in the Cavalier vocabulary; and, G.o.d knows, it's got a good stock of them. What care I? Not the shaking of straw. My conscience is clear, and my conduct guided by motives I'm not ashamed of--never shall be. You know them, Walwyn?"

"I do, and respect them. I was just in the act of explaining things to Ma.s.sey up by the Buckstone when your letter came--that carried in the cadger's wooden leg."

"Most kind of you, d.i.c.k; though nothing more than I expected. Soon as I heard of your being at the High Meadow, I made up my mind to join you there, even if I went alone as a common deserter. Never was man more disgusted with a cause than I with Cavalierism. It stinks of the beerhouse and _bagnio_; here in Monmouth spiced with Papistry--no improvement to its nasty savour. But the place will smell sweeter now.

I'll make it. Ma.s.sey has told me I'm to have command."

"You are the man for it," said the knight approvingly. "And I am glad he has given it to you. Nothing more than you're ent.i.tled to, after what you've done."

"Ah! 'tis you who did everything--planned everything. What clever strategy your thinking of such a ruse!"

"Not half so clever as your carrying it out."

"Well, d.i.c.k, between us we did the trick neatly, didn't we?"

"Nothing could have been better. But how near it came to miscarrying!

When they flung that Cornet in your teeth I almost gave it up."

"I confess to some misgiving myself then. It looked awkward for a while."

"That indeed. And how you got out of it! Your tale of his cowardice, and threat to make short work with him, were so well affected I could scarce keep from bursting into laughter. But what a simpleton that fellow who had command of the bridge guard! Was he one of those we cut down, think you?"

"I fancy he was, and fear it. Among my late comrades there were many I liked less than he."

"And the Cornet, to whom you gave credit for making such good use of his heels. Has he escaped?"

"I've no doubt he's justified what I said of him by using them again.

He's one that has a way of it. I suspect a great many of them got off on the other side--more than we've netted. But we shall know in the morning when we muster the birds taken, and beat up the covers where some will be in hiding. Hopelessly for them, as I'm acquainted with every hole and corner in Monmouth."

There was a short interval of silence, while Kyrle, as host, leant over the table, took up a flagon of sack, and replenished their empty cups.

On again turning to his guest he could see that same expression, which had led to him thinking him downhearted. Quite unlike what face of man should be wearing who had so late gained glory--reaped a very harvest of laurels--on more than one battlefield. The exciting topics just discoursed upon had for a time chased it away, but there it was once more.

"Bless me, Walwyn! what is the matter with you?" asked Kyrle, as he pushed the refilled goblet towards him. "You could not look more sadly solemn if I were Prince Rupert, and you my prisoner. Well, old comrade," he went on, without waiting for explanation, "if what's troubling you be a secret, I shan't press you to answer. A love affair, I suppose, so won't say another word."

"It _is_ a love affair in a way."

"Well, Walwyn! you're the last man I'd have looked for to get his heart entangled--"

"You mistake, Kyrle. It has nothing to do with my heart--in the sense you're thinking of."

"Whose heart then, or hearts? For there must be a pair of them."

"You know young Trevor?"

"I know all the Trevors--at least by repute."

"He I refer to is Eustace--son of Sir William, by Abergavenny."

"Ah! him I'm not personally acquainted with; though he's been here for several days--in prison. Lingen's men took him at Hollymead House, near Ruardean; brought him on to Monmouth on their way to Beachley; and going back have carried him with them to Goodrich Castle. They left but yesterday, late in the evening. He's got a wound, I believe."

"Yes. It's about that I'm uneasy. Can you tell me anything as to the nature of it? Dangerous, think you?"

"That I can't say, not having seen him myself. Some one spoke of his arm being in a sling. Likely it's but a sword cut, or the hack of a halbert. But why are you so concerned about him, d.i.c.k? He's no relative of yours."

"He's dearer to me than any relative I have, Kyrle. I love him as I would a brother. Besides, one, in whom I am interested, loves him in a different way."

"Ah, yes! the lady of course; prime source and root of all evil."