Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Young Castellan, by George Manville Fenn.

________________________________________________________________________
A Castellan is a person in charge of a castle, and that is what young
Roy Royland has become, while his father, Sir Granby, is away defending
his king.  For the time is about 1640, and there is a move afoot in the
country of England to do away with the monarchy.  In the castle most of
its old defences have not been used for many years, perhaps centuries,
and old Ben Martlet sets about restoring them, cleaning up the armour,
teaching young Roy the arts of self-defence, by putting him through a
course of fencing, by restoring the portcullis and draw-bridge, and by
training the men from the neighbouring farms to be soldiers.

But eventually, through treachery, the Roundheads, as those who oppose
the monarchy, are called, manage to take the castle, and to make Roy and
his mother, along with old Ben Martlet and the other defenders,
prisoner.  This can't do the management of the tenant farms much good.

Eventually Sir Granby, Roy's father, appears on the scene, and the
Roundheads are chased away.  As we know from our history books, the
Monarchy was restored, and peace spreads again through the land of
England.

________________________________________________________________________
THE YOUNG CASTELLAN, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.



CHAPTER ONE.

IN THE OLD ARMOURY.

"See these here spots o' red rust, Master Roy?"

"I should be blind as poor old Jenkin if I couldn't, Ben."

"Ay, that you would, sir.  Poor old Jenk, close upon ninety he be; and
that's another thing."

"What do you mean?" said the boy addressed.

"What do I mean, sir?  Why, I mean as that's another thing as shows as
old England's wore out, and rustin' and moulderin' away."

"Is this Dutch or English, Ben?" said the manly-looking boy, who had
just arrived at the age when dark lads get teased about not having
properly washed the sides of their faces and their upper lips, which
begin to show traces of something "coming up."  "I don't understand."

"English, sir," said the weather-beaten speaker, a decidedly ugly man of
about sixty, grizzly of hair and beard, deeply-lined of countenance, and
with a peculiar cicatrice extending from the upper part of his left
cheek-bone diagonally down to the right corner of his lips, and making
in its passage a deep notch across his nose.  "English, sir; good old
honest English."

"You're always grumbling, Ben, and you won't get the rust off that
morion with that."

"That I shan't, sir; and if I uses elber grease and sand, it'll only
come again.  But it's all a sign of poor old England rustin' and
moulderin' away.  The idea!  And at a place like this.  Old Jenk, as
watch at the gate tower, and not got eyes enough to see across the moat,
and even that's getting full o' mud!"

"Well, you wouldn't have father turn the poor old man away because he's
blind and worn-out."

"Not I, sir," said the man, moistening a piece of flannel with oil,
dipping it into some fine white sand, and then proceeding to scrub away
at the rust spots upon the old helmet, which he now held between his
knees; while several figures in armour, ranged down one side of the low,
dark room in which the work was being carried on, seemed to be looking
on and waiting to have their rust removed in turn.

"Then what do you mean?" said the boy.

"I mean, Master Roy, as it's a pity to see the old towers going down
hill as they are."

"But they're not," cried the boy.

"Not, sir?  Well, if you'll excuse me for saying as you're wrong, I'll
say it.  Where's your garrison? where's your horses? and where's your
guns, and powder, and shot, and stores?"

"Fudge, then!  We don't want any garrison nowadays, and as for horses,
why, it was a sin to keep 'em in those old underground stables that used
to be their lodging.  Any one would think you expected to have some one
come and lay siege to the place."

"More unlikely things than that, Master Roy.  We live in strange times,
and the king may get the worst of it any day."

"Oh, you old croaker!" cried Roy.  "I believe you'd like to have a lot
more men in the place, and mount guard, and go on drilling and
practising with the big guns."

"Ay, sir, I should; and with a place like this, it's what ought to be
done."

"Well, it wouldn't be bad fun, Ben," said the boy, thoughtfully.

"Fun, sir?  Don't you get calling serious work like that fun.--But look
ye there.  Soon chevy these spots off, don't I?"

"Yes, it's getting nice and bright," said Roy, gazing down at the steel
headpiece.

"And it's going to get brighter and better before I've done.  I'm going
to let Sir Granby see when he comes back that I haven't neglected
nothing.  I'm a-going to polish up all on 'em in turn, beginning with
old Sir Murray Royland.  Let me see: he was your greatest grandfather,
wasn't he?"

"Yes, he lived in 1480," said the boy, as the old man rose, set down the
morion, and followed him to where the farthest suit of mail stood
against the wall.  "I say, Ben, this must have been very heavy to wear."

"Ay, sir, tidy; but, my word, it was fine for a gentleman in those days
to mount his horse, shining in the sun, and looking as noble as a man
could look.  He's a bit spotty, though, it's been so damp.  But I'll
begin with Sir Murray and go right down 'em all, doing the steeliest
ones first, and getting by degrees to the last on 'em as is only steel
half-way down, and the rest being boots.  Ah! it's a dolesome change
from Sir Murray to Sir Brian yonder at the end, and worse still, to your
father, as wouldn't put nothing on but a breast-piece and back-piece and
a steel cap."

"Why, it's best," said the boy; "steel armour isn't wanted so much now
they've got cannon and guns."

"Ay, that's a sad come-down too, sir.  Why, even when I was out under
your grandfather, things were better and fighting fairer.  People tried
to see who was best man then with their swords.  Now men goes to hide
behind hedges and haystacks, to try and shoot you like they would a
hare."

"Why, they did the same sort of thing with their bows and arrows, Ben,
and their cross-bows and bolts."

"Well, maybe, sir; but that was a clean kind o' fighting, and none of
your sulphur and brimstone, and charcoal and smoke."

"I say, Ben, it'll take you some time to get things straight.  Mean to
polish up the old swords and spears, too?"

"Every man jack of 'em, sir.  I mean to have this armoury so as your
father, when he comes back from scattering all that rabble, will look
round and give me a bit of encouragement."

"Ha, ha!" laughed the boy; "so that's what makes you so industrious."

"Nay it aren't, sir," said the man, with a reproachful shake of his
head.  "I didn't mean money, Master Roy, but good words, and a sort o'
disposition to make the towers what they should be again.  He's a fine
soldier is your father, and I hear as the king puts a lot o' trust in
him; but it always seems to me as he thinks more about farming when he's
down here than he does about keeping up the old place as a good cavalier
should."

"Don't you talk a lot of nonsense," said Roy, hotly; "if my father likes
to live here as country gentlemen do, and enjoy sport and gardening and
farming, who has a better right to, I should like to know?"

"Oh, nobody, sir, nobody," said the man, scouring away at the rusted
steel.

"And besides, times are altered.  When this castle was built, gentlemen
used to have to protect themselves, and kept their retainers to fight
for them.  Now there's a regular army, and the king does all that."

That patch of rust must have been a little lighter on, for the man
uttered a low grunt of satisfaction.

"It would be absurd to make the towers just as they used to be, and shut
out the light and cover the narrow slits with iron bars."

"Maybe, Master Roy; but Sir Granby might have the moat cleared of mud,
and kept quite full."

"What!  I just hope it won't be touched.  Why, that would mean draining
it, and then what would become of my carp and tench?"

"Ketch 'em and put 'em in tubs, sir, and put some little uns back."

"Yes, and then it would take years for them to grow, and all the
beautiful white and yellow water-lilies would be destroyed."

"Yes; but see what a lot of fine, fat eels we should get, sir.  There's
some thumpers there.  I caught a four-pounder on a night-line last
week."

"Ah, you did, did you?" cried the lad; "then don't you do it again
without asking for leave."

"All right, sir, I won't; but you don't grudge an old servant like me
one eel?"

"Of course I don't, Ben," said the lad, importantly; "but the moat is
mine.  Father gave it to me as my own special fishing-place before he
went away, and I don't allow any one to fish there without my leave."

"I'll remember, sir," said the man, beginning to whistle softly.

"I don't grudge you a _few_ eels, Ben, and you shall have plenty; but
next time you want to fish, you ask."

"Yes, sir, I will."

"And what you say is all nonsense: the place is beautiful as it is.
Why, I believe if you could do as you liked, you'd turn my mother's
pleasaunce and the kitchen-garden into drill-grounds."

"That I would, sir," said the man, flushing up.  "The idea of a
beautiful square of ground, where the men might be drilled, and practise
with sword and gun, being used to grow cabbages in.  Er! it's horrid!"

Roy laughed.

"You're a rum fellow, Ben," he cried.  "I believe you think that people
were meant to do nothing else but fight and kill one another."

"Deal better than spending all their time over books, sir," said the
man; "and you take my advice.  You said something to me about being a
statesman some day, and serving the king that way.  Now, I s'pose I
don't know exactly what a statesman is, but I expect it's something o'
the same sort o' thing as Master Pawson is, and--You won't go and tell
him what I says, sir?"

"Do you want me to kick you, Ben?" said the boy, indignantly.

"Oh, I don't know, sir," said the man, with a good-humoured smile
lighting up his rugged features; "can, if you like.  Wouldn't be the
first time by many a hundred."

"What!  When did I kick you?"

"Lots o' times when you was a little un, and I wouldn't let you drown
yourself in the moat, or break your neck walking along the worsest parts
o' the ramparts, or get yourself trod upon by the horses.  Why, I've
known you kick, and squeal, and fight, and punch me as hard as ever you
could."

"And did it hurt you, Ben?"

"Hurt me, sir?  Not it.  I liked it.  Showed you was made o' good stuff,
same good breed as your father; and I used to say to myself, `That young
cub'll turn out as fine a soldier as his father some day, and I shall
have the job o' training him.'  But deary me, deary me, old England's
a-wasting all away!  You aren't got the sperrit you had, my lad; and
instead o' coming to me cheery-like, and saying, `Now, Ben, get out the
swords and let's have a good fence, or a bit o' back-sword or
broad-sword-play, or a turn with the singlestick or staves,' you're
always a-sticking your nose into musty old parchments, or dusty books,
along o' Master Palgrave Pawson.  Brrr!"

The latter was a low growl, following a loud smack given to the side of
the helmet, after which, as the lad stood fretting and fuming, the old
servant scrubbed away at the steel furiously.

"It isn't true, Ben," the boy cried at last, indignantly; "and perhaps
I'm going to be a soldier after all, especially if this trouble goes
on."

"Tchaw! trouble goes on!" said the man, changing the steel headpiece for
a cuirass.  "There won't be no trouble.  First time your father gets a
sight of the mob of tailors, and shoemakers, and tinkers, with an old
patch-work counterpane atop of a clothes-prop for their flag, he'll ride
along the front of his ridgement of cavaliers, and he'll shout to 'em in
that big voice of his as I've followed many's the time; and `Don't draw,
gentlemen,' he'll say; `ride the scum down, and make the rest run;' and
then they'll all roar with laughing loud enough to drown the trumpet
charge.  My word, I'd a gi'n something to ha' been there to see the
rebels fly like dead leaves before a wind in November.  But it were a
mean and a cruel thing, Master Roy.  Look at that arm, look at these
legs!  I'm a better and a stronger man than ever I was, and could sit
any horse they'd put me on.  But to leave an old soldier, as had
followed him as I have, at home here to rust like the rest o' things,
when there was a chance for a bit o' fun, it went right to my 'art, sir,
and it seemed to me as if it warn't the master as I used to sit with in
the ranks."

The old fellow was bending now over the breastplate and rubbing hard,
while as Roy listened to his excited words, wondering at the way in
which he seemed to resent what he looked upon as a slight, something
dropped upon the polished steel with a pat, and spread out; and Roy
thought to himself that if that drop of hot salt water stayed there, it
would make a deeper rust spot than anything.

But it did not stay, for the man hastily rubbed it away, and began with
a rough show of indifference to hum over an old Devon song, something
about "A morn in May, to hear birds whistle and see lambkins play."

But he ceased as the boy laid a hand upon his shoulder, and bent over
the breastplate and rubbed at it very slowly, listening intently the
while.

"Don't you get thinking that, Ben Martlet," said the boy, gently;
"father wanted to take you, and he said you were not too old."

"Nay, nay, nay, sir; don't you get trying to ile me over.  I know."

"But you don't know," said the boy, hotly; "he said he should take you,
but my mother asked him not to."

"Ay, she would, sir.  She won't let you be a soldier, and she comes over
your father as I was too old and helpless to be any good."

"You're a stupid, pig-headed, old chump," cried Roy, angrily.

"Yes, sir; that's it; now you're at me too.  Rusty, and worn-out, and
good for nothing; but it'll soon be over.  I used to think it must be
very horrid to have to die, but I know better now, and I shan't be sorry
when my turn comes."

"Will--you--listen to--what--I have--to say?" cried the boy.

"Oh, ay, sir, I'll listen.  You're my master, now Sir Granby's away, and
nobody shan't say as Ben Martlet didn't do his dooty as a soldier to the
end, even if he is set to dig in a garden as was once a castle
court-yard."

"Oh, you obstinate old mule!" cried Roy, gripping the man's shoulders,
as he stood behind him, sawing him to and fro, and driving his knee
softly into the broad strong back.  "Will you listen?"

"Yes, sir, I'll listen; but that's only your knee.  Kick the old
worn-out mule with your boot-toe, and--"

"I've a good mind to," cried Roy.  "Now listen: my mother begged of
father to leave you here."

"Oh, ay, of course."

"Quiet!" roared Roy, "or I will really kick--hard; because she said she
would feel safer, and that, if any trouble did arise with some of the
men, Martlet would put it down at once, and everything would go right."

The cuirass went down on the dark oaken boards with a loud clang, and
the old soldier sprang to his feet panting heavily.

"Her ladyship said that?" he cried.

"Yes."

"Say it again, sir; say it again!" he cried, in a husky voice.

Roy repeated the words.

"Yes, yes, sir; and what--what did Sir Granby say to that?"

"Said he was very sorry and very glad."

"What?"

"Sorry to leave you, because it didn't seem natural to go back to the
regiment without his right-hand man."

"Right-hand man?"

"Yes; but he was glad my mother felt so about you, for he could go away
more contented now, and satisfied that all would be right.  For though--
ahem!--he had the fullest confidence in me, I was too young to have the
management of men."

"Wrong, wrong, sir--wrong.  On'y want a bit o' training, and you'd make
as good a captain as ever stepped.--Then it was her ladyship's doing,
and she said all that?"

"Yes."

"God bless her! my dear mistress.  Here, don't you take no notice o'
this here," cried the rough fellow, changing his tone, and undisguisedly
wiping the salt tears from his face.  "I don't work so much as I ought,
sir, and this here's only what you calls presperashum, sir, as collects,
and will come out somewheres.  And so her ladyship says that, did her?"

"Yes, Ben."

"Then why haven't I knowed this afore?  Here's three months gone by
since the master went to take command of his ridgement, and I see him
off.  Ay, I did send him off looking fine, and here have I been eating
my heart out ever since.  Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, I don't know.  Yes, I do.  Of course, I wasn't going to tattle
about what my father and mother said, but when I heard you talk as you
did, and seem so cut up and unjust, why, I did."

"Here, let me have it, my lad!  Kick away!  Jump on me for an old fool.
Why, I'm as blind as old Jenk.  Worse.--She'd feel safer if there was
any trouble.  Bless her!  Oh, what an old fool I've been.  No wonder
I've got so weak and thin."

"Ha, ha, ha!"

"What are you laughing at, sir?"

"You weak and thin!  Why, you're as strong as a horse."

"Well, I am, Master Roy," said the man, with a grim smile of pride.
"But I have got a bit thin, sir."

"Not a bit thinner."

"Well, I aren't enjoyed my vittles since the master went, sir.  You
can't contradick that."

"No, and don't want to; but you did eat a four or five pound eel that
you'd no right to catch."

"That I didn't, sir.  I give it to poor old Jenk to make a pie.  I never
tasted it."

"Then you may catch as many as you like, Ben, without asking."

"Thank you, sir; but I don't want to go eeling now.  Here, let's have
all this fighting-tackle so as you can see your face in it.  But I say,
my lad, do 'ee, now do 'ee, alter your mind; leave being statesman to
them soft, smooth kind o' fellows like Master Pawson."

"I don't see why one couldn't be a statesman and a soldier too," said
the boy.

"I don't know nothing about that sort, sir; but I do know how to handle
a sword or to load a gun.  I do say, though, as you're going wrong
instead of right."

"How?"

"How, sir?  Just look at your hands."

"Well, what's the matter with them?" said the boy, holding them out.

Ben Martlet uttered a low, chuckling laugh.

"I'll tell you, sir.  S'pose any one's badly, and the doctor comes; what
does he do first?"

"Feels his pulse."

"What else?"

"Looks at his tongue."

"That's it, my lad; and he knows directly from his tongue what's the
matter with him.  Now, you see, Master Roy, I aren't a doctor."

"Not you, Ben; doctors cure people; soldiers kill 'em."

"Not always, Master Roy," said the old fellow, whose face during the
last few minutes had lit up till he seemed in the highest of glee.
"Aren't it sometimes t'other way on?  But look here: doctors look at
people's tongues to see whether they wants to be physicked, or to have
their arms or legs cut off.  I don't.  I looks at a man's hand to see
what's the matter with him, and if I see as he's got a soft, white hand
like a gal's, I know directly he's got no muscles in his arms, no spring
in his back, and no legs to nip a horse's ribs or to march fifty mile in
a day.  Now, just look at yours."

"Oh, I can't help what my hands are like," said the boy, impatiently.

"Oh, yes, you can, sir.  You've been a-neglecting of 'em, sir, horrible;
so just you come to me a little more and let me harden you up a bit.  If
you've got to be a statesman, you won't be none the worse for being able
to fight, and ride, and run.  Now, will you? and--There's some one
a-calling you, my lad."

"Yes, coming!" cried Roy; and he hurried out of the armoury into a long,
dark passage, at the end of which a window full of stained glass
admitted the sunbeams in a golden, scarlet, blue, and orange sheaf of
rays which lit up the tall, stately figure of a lady, to whom the boy
ran with a cry of--

"Yes, mother!"



CHAPTER TWO.

ROY'S MOTHER AND TUTOR.

"I had missed you, Roy," said the lady, smiling proudly on the boy; and
he looked with eyes full of pride at the beautiful woman, who now rested
her arm upon his shoulder and walked by his side into the more homelike
part of the old fortalice, whose grim interior had been transformed by
wainscoting, hangings, carpets, stained glass, and massive oak furniture
into the handsome mansion of the middle of the seventeenth century.

They passed down a broad staircase into a noble hall, and from thence
into a library whose broad, low, mullioned stone window opened into what
had been the inner court of the castle, whose ramparts and flanking
corner towers were still there; but the echoing stones that had once
paved it had given place to verdant lawn, trim flower-beds ablaze with
bloom, quaintly-cut shrubs, and creepers which beautified the walls once
so bare and grim.

"I want to talk to you, Roy," said Lady Royland, sinking into a great
formal chair.  "Bring your stool and sit down."

"Got too big for the stool, mother," said the boy; "I can't double up my
legs close enough.  I'll sit here."

He threw himself upon the thick carpet at her feet, and rested his arms
upon her lap.

"Want to talk to me?  I'd rather hear you read."

"Not now, my dear."

"Why, what's the matter, mother?" said the boy, anxiously.  "You're as
white as can be.  Got one of your headaches?"

"No, my boy,--at least, my head does ache.  But it is my heart, Roy,--my
heart."

"Then you've heard bad news," cried the boy.  "Oh, mother, tell me; what
is it?  Not about father?"

"No, no; Heaven forbid, my dear," cried Lady Royland, wildly.  "It is
the absence of news that troubles me so."

"I ought to say us," said Roy, angrily; "but I'm so selfish and
thoughtless."

"Don't think that, my boy.  You are very young yet, but I do wish you
would give more thought to your studies with Master Pawson."

The boy frowned.

"I wish you'd let me read with you, mother," he said.  "I understand
everything then, and I don't forget it; but when that old--"

"Master Palgrave Pawson," said Lady Royland, reprovingly, but with a
smile.

"Oh, well, Master Palgrave Pawson.  P.P., P.P.  What a mouthful it seems
to be!"

"Roy!"

"I've tried, mother; but I do get on so badly with him.  I can't help
it; I don't like him, and he doesn't like me, and it will always be the
same."

"But why?  Why do you not like him?"

"Because--because--well, he always smiles at me so."

"That does not seem as if he disliked you.  Rather the reverse."

"He's so smooth and oily."

"It is only his manner, my dear.  He seems to be very sincere, and to
have your welfare at heart."

"Yes, that's it, mother; he won't let me alone."

"But he is your tutor, my dear.  You know perfectly well that he came to
be your father's secretary and your tutor combined."

"Yes, I know, mother," said the boy, impatiently; "but somehow he
doesn't seem to teach me."

"But he is very studious, and tries hard."

"Yes, I know.  But he seems to think I'm about seven instead of nearly
seventeen, and talks to me as if I were a very little boy, and--and--and
we don't get on."

"This sounds very sad, Roy, and I cannot bear to have a fresh trouble
now.  Your studies are so important to us."

Roy reached up to get his arms round his mother's neck, drew her head
down, and kissed her lovingly.

"And she shan't have any more trouble," he cried.  "I'll get wonderfully
fond of old Paw."

"Roy!"

"Master Palgrave Pawson, then; and I'll work at my lessons and classics
like a slave.  But you will read with me, too, mother?"

"As much as you like, my son.  Thank you.  That has taken away part of
my load."

"I wish I could take away the rest; but I know you're fidgeting because
father hasn't written, and think that something has happened to him.
But don't you get fancying that, because there can't be anything.
They've only gone after a mob of shoemakers and tailors with a
counterpane for flag, and father will scatter them all like dead
leaves."

"Roy!  My boy, these are not your words?"

"No, mother; old Ben Martlet said something of that kind to me this
morning."

"Does he not know, then, how serious it is?"

"Serious?  What do you mean by serious?"

Lady Royland drew a deep breath, and laid her hand upon her side as if
in pain.

"Why, mother," repeated the boy, "what do you mean by serious?"

"This trouble--this rising, my dear.  We have had no news, but Master
Pawson has had letters from London, and he tells me that what was
supposed to be a little petty discontent has grown into a serious
revolution."

Roy gazed in his mother's troubled face as if he did not quite
comprehend the full extent of her words.

"Well, and if it has, mother, what then?"

"What then, my boy?"

"Yes.  You've nothing to fidget about.  Father is there with his men,
and he'll soon put a stop to it all.  You know how stern he can be when
people misbehave."

"My dear Roy, this, I am afraid, is going to be no little trouble that
your father can put down with his men.  Master Pawson tells me that
there is every prospect of its being a civil war."

"What!  Englishmen fighting against Englishmen?"

"Yes; a terrible fratricidal war."

"But who has quarrelled, mother?  Oh, the king will soon stop it."

"Roy, my boy, we have kept you so shut up here in this retired place for
home study, instead of parting with you to send you to one of the great
schools, that in some things you are as ignorant as I."

"Oh, mother!" cried the boy, laughing.  "You ignorant!  I only wish I
were half as learned and clever.  Why, father said--"

"Yes, yes, dear; but that is only book-learning.  We have been so happy
here that the jarring troubles of politics and the court have not
reached our ears; and I, for one, never gave them a thought till, after
all these years of peacefulness, your father found himself compelled to
obey the call of duty, and left us.  We both thought that it was only
for a week or two, and then the disturbance would be at an end; but
every letter he has sent me has contained worse news, till now it is
nearly a month since I have heard from him."

"Then it is because he is putting down the rioters," said Roy, quickly.

"Rioters, my boy!  Rebels you should say, for I fear that a great
attempt is to be made to overthrow the monarchy.  Master Pawson's
informants assure him that this is the case, and before long, he says,
there must be an encounter between the Royal and the Parliamentary
troops."

"Is Master Pawson right, mother?  Royal troops--Parliamentary troops?
Why, they're all the same."

"No, Roy; there is a division--a great division, I fear, and
discontented people are taking the side against the king."

"Then I'm sorry for them," said the boy, flushing.  "They'll get a most
terrible beating, these discontented folks."

"Let us hope so, my boy, so that there may be an end to this terrible
anxiety.  To those who have friends whom they love in the army, a
foreign war is dreadful enough; but when I think of the possibility of a
war here at home, with Englishmen striving against Englishmen, I
shudder, and my heart seems to sink."

"Look here," cried the boy, as he rose and stood with his hand resting
upon his mother's shoulder, "you've been fidgeting and fancying all
sorts of things, because you haven't heard from father."

"Yes, yes," said Lady Royland, faintly.

"Then you mustn't, mother.  'Tis as I say; he is too busy to write, or
else he hasn't found it easy to send you a letter.  I'll take the pony
and ride over to Sidecombe and see when the Exeter wagon comes in.
There are sure to be letters for you, and even if there are not, it will
make you more easy for me to have been to see, and I can bring you back
what news there is.  I'll go at once."

Lady Royland took hold of her son's hand and held it fast.

"No," she said, making an effort to be firm.  "We will wait another day.
I have been fidgeting, dear, as you say, and it has made me nervous and
low-spirited; but I'm better now for talking to you, my boy, and letting
you share my trouble.  I dare say I have been exaggerating."

"But I should like to ride over, mother."

"You shall go to-morrow, Roy; but even then I shall be loath to let you.
There, you see I am quite cheerful again.  You are perfectly right;
your father is perhaps away with his men, and he may have sent, and the
letter has miscarried in these troublous times."

"I shouldn't like to be the man who took it, if it has miscarried," said
the boy, laughing.

"Poor fellow! it may have been an accident.  There, go to Master Pawson
now; and Roy, my dear, don't talk about our trouble to any one for the
present."

"Not to old Pawson?"

"Master Pawson."

"Not to Master Pawson?" said Roy, smiling.

"Not unless he speaks to you about it; then, of course, you can."

"But he won't, mother.  He only talks to me about the Greek and Latin
poets and about music.  I say, you don't want to see me squeezing a big
fiddle between my knees and sawing at it with a bow as if I wanted to
cut all the strings, do you, mother?"

"My dear boy, not unless you wished to learn the violoncello."

"Well, I don't," said Roy, pettishly; "but old Master Pawson is always
bringing his out of its great green-baize bag and talking to me about
it.  He says that he will instruct me, and he is sure that my father
would have one sent to me from London if I asked him.  Just as if there
are not noises enough in the west tower now without two of us sawing
together.  _Thrrum, thrrum, throomp, throomp, throomp_!"

Roy struck an attitude as if playing, running his left hand up and down
imaginary strings while he scraped with his right, and produced no bad
imitation of the vibrating strings with his mouth.

"I should not dislike for you to play some instrument to accompany my
clavichord, Roy," said Lady Royland, smiling at the boy's antics.

"Very well, then; I'll learn the trumpet," cried the lad.  "I'm off now
to learn--not music."

"One moment, Roy, my dear," said Lady Royland, earnestly.  "Don't let
your high spirits get the better of your discretion."

"Of course not, mother."

"You do not understand me, my dear.  I am speaking very seriously now.
I mean, do not let Master Pawson think that you ridicule his love of
music.  It would be very weak and foolish, and lower you in his eyes."

"Oh, I'll mind, mother."

"Recollect that he is a scholar and a gentleman, and in your father's
confidence."

Roy nodded, and his lips parted as if to speak, but he closed them
again.

"What were you going to say, Roy?"

"Oh, nothing, mother."

"Nothing?"

"Well, only--that--I was going to say, do you like Master Pawson?"

"As your tutor and your father's secretary, yes.  He is a very clever
man, I know."

"Yes, he's a very clever man," said Roy, as, after kissing his mother
affectionately, he went off towards the west tower, which had been
specially fitted up as study and bedchamber for the gentleman who had
come straight from Oxford to reside at Sir Granby Royland's seat a
couple of years before this time.  "Yes, he's a very clever man," said
Roy to himself; "but I thought I shouldn't like him the first day he
came, and I've gone on thinking so ever since.  I don't know why, but--
Oh, yes, I do," cried the boy, screwing up his face with a look of
disgust: "it's because, as he says, I've no soul for music."

For just at that moment a peculiar long-drawn wailing sound came from
the open window of the west tower, and a dog lying curled up on the
grass in the sun sprang up and began to bark, finishing off with a long,
low howl, as it stretched out its neck towards the open window.

"Poor old Nibbs! he has no soul for it, either," said the boy to
himself, as his face lit up with a mirthful expression.  "It woke him
up, and he thought it was cats.  Wonder what tune that is?  He won't
want me to interrupt him now.  Better see, though, and speak to him
first, and then I'll go and see old Ben polish the armour."



CHAPTER THREE.

COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE.

The wail on one string went on, and naturally sounded louder as Roy
Royland opened a door to stand gazing in at the quaint octagonal room,
lit by windows splayed to admit more light to the snug quarters hung
with old tapestry, and made cosy with thick carpet and easy-chair, and
intellectual with dwarf book-cases filled with choice works.  These had
overflowed upon the floor, others being piled upon the tops of chairs
and stacked in corners wherever room could be found, while some were
even ranged upon the narrow steps of the corkscrew stone staircase which
led to the floor above, occupied by Master Palgrave Pawson for a
bedchamber, the staircase being continued up to the leads, where it
ended in a tiny turret.

"I wonder what father will say, my fine fellow, when he finds what a lot
of his books you've brought up out of the library," said Roy to himself,
as he stood watching the plump, smooth-faced youngish man, who, with an
oblong music-book open before him on the table, was seated upon a stool,
with a 'cello between his legs, gravely sawing away at the strings, and
frowning severely whenever, through bad stopping with his fingers--and
that was pretty often--he produced notes "out of tune and harsh."  The
musician was dressed, according to the fashion of the day, in dark
velvet with a lace collar, and wore his hair long, so that it
inconvenienced him; the oily curls, hanging down on either side of his
fat face like the valance over an old-fashioned four-post bedstead,
swaying to and fro with the motion of the man's body, and needing, from
time to time, a vigorous shake to force them back when they encroached
too far forward and interfered with his view of the music.

The slow, solemn, dirge-like air went on, but the player did not turn
his head, playing away with grave importance, and giving himself a
gentle inclination now and then to make up for the sharp twitches caused
by the tickling hair.

"You saw me," said Roy, speaking to himself, but at the musician, "for
one of your eyes turned this way; but you won't speak till you've got to
the end of that bit of noise.  Oh, how I should like to shear off those
long greasy curls!  They make you look worse even than you do when
they're all twisted up in pieces of paper.  It doesn't suit your round,
fat face.  You don't look a bit like a cavalier, Master P.P.; but I
suppose you're a very good sort of fellow, or else father would not have
had you here."

Just then the music ended with an awkwardly performed run up an octave
and four scrapes across the first and second strings.

"Come in, boy," said the player, taking up a piece of resin to apply to
the hair of the bow, "and shut the door."

He spoke in a highly-pitched girlish voice, which somehow always tickled
Roy and made him inclined to laugh, and the desire increased upon this
occasion as he said, solemnly--

"Saraband."

"Oh!  Who's she?" said the boy, wonderingly.

The secretary threw his head back, shaking his curls over his broad
turn-down collar, and smiled pityingly.

"Ah," he said, "now this is another proof of your folly, Roy, in
preferring the society of the servants to that of the noble works with
which your father has stored his library.  What ignorance!  A saraband
is a piece of dance music, Italian in origin; and that was a very
beautiful composition."

"Dance?" cried the boy.  "People couldn't dance to a tune like that.  I
thought it was an old dirge."

"Want of taste and appreciation, boy.  But I see you would prefer
something light and sparkling.  I will--sit down--play you a coranto."

It was on Roy's lips to say, "Oh, please don't," but he contented
himself with crossing the room, lifting some books off an oaken
window-seat, his tutor watching him keenly the while, and putting them
on the floor; while, with his head still thrown back on one side, Master
Palgrave Pawson slowly turned over the leaves of his music-book with the
point of his bow.

Roy seated himself, with a sigh, after a glance down through the open
window at the glistening moat dotted with the great silver blossoms and
dark flat leaves of the water-lilies, seeing even from there the shadowy
forms of the great fish which glided slowly among the slimy stalks.

"Ready?" said the musician, giving his hand a flourish.

"Yes, sir," said Roy, aloud; and then to himself, "Oh, what an awful
fib."  Then he wrinkled up his brows dismally, and began to think of old
Ben polishing the armour and swords; but the next moment his face
smoothed out stiffly, and he grew red in his efforts to keep from
laughing aloud, for Master Pawson commenced jerking and snatching from
the strings a remarkable series of notes, which followed one another in
a jigging kind of fairly rapid sequence, running up and down the gamut
and in and out, as if the notes of the composer had suddenly become
animated, and, like some kind of tiny, big-headed, long-tailed goblins,
were chasing one another in and out of the five lines of the stave,
leaping from bar to bar, never stopping for a rest, making fun of the
flats and sharps, and finally pausing, breathless and tired, as the
player now finally laid down the bow, took out a fine laced
handkerchief, and began to wipe his fingers and mop his brow.

"There," he said, smiling; "you like that bright, sparkling composition
better?"

"No," said Roy, decisively; "no, I don't think I do."

"I am glad of it; very glad of it.  I was afraid that you preferred the
light and trivial coranto to the graceful saraband."

"But, I say.  Master Pawson, the Italians surely don't dance to such
music as that?"

"I have never been in Italy, my dear pupil, but I believe they do.
Going?"

Roy had risen from his chair.

"Yes, sir; I thought, as you were practising, you would not want me to
stop and read to-day, and you are writing a letter, too."

"Letter?" said the secretary, hurriedly reaching towards an open sheet
upon the table and turning it over with the point of his bow.  "Oh,
that?  Yes, some notes--some notes.  Well, it is a fine day, and
exercise is good, and perhaps I shall run through a few more
compositions.  So you can go, and we will study a little in the evening,
for we must not neglect our work, Roy, my dear pupil; we must not
neglect our work."

"No, sir.  Thank you, sir," said the boy; and, for fear of a change of
decision, he hurried from the room and made his way out upon the old
ramparts, to begin walking leisurely round the enclosed garden, and
looking outward from the eminence upon which the castle was built across
the moat at the foot, and away over the sunny forest towards the village
and little church, whose spire rose about two miles away.

"I wish he wouldn't always call me `my dear pupil,' and smile at me as
if he looked down from ever so high up.  I don't know how it is, but I
always feel as if I don't like him.  I suppose it's because he's so
plump and smooth.

"Seems hard," mused the boy, seating himself in one of the crenellations
of the rampart, and thinking deeply, "that he should get letters with
news from London, and poor mother not have a line.  That was a letter on
the table, though he pretended it was not, for I could see it began like
one.  I didn't want to read it.  Perhaps he was ashamed of being always
writing letters.  Don't matter to me.  Afraid, perhaps, that he'll be
told that he ought to attend more to teaching me.  Wish he'd be always
writing letters.  I can learn twice as much reading with mother."

It was very beautiful in that sunny niche in the mouldering stones close
to the tower farthest away from that occupied by the secretary, and a
spot much favoured by the boy, for from there he could look right over
the square gate-way with its flanking towers, and the drawbridge which
was never drawn, and the portcullis which was never lowered.

"Can't hear him playing here," thought Roy that day; and he
congratulated himself upon the fact, without pausing to think that the
distance was so short that the notes should have been audible.

Roy had been successful in getting off his reading with the tutor, but
he was very undecided what to do next, for there were so many things to
tempt him, and his mind kept on running in different directions.  One
minute he was dwelling on his mother's troubles and the want of news
from his father, and from this it was a natural transition to thinking
of how grand it would be if he could prevail upon her to let him go up
to that far-away mysterious city, which it took days to reach on
horseback, and then he could take her letter and find where his father
was lying with his regiment, and see the army,--maybe see the king and
queen, and perhaps his father might let him stay there,--at all events
for a time.

Then he was off to thinking about the great moat, for twice over a
splash rose to his ears, and he could see the rings of water which
spread out and made the lily-leaves rise and fall.

"That was the big tench," he said to himself.  "Must catch that fellow
some day.  He must weigh six or seven pounds.  It ought to be a good
time now.  Want a strong line, though, and a big hook, for he'd run in
and out among the lily-stems and break mine.  Now, if I knew where
father was, I could write and ask him to buy me one and send it down by
his next letter.  No: he wouldn't want to be bothered to buy me
fishing-lines when he's with his regiment.  I know," he said to himself,
after a pause; "old Ben has got the one he caught the big eel with.
I'll make him lend me that.  Poor old Ben! who'd ever have thought that
he could cry.  For it was crying just as a little boy would.  Seems
funny, because he has been a brave soldier, and saved father's life
once.  Shouldn't have thought a man like that could cry."

Roy began to whistle softly, and then picked up a little cushion-like
patch of velvety green moss and pitched it down towards a jackdaw that
was sitting on a projecting stone just below a hole, watching him
intently, first with one eye and then with the other, as if puzzled to
know what he was doing so near to his private residence, where his wife
was sitting upon a late batch of eggs, an accident connected with rats
having happened to the first.

It did not occur to the bird that it was quite impossible for its
nesting-place to be reached without a swing down from above by a rope;
but, being still puzzled, it tried to sharpen its intellectual faculties
by standing on one leg and scratching its grey poll with the claws of
the other, a feat which made it unsteady and nearly topple over towards
the deep moat below.

"_Tah_!" it cried, in resentment of the insult when the little green
moss cushion was thrown; and, as the bird sailed away, Roy rose and
walked slowly along the rampart, through the corner tower, and then on
towards the front, where that over the outer gate-way stood tall,
massive, and square.  Here the boy left the rampart, entered through a
low arched door, and stood in the great chamber over the main gate-way,
where the rusty chains were wound round the two capstans, held fast now
by their checks, and suspending the huge grated portcullis, with its
spikes high enough to be clear of a coachman driving a carriage.

"Wonder whether we could let that down?" thought Roy.

He had often had the same thought, but it came very strongly now, and he
began to calculate how many men it would take to lower the portcullis,
and whether he, Ben, and a couple more could manage it.

"Looks as if everything must be set fast with rust," he thought, and he
was about to turn and descend; but as he reached the corner where the
spiral steps led down, he stood where they also led up to another
chamber in the massive stone-work, and again higher to the leads.

The result was that in his idle mood Roy began to ascend, to find
half-way up, by the slit which gave light, that the jackdaws had been
busy there too, coming in and out by the loop-hole, and building a nest
which was supported upon a scaffolding of sticks which curved up from
the stone step on which it rested, and from that to the splay and sill
by the loop-hole.

"Only an old one," said the boy to himself, and he brought the great
edifice down with a sharp kick or two, thinking that it must be about a
year since any one had come up that way.

"What a lot of the old place seems no use!" he said to himself, as, with
the dry sticks crackling beneath his feet, he climbed up the dark
stairway and entered the next chamber through its low arched door.

"Why, what a jolly private room this would make!" he said to himself;
"only wants a casement in and some furniture.  I'll ask father to let me
have it for my play--I mean study; no, I don't--I mean odds and ends
place."

He paused--after glancing out at the beautiful view over the woodland
country dotted with meadow-like pastures in which the ruddy cattle of
the county grazed--by the open fireplace with the arms of the Roylands
cut in stone beneath the narrow shelf, and the sight of this opening,
with the narrow, well-made chimney and some projecting stone blocks from
the fire-back, set him thinking.

"Fight differently now," he said, as he recalled the object of the
furnace before him, and how he had heard or read that it was used on
purpose to melt lead ready for pouring down upon the besiegers who might
have forced their way across the drawbridge to the portcullis.  "Fancy
melting lead here to pour down upon men's heads!  What wretches we must
have been in the old days."

He altered his mind, though, directly, as he went back to the stairway.

"Perhaps we never did pour any down, for I don't think anybody ever did
attack the castle."

Thinking he might as well go a little higher, he mounted the spiral
instead of descending, the dry elm twigs brought in by the jackdaws
which made the untenanted corners their home crackling again beneath his
feet.

Passing out of the corner turret, which supported a stout, new
flag-pole, he was now on the leaded roof of the great square tower,
which frowned down upon the drawbridge and gazed over the outer
gate-way, in whose tower old Jenkin Bray, the porter, dwelt, and whom
Roy could now see sitting beside the modern iron gate sunning himself,
his long white hair and beard glistening in the light.

There were openings for heavy guns in front here, and a broad, level,
projecting parapet with a place where the defenders could kneel, and
which looked like a broad seat at the first glance, while at its foot
was a series of longish, narrow, funnel-shaped openings, over which the
boy stood, gazing down through them at the entrance to the main
gate-way, noting how thoroughly they commanded the front of where the
portcullis would stand when dropped, and where any enemies attacking and
trying to break through would be exposed to a terrible shower of molten
lead, brought up from the furnace in the chamber below to pour down upon
the besiegers, while those who assailed them were in perfect safety.

"Horrid!" muttered Roy; "but I don't know; the enemy should stop away
and leave the people in the castle alone.  But hot lead!  Boiling water
wouldn't seem so bad.  But surely Master Pawson's friend is wrong; we
can't be going to have war here in England.  Well, if we do, there's
nothing to bring them here."

Roy left the machicolations and knelt upon the broad stone seat-like
place to stretch himself across the parapet, and look down, over the
narrow patch of stone paving, down into the deep moat, whose waters were
lit up by the sunshine, so that the boy could see the lily and other
water-plant stems and clumps of reed mace; at the farther edge the great
water-docks and plantains, with the pink-blossomed rush.  But his
attention was wholly riveted by the fish which swarmed in the sunny
depths, and for a time he lay there upon his breast, kicking up his
heels and studying the broad-backed carp, some of which old age had
decked with patches of greyish mould.  There were fat tench, too,
walloping about among the lilies, and appearing to enjoy the pleasure of
forcing their way in and out among the leaves and stems; while the carp
sailed about in the open water, basking in the sunshine, and seemed to
find their satisfaction in leaping bodily out of the water to fall back
with a splash.

There were roach, too, in shoals, and what seemed remarkable was that
they kept swimming close up to where a great pike of nearly three feet
long lay motionless, close to a patch of weed.

"Must be asleep," thought Roy, "or not hungry, and they all know it,
because he would soon snap up half a dozen of them."

Then, as he lay lazily watching the fish in the drowsy sunshine which
had warmed the stones, the political troubles of the nation and the
great cloud of war, with its lightnings, destruction, and death, were
unseen.  He was surrounded by peace in the happiest days of boyhood, and
trouble seemed as if it could not exist.  But the trumpet-blast had rung
out the call to arms, and men were flocking to that standard and to
this, and the flash and thunder of guns had begun.

But not there down to that sleepy, retired part of Devon.  There was the
castle built for defence, and existing now as Sir Granby Royland's happy
country home, surrounded by its great estate with many tenants, while
its heir was stretched out there in the sunshine upon his chest, kicking
up his heels, and thinking at that moment that it would not be a bad
amusement to bring up a very long line with a plummet at the end, to
bait it, and then swing it to and fro till he could drop it right out
where the great pike lay, ten or a dozen feet from the drawbridge.

"I will some day," said the boy, half aloud; "but it's too much trouble
now."

He swung himself round and lay there, looking back over the top of the
spacious building, on whose roof he was, right across the now floral old
court-yard, and between the two angle towers, to the wide-spreading
acres of the farms and woodlands which formed his father's estate.

The jackdaws flew about, and began to settle at the corners as he lay so
still and languidly said to himself--

"Need to lie still; it wouldn't do to slip over backward.  I shouldn't
even go into the moat, for I should come down on those stones."

"Stupid to be in dangerous places," he said to himself directly after,
and, rolling over, he let himself down upon the broad seat-like place,
where he could lie and watch the prospect just as well.

"Rather stupid of me not to come up here oftener," he thought.  "It's a
capital place.  I will ask father to let me have all this old empty
tower to myself.  What's that?  A fight?"

For there was a sudden rush upward of jackdaws from where they had
blackened the farthest corner tower to the left, and, looking in that
direction as he lay, he saw the reason of the sudden whirr of wings and
outburst of sharp, harsh cries, for there upon the leads, and holding on
by the little turret which covered the door-way of the spiral staircase,
stood Master Pawson.

"Feels like I do, I suppose," thought Roy, as the secretary cast his
eyes round the old building, particularly watchful of the pleasaunce,
but keeping right back by the outer crenelles as if not wishing to be
seen.

At first Roy felt that the secretary saw him, and as his eyes roved on
and he made no sign, the boy's hand went to his pocket in search of his
handkerchief to wave to him.  He did not withdraw it, but lay lazily
watching while the secretary now turned his back and stood gazing right
away.

"Never saw him do anything of that kind before," thought Roy.  "What's
he looking after?  I shouldn't have thought he had ever been up there in
his life."

Roy lay quite still, with his eyes half closed, and all at once the
secretary drew out his white laced handkerchief, wiped his forehead
three times with a good deal of flourish, and returned it, after which
he slowly stepped into the turret opening and backed out of sight.

"Mind you don't slip," said Roy, tauntingly, but quite conscious of the
fact that his words could not be heard.  "Why, he has gone down like a
bear--backward.  I could run down those stairs as fast as I came up."

Perhaps it was the warm sunshine, perhaps it was from laziness, but,
whatever the cause, Roy Royland went off fast asleep, and remained so
for quite a couple of hours, when, starting up wonderingly, and not
quite conscious of the reason why he was there, he looked about him, and
finally over the great parapet, to see the secretary beyond the farther
end of the drawbridge, talking in a very benign way to the old porter,
who stood with bent head listening to his words.

"Why, it seems only a few moments ago that I saw him on the leads over
his chamber staring out across country, and he must have been down
since, and had a walk.--How time does go when you're snoozing," thought
Roy, "and how stupid it is to go to sleep in the daytime!  I won't do it
again."



CHAPTER FOUR.

THE USE OF A SWORD.

Several days passed away, but Lady Royland always put off sending in
search of news, and seemed to be more cheerful, so that Roy soon forgot
his anxiety in the many things he had to think about,--amusements,
studies, and the like.  But he had a few words with his father's old
follower on the subject of the absence of news, one day, when Ben was
busy, as usual, in the armoury.

"Not heard lately from the master, sir?  Pish, that's nothing; soldiers
have got their swords and pistols to think about, not their pens.  Best
soldiers I ever knew couldn't write at all.  Enough for them to do to
fight.  You'll hear from him some day, and when you do, you'll know as
he has been pretty busy putting the people straight,--more straight than
some on 'em'll like to be, I know.  Sarve 'em right; nobody's a right to
fight agen the king.--Looks right, don't it?"

He held up an old sword which he had rubbed and polished till it flashed
in the light.

"Splendid!" said Roy.  "Is it sharp?"

"Sharp enough to take your head off at one sweep."

"Nonsense!" said the boy, laughing.

"Oh, it's true enough, Master Roy.  Here, you stand all quite stiff and
straight, and I'll show you."

"No, thank you, Ben.  Suppose I try it on you."

"There you are, then," said the man; "but I must have one, too, for a
guard."

He handed the boy the sword, and took up another waiting to be cleaned
from galling rust, and, throwing himself on guard, he cried--

"Now then, cut!"

"No; too dangerous," said Roy.

"Not a bit, my lad, because you couldn't touch me."

"I could," said Roy, "where I liked."

"Try, then."

"Not with this sharp sword."

"Very well, then, take one of those; they've no more edge than a wooden
one.  It's time you did know how to use a sword, sir."

Ben exchanged his glittering blade, too, and once more stood on guard.

"I won't bother you now about how you ought to stand, sir," he said;
"that'll come when I begin to give you some lessons.  You go just as you
like, and hit where you can."

"No, no," said the boy.  "I don't want to hurt you, Ben."

"Won't hurt me, sir; more likely to hurt yourself.  But do you know
you're standing just as badly as you possibly could? and if I was your
enemy, I could take off your head, either of your ears, or your legs, as
easily as look at you."

Roy laughed, but he did not seem to believe the old soldier's assertion,
and, giving his blunt sword a whirl through the air, he cried--

"Now, then, Ben; which leg shall I cut off?"

"Which you like, sir."

Roy made a feint at the right leg, and, quickly changing the direction
of his weapon, struck with it softly at the old soldier's left.

"Tchah!" cried the old man, as blade met blade, his sword, in the most
effortless way, being edge outward exactly where Roy struck.  "Why, do
you know, sir, if I'd been in arnest with you, that you would have been
spitted like a cockchafer on a pin before you got your blade round to
cut?"

"Not I," said the boy, contemptuously.

"Very well, sir; you'll see.  Now, try again, and cut hard.  Don't let
your blade stop to get a bit of hay and a drop of water on the way, but
give it me quick."

"But I don't want to hurt you, Ben."

"Well, I don't, either; and, what's more, I don't mean to let you."

"But I shall, I'm sure, if I strike hard."

"You think so, my lad; but do you know what a good sword is?"

"A sword."

"Yes, and a lot more.  When a man can use it properly, it's a shield,
and a breastplate, helmet, brasses, and everything else.  Now, I'll just
show you.  Helmet, say.  Now, you cut straight down at my head, just as
if you were going to cut me in two pieces."

"Put on one of the old helmets, then."

"Tchah!  I don't want any helmets.  You cut."

"And suppose I hurt you?"

"S'pose you can't."

"Well, I don't want to," said Roy; "so look out."

"Right, sir; chop away."

Roy raised his sword slowly, and the old soldier dropped the point of
his and began to laugh.

"That won't do, my lad; lift your blade as if you were going to bring it
down again, not as if you meant to hang it up for an ornament on a peg."

"Oh, very well," said Roy.  "Now, then, I'm going to cut at you sharp."

"Oh, are you, sir?" said Ben.  "Now, if ever you're a soldier, and meet
a man who means to kill you, shall you tell him you're going to cut at
him sharply? because, if you do, you'll have his blade through you
before you've half said it."

"You are precious fond of your banter," cried Roy, who was a little put
out now.  "Serve you right if I do hurt you.  But this blade won't cut,
will it?"

"Cut through the air if you move it sharp; that's about all, my lad."

"Then take that," cried the boy.

_Clang_--_cling_--_clatter_!

Roy stared, for his sword had come in contact with that of the old
soldier, and then was twisted out of his grasp and went rattling along
the floor, Ben going after it to fetch it back.

"Try again, sir."

Roy was on his mettle now, and, grasping the hilt more firmly, he
essayed to deliver a few blows at his opponent's legs, sides, and arms.
But Ben's sword was always there first, and held at such an angle that
his weapon glided off violently, as if from his own strength in
delivering the blow; and, try hard as he could, he could not get near
enough to make one touch.

"Arms and head, my lad; sharp."

Better satisfied now that he would not hurt his adversary, Roy struck
down at the near shoulder, but his sword glanced away.  Then at the
head, the legs, everywhere that seemed to offer for a blow, but always
for his blade to glance off with a harsh grating sound.

"There, it's of no use; you can't get near me, my lad," said Ben, at
last.

"Oh, yes, I can.  I was afraid of hurting you.  I shall hit hard as
hard," cried Roy, who felt nettled.  "But I don't want to hurt you.
Let's have sticks."

"I'll get sticks directly, sir.  You hit me first with the sword."

"Oh, very well; if you will have it, you shall," cried Roy, and, without
giving any warning now, he delivered a horizontal blow at the old
soldier's side; but it was turned off just as the dozen or so which
followed were thrown aside, and then, with a quiet laugh, the old fellow
said--

"Now, every time you hit at me, I could have run you through."

"No, you couldn't," said Roy, sharply.

"Well, we'll see, sir.  Put that down, and use this; or, no, keep your
sword; the hilt will protect your hand in case I come down upon it."

He took up a stout ash stick and threw himself on guard again, waiting
for Roy's blow, which he turned off, but before the next could descend,
the boy's aim was disordered by a sharp dig in the chest from the end of
the ash stick; and so it was as he went on: before he could strike he
always received a prod in the chest, ribs, arms, or shoulders.

"Oh, I say, Ben," he cried at last; "I didn't know you could use a stick
like that."

"Suppose not, my lad; but I knew you couldn't use a sword like that.
Now, I tell you what: you'd better come to me for an hour every morning
before breakfast, and I'll begin to make such a man of you as your
father would like to see when he comes back."

"Well, I will come, Ben," said the lad; "but my arm does not ache so
much now, and I don't feel quite beaten.  Let's have another try."

"Oh, I'll try all day with you, if you like, sir," said the old soldier;
"only, suppose now you stand on guard and let me attack."

"With swords?" said Roy, blankly.

"No, no," said Ben, laughing; "I don't want to hurt you.  We'll keep to
sticks.  Better still: I want you to get used to handling a sword, so
I'll have the stick and you shall defend yourself with a blade."

"But that wouldn't be fair to you," cried Roy.  "I might hurt you, while
you couldn't hurt me."

"Couldn't I?" said the old fellow, drily.  "I'm afraid I could, and more
than you could me.  Now, then, take that blade."

He took one from the wall, a handsome-looking sword, upon which the
armourer who made it had bestowed a good deal of ingenious labour,
carving the sides, and ornamenting the hilt with a couple of beautifully
fluted representations in steel of the scallop shell, so placed that
they formed as complete a protection to the hand of the user as that
provided in the basket-hilted Scottish claymore.

"Find that too heavy for you, sir?"

"It is heavy," said Roy; "but one seems to be able to handle it easily."

"Yes, sir; you'll find that will move lightly.  You see it's so well
balanced by the hilt being made heavy.  The blade comes up lightly, and,
with a fair chance, I believe I could cut a man in two with it after a
few touches on a grindstone."

"Ugh!" ejaculated Roy; "horrid!"

"Oh, I don't know, sir.  Much more horrid if he cut you in two.  It's of
no use to be thin-skinned over fighting in earnest.  Man's got to defend
himself.  Now, then, let's give you a word or two of advice to begin
with.  A good swordsman makes his blade move so sharply that you can
hardly see it go through the air.  You must make it fly about like
lightning.  Now then, ready?"

"Yes; but you won't mind if I hurt you?"

"Don't you be afraid of doing that, sir.  If you hurt me, it'll serve me
right for being such a bungler.  _En garde_!"

Roy threw himself into position, and the old soldier attacked him very
slowly, cutting at his neck on either side, then down straight at his
head, next at his arms and legs; and in every case, though in a bungling
way, Roy interposed his blade after the fashion shown by his adversary.

Then the old fellow drew back and rested the point of his ash stick upon
his toe, while Roy panted a little, and smiled with satisfaction.

"Come," he said; "I wasn't so bad there."

"Oh, no, you weren't so bad there, because you showed that you'd got
some idea of what a sword's for; but when you're ready we'll begin
again.  May as well have something to think about till to-morrow
morning.  First man you fight with won't stop to ask whether you're
ready, you know."

"I suppose not; but wait a minute."

"Hour, if you like, sir; but your arms'll soon get hard.  Seems a pity,
though, that they're not harder now.  I often asked the master to let me
teach you how to use a sword."

"Yes, I know; but my mother always objected.  She doesn't like swords.
I do."

"Of course you do, sir.  It's a lad's nature to like one.  Ready?"

"Yes," cried Roy, standing on his guard; "but look out this time, Ben,
because I mean you to have something."

"That's right, sir; but mind this: I'm not going to let my stick travel
like a snail after a cabbage-leaf this time.  I'm going to cut as I
should with a sword, only I'm going to hit as if you were made of glass,
so as not to break you.  Now!"

The old soldier's eyes flashed as he threw one foot forward, Roy doing
the same; but it was his newly polished sword that flashed as he
prepared to guard the cuts, taking care, or meaning to take care, to
hold his blade at such an angle that the stick would glance off.  The
encounter ended in a few seconds.  _Whizz, whirr, pat, pat, pat_, and
the elastic ash sapling came down smartly upon the boy's arms, legs,
sides, shoulders, and finished off with a rap on the head, with the
result that Roy angrily threw the sword jangling upon the floor, and
stood rubbing his arms and sides viciously.

"You said you were going to hit at me as if I were made of glass," cried
the boy.

"So I did.  Don't mean to say those taps hurt you?"

"Hurt?  They sting horribly."

"Why, those cuts would hardly have killed flies, sir.  But why didn't
you guard?"

"Guard?  I did guard," cried Roy, angrily, as he rubbed away; "but you
were so quick."

"Oh, I can cut quicker than that, sir.  You see I got in before you did
every time.  I'd cut, and was on my way to give another before you were
ready for the first.  Come, they don't tingle now, do they?"

"Tingle?  Yes.  Here, I want a stick.  I'm not going to leave off
without showing you how it does hurt."

"Better leave off now, sir," said the man, grinning.

"But I don't want to," cried Roy; and picking up the sword which he had
handled with a feeling of pride, he took the other stick, and, crying
"Ready!" attacked in his turn, striking hard and as swiftly as he could,
but _crack, crack, crack_, wherever he struck, there was the defensive
sapling; and at last, with his arm and shoulder aching, the boy lowered
his point and stood panting, with his brow moist with beads of
perspiration.

"Well done!" cried Ben.  "Now that's something like a first lesson.
Why, those last were twice as good as any you gave before."

"Yes," said Roy, proudly; "I thought I could make you feel.  Some of
those went home."

"Not one of them, my lad," said Ben, smiling; "you didn't touch me
once."

"Not once?"

"No, sir; not once."

"Is that the truth, Ben?"

"Every word of it, sir.  But never you mind that; you did fine; and if
you'll come to me every morning, I'll make you so that in three months I
shall have to look out for myself."

"I don't seem to have done any good at all," said Roy, pettishly.

"Not done no good, sir?  Why, you've done wonders; you've taken all the
conceit out of yourself, and learned in one lesson that you don't know
anything whatever about a sword, except that it has a blade and a hilt
and a scabbard.  And all the time you'd been thinking that all you had
to do was to chop and stab with it as easy as could be, and that there
was nothing more to learn.  Now didn't you?"

"Something like it," said Roy, who was now cooling down; "but, of
course, I knew that you had to parry."

"But you didn't know how to, my lad; and look here, you haven't tried to
thrust yet.  Here, give me a sharp one now."

"No, I can't do any more," said Roy, sulkily.  "I don't know how."

"That's a true word, sir; but you're going to try?"

"No, I'm not," said Roy, whom a sharp sting in one leg from the worst
cut made a little vicious again.

"Come, come, come," said the old soldier, reproachfully.  "That aren't
like my master's son talking; that's like a foolish boy without anything
in his head."

"Look here, Ben; don't you be insolent."

"Not I, Master Roy.  I wouldn't be to you.  Only I speak out because I'm
proud of you, my lad, and I want to see you grow up into a man like your
father.  I tried hard not to hurt you, sir, but I suppose I did.  But I
can't say I'm sorry."

"Then you ought to be, for you cut at me like a brute."

The old soldier shook his head sadly.

"You don't mean that, Master Roy," he said; "and it's only because
you're tingling a bit; that's all."

The man's words disarmed Roy, and the angry frown passed away, as he
said, frankly--

"No, I don't mean it now, Ben.  The places don't tingle so; but I say,
there'll be black marks wherever you cut at me."

"Never mind, sir; they'll soon come white again, and you'll know next
time that you've got to have your weapon ready to save yourself.  Well,
I dunno.  I meant it right, but you've had enough of it.  Some day Sir
Granby'll let you go to a big fencing-master as never faced a bit o'
steel drawn in anger in his life, and he'll put you on leather pads and
things, and tap you soft like, and show you how to bow, s'loot, and cut
capers like a Frenchman, and when he's done with you I could cut you up
into mincemeat without you being able to give me a scratch."

"Get out!" cried Roy.  "You don't think anything of the sort.  What time
shall I come to-morrow morning--six?"

"No, sir, no.  Bed's very nice at six o'clock in the morning.  You stop
there, and then you won't be hurt."

"Five, then?" said Roy, sharply.

"Nay, sir; you wait for the big fencing-master."

"Five o'clock, I said," cried Roy.

The old soldier took the sword Roy had held, and fetching a piece of
leather from a drawer began to polish off the finger-marks left upon the
steel.

"I said five o'clock, Ben," cried the boy, very decisively.

"Nay, Master Roy, you give it up, sir.  I'm too rough an old chap for
you."

"Sorry I was so disagreeable, Ben," said the boy, offering his hand.

"Mean it, sir?"

"Why, of course, Ben."

The hand was eagerly seized, and, it being understood that the sword
practice was to begin punctually at six next morning, they separated.



CHAPTER FIVE.

ROY TAKES HIS NEXT LESSON.

The clock in the little turret which stood out over the gate-way facing
Lady Royland's garden had not done striking six when Roy entered the
armoury next morning, to find Ben hard at work fitting the interior of a
light helmet with a small leather cap which was apparently well stuffed
with wool.

"Morning, Ben," said the boy.  "What's that for?"

"You, sir."

"To wear?"

"Of course.  Just as well to take care of your face and head when you're
handling swords.  You can use it with the visor up or down, 'cording to
what we're doing.  You see, I want to learn you how to use a sword like
a soldier, and not like a gentleman who never expects to see trouble."

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir, quite; and first thing 's morning we'll begin where we left
off, and you shall try to learn that you don't know how to thrust.
Nothing like finding out how bad you are.  Then you can begin to see
better what you have to learn."

"Very well," said Roy, eagerly.  "You'll have to look out now then, Ben,
for I mean to learn, and pretty quickly."

"Oh, yes; you'll learn quickly enough," said Ben, placing the helmet
upon the table and taking the pair of sticks up from where he had placed
them.  "But say, Master Roy, I have been working here.  Don't you think
the place looks better?"

"I think my father would be proud of the armoury if he could see the
weapons," said Roy, as he looked round.  "Everything is splendid."

The old soldier smiled as he walked from suit to suit of armour, some of
which were obsolete, and could only be looked upon as curiosities of the
day; but, in addition, there were modern pieces of defensive armour,
beautifully made, with carefully cleaned and inlaid headpieces of the
newest kind, and of those the old soldier seemed to be especially proud.
Then he led the way on to the stands of offensive weapons, which
numbered quaint, massive swords of great age, battle-axes, and maces,
and so on to modern weapons of the finest steel, with, guns, petronels,
and horse-pistols of clumsy construction, but considered perfect then.

"Yes, sir, I'm proud of our weepuns," said Ben; "but I aren't a bit
proud of the old castle, which seems to be going right away to ruin."

"That it isn't," cried Roy, indignantly.  "It has been repaired and
repaired, whenever it wanted doing up, again and again."

"Ah! you're thinking about roofs and tiles and plaster, my lad.  I was
thinking about the defences.  Such a place as this used to be.  Look at
the gun-carriages,--haven't been painted for years, nor the guns
cleaned."

"Well, mix up some paint and brush it on," said Roy, "and clean up the
guns.  They can't be rusty, because they're brass."

"Well, not brass exactly, sir," said the man, thoughtfully.  "It's more
of a mixtur' like; but to a man like me, sir, it's heart-breaking."

"What! to see them turn green and like bronze?"

"Oh, I don't mind that so much, sir; it's seeing of 'em come down so
much, like.  Why, there's them there big guns as stands in the
court-yard behind the breastwork."

"Garden, Ben."

"Well, garden, sir.  Why, there's actooally ivy and other 'nockshus
weeds growing all over 'em."

"Well, it looks peaceful and nice."

"Bah!  A gun can't look peaceful and nice.  But that aren't the worst of
it, sir.  I was along by 'em a bit ago, and, if you'll believe me, when
I put my hand in one, if there warn't a sharp, hissing noise!"

"A snake?  Got in there?"

"Snake, sir?  No!  I wouldn't ha' minded a snake; but there's no snakes
here."

"There was one, Ben, for I brought it up out of the woods, and kept it
in a box for months, till it got away.  Then that's where it is."

"Nay.  It were no snake, sir.  It were one of them little blue and
yaller tomtit chaps as lays such lots o' eggs.  I fetches a stick, and I
was going to shove it in and twist it in the hay and stuff o' the nest
and draw it out."

"But you didn't?"

"No, sir, I didn't; for I says to myself, if Sir Granby and her ladyship
like the place to go to ruin, they may let it; and if the two little
birds--there was a cock and hen--didn't bring up twelve of the rummiest
little, tiny young uns I ever did see.  There they was, all a-sitting in
a row along the gun, and it seemed to me so comic for 'em to be there
that I bust out a-laughing quite loud."

"And they all flew away?"

"Nay, sir, they didn't; they stopped there a-twittering.  But if that
gun had been loaded, and I'd touched it off with a fire-stick, it would
have warmed their toes, eh?  But would you clean up the old guns?"

"I don't see why you shouldn't, Ben.  They're valuable."

"Vallerble?  I should think they are, sir.  And, do you know, I will;
for who knows what might happen?  They tell me down in the village that
there's trouble uppards, and people gets talking agen the king.  Ah!
I'd talk 'em if I had my way, and make some of 'em squirm.--Yes, I will
tidy things up a bit.  Startle some on 'em if we was to fire off a gun
or two over the village."

"They'd burst, Ben.  Haven't been fired for a hundred years, I should
say.  Those brass guns were made in Queen Elizabeth's time."

"Oh, they wouldn't burst, sir; I shouldn't be afraid of that.--But this
is not learning to thrust, is it?"

"No.  Come on," cried Roy, and he took one of the stout ash rods.
"Here, hadn't I better put on this helmet?"

"Not yet, sir.  You can practise thrusting without that.  Now then, here
I am, sir.  All ready for you on my guard.  Now, thrust."

Ben dropped into an easy position, with his legs a little bent, one foot
advanced, his left hand behind him, and his stick held diagonally across
his breast.

Roy imitated him, dropping into the same position.

"Where shall I stab you?" he cried.

"Just wherever you like, sir,--if you can."

The boy made a quick dart forward with his stick, and it passed by his
teacher, who parried with the slightest movement of his wrist.

"I said thrust, sir."

"Well, I did thrust."

"That wasn't a thrust, sir; that was only a poke.  It wouldn't have gone
through a man's coat, let alone his skin.  Now, again!"

The boy made another push forward with his stick, which was also
parried.

"Nay, that won't do, my lad; so let's get to something better.  Now, I'm
going to thrust at you right in the chest.  Enemies don't tell you where
they're going to hit you, but I'm going to tell you.  Now, look out!"

Roy prepared to guard the thrust, but the point of the old man's stick
struck him sharply in the chest, and he winced a little, but smiled.

"Now, sir, you do that, but harder."

Roy obeyed, but failed dismally.

"Of course," said Ben.  "Now that's because you didn't try the right
way, sir.  Don't poke at a man, but throw your arm right back till you
get your hand level with your shoulder, and sword and arm just in a
line.  Then thrust right out, and let your body follow your arm,--then
you get some strength into it.  Now, once more."

Roy followed his teacher's instructions.

"Better--ever so much, sir.  Now again--good; again--good.  You'll soon
do it.  Now, can't you see what a lot of weight you get into a thrust
like that?  One of your pokes would have done nothing.  One like that
last would have sent your blade through a man.  Now again."

Roy was now fully upon his mettle, and he tried hard to acquire some
portion of the old soldier's skill, till his arm ached, and Ben cried
"Halt!" and began to chat about the old-fashioned armour.

"Lots of it was too clumsy, sir.  Strong men were regularly loaded down;
and I've thought for a long time that all a man wants is a steel cap and
steel gloves.  All the rest he ought to be able to do with his sword."

"But you can't ward off bullets with a sword, Ben," said Roy.

"No, sir; nor you can't ward 'em off with armour.  They find out the
jyntes, if they don't go through."

"Would that suit of half-armour be much too big for me, Ben?" said Roy,
pausing before a bronzed ornamental set of defensive weapons, which had
evidently been the work of some Italian artist.

"No, sir, I shouldn't think it would.  You see that was made for a small
man, and you're a big lad.  If you were to put that on, and used a bit
o' stuffing here and there, you wouldn't be so much amiss.  It's in fine
condition, too, with its leather lining, and that's all as lissome and
good as when it was first made."

"I should like to try that on some day, Ben," said the boy, eagerly
examining the handsome suit.

"Well, I don't see why not, sir.  You'd look fine in that.  Wants three
or four white ostrich feathers in the little gilt holder of the helmet.
White uns would look well with that dark armour.  Looks just like
copper, don't it?"

"How long would it take to put it on?" said Roy.

"Hour, sir; and you'd want some high buff boots to wear with it."

"An hour?" said Roy.  "There wouldn't be time before breakfast."

"No, sir.  But I tell you what--I've only cleaned and polished and iled
the straps.  If you feels as if you'd like to put it on, I'll go over it
well, and see to the buckles and studs: shall I?"

"Yes, do, Ben."

"That I will, sir.  And I say, if, when you're ready, I was to saddle
one of the horses proper, and you was to mount and her ladyship see you,
she'd be sorry as ever she wanted you to be a statesman."

Roy shook his head dubiously.

"Oh, but she would, sir.  Man looks grand in his armour and feathers."

"But I'm only a boy," said Roy, sadly.

"Who's to know that when you're in armour and your visor down, sir?  A
suit of armour like that, and you on a grand horse, would make a man of
you.  It's fine, and no mistake."

"But you were sneering at armour a little while ago, Ben," said Roy.

"For fighting in, sir, but not for show.  You see, there's something
about armour and feathers and flags that gets hold of people, and a
soldier's a man who likes to look well.  I'm an old un now, but I
wouldn't say no to a good new uniform, with a bit o' colour in it; but
if you want me to fight, I don't want to be all plates and things like a
lobster, and not able to move.  I want to be free to use my arms.  Right
enough for show, sir, and make a regiment look handsome; but fighting's
like gardening,--want to take your coat off when you go to work."

"But you will get that armour ready, Ben?"

"Course I will, sir.  On'y too glad to see you take a liking to a bit o'
armour and a sword.  Now, then, what do you say to beginning again?"

"I'm ready," said Roy, but with a longing look at the armour.

"Then you shall just put that helmet on, and have the visor down.  You
won't be able to see so well, but it will save your face from an
accidental cut."

He placed the helmet on the boy's head, adjusted the cheek straps, and
drew back.

"Find it heavy, sir?"

"Rather!  Feels as if it would topple off as soon as I begin to move."

"But it won't, sir.  The leather cap inside will stop that.  Now, then,
if you please, we'll begin.  I'm going to cut at you slowly and softly,
and you've got to guard yourself, and then turn off.  I shall be very
slow, but after a bit I shall cut like lightning, and before I've done I
shan't be no more able to hit you than you're able now to hit me."

Roy said nothing, and the man began cutting at him to right and to left,
upward from the same direction and downward, as if bent upon cleaving
his shoulders; and for every cut Ben showed him how to make the proper
guard, holding his weapon so that the stroke should glance off, and
laying especial weight upon the necessity for catching the blow aimed
upon the _forte_ of the blade toward the hilt, and not upon the _faible_
near the point.

Then came the turn of the head, and the horizontal and down right cuts
were, after further instruction, received so that they, too, glanced
off.  Roy gaining more and more confidence at every stroke.  But that
helmet was an utter nuisance, and half buried the wearer.

"I'm beginning to think you're right, Ben, about the armour," said the
lad, at last.

"Yes, 'tis a bit awkward, sir; but you'll get used to it.  If you can
defend yourself well with that on, why, of course, you can without.
Now, then, suppose, for a change, you have a cut at me."

"Why, what tomfoolery is this?" said a highly-pitched voice; and Roy
tried to snatch off his helmet as he caught sight of the secretary
standing in the door-way looking on.

But the helmet would not come off easily, and, after a tug or two, Roy
was fain to turn to the old soldier.

"Here," he said, hastily, "unfasten this, Ben, quick!"

"Yes, sir; but I don't see as you've any call to be in such a hurry.
You've a right to learn to use a sword if you like.  Only the strap
fastened over this stud, and there you are."

Red-faced and annoyed, Roy faced the secretary, who had walked slowly
into the armoury, to stand looking about him with a sneer of contempt
upon his lip.

"Only practising a little sword-play, sir," said the boy, as soon as his
head was relieved.

"Sword-play!  Is there no other kind of play a boy like you can take to?
What do you want with sword-play?"

"My father's a soldier," said Roy.

"Yes; but you are not going to be a fighting man, sir; and, behindhand
as you are with your studies, I think you might try a little more to do
your instructor credit, and not waste time with one of the servants in
such a barbaric pursuit as this.  Lady Royland is waiting breakfast.
You had better come at once."

Feeling humbled and abashed before the old soldier, Roy followed the
secretary without a word, and they entered the breakfast-room together,
Lady Royland looking up pale and disturbed, and, upon seeing her son's
face, exclaiming--

"Why, Roy, how hot and tired you look!  Have you been running?"

The secretary laughed contemptuously.

"No, mother; practising fencing with Ben."

"Oh, Roy!" cried his mother, reproachfully; "what can you want with
fencing?  My dear boy, pray think more of your books."

Master Pawson gave the lad a peculiar look, and Roy felt as if he should
like to kick out under the table so viciously that the sneering smile
might give place to a contraction expressing pain.

But Roy did not speak, and the breakfast went on.



CHAPTER SIX.

BEN MARTLET FEELS RUSTY.

"Come to me in half an hour, Roy," said Master Pawson, as they rose from
the table, the boy hurrying away to the armoury to find Ben busy as
ever, and engaged now in seeing to the straps and fittings of the
Italian suit of bronzed steel.

"Thought I'd do it, sir," he said, "in case you ever asked for it; but I
s'pose it's all over with your learning to be a man now."

"Indeed it is not," said Roy, sharply.  "I'm sure my father would not
object to my learning fencing."

"Sword-play, sir."

"Very well--sword-play," said Roy, pettishly; "so long as I do not
neglect any studies I have to go through with Master Pawson."

"And I s'pose you've been a-neglecting of 'em, sir, eh?" said the old
man, drily.

"That I've not.  Perhaps I have not got on so well as I ought, but
that's because I'm stupid, I suppose."

"Nay, nay, nay!  That won't do, Master Roy.  There's lots o' things I
can do as you can't; but that's because you've never learnt."

"Master Pawson's cross because I don't do what he wants."

"Why, what does he want you to do, sir?"

"Learn to play the big fiddle."

"What!" cried the man, indignantly.  "Then don't you do it, my lad."

"I don't mean to," said Roy; "and I don't want to hurt my mother's
feelings; and so I won't make a lot of show over learning sword-play
with you, but I shall go on with it, Ben, and you shall take the swords
or sticks down in the hollow in the wood, and I'll meet you there every
morning at six."

"Mean it, sir?"

"Yes, of course; and now I must be off.  I was to be with Master Pawson
in half an hour."

"Off you go, then, my lad.  Always keep to your time."

Roy ran off, and was going straight to Master Pawson's room in the
corner tower, but on the way he met Lady Royland, who took his arm and
walked with him out into the square garden.

"Why, mother, you've been crying," said the boy, tenderly.

"Can you see that, my dear?"

"Yes; what is the matter?  I know, though.  You're fretting about not
hearing from father."

"Well, is it not enough to make me fret, my boy?" she said,
reproachfully.

"Of course!  And I'm so thoughtless."

"Yes, Roy," said Lady Royland, with a sad smile; "I am afraid you are."

"I try not to be, mother; I do indeed," cried Roy; "but tell me--is
there anything fresh?  Yes; you've had some bad news!  Then you've heard
from father."

"No, my boy, no; the bad news comes through Master Pawson.  He has heard
again from his friends in London."

"Look here, mother," cried the boy, hotly, "I want to know why he should
get letters easily, and we get none."

Lady Royland sighed.

"Father must be too busy to write."

"I am afraid so, my dear."

"But what is the bad news he has told you this morning?"

They were close up to the foot of the corner tower as Roy asked this
question; and, as Lady Royland replied, a few notes of some air being
played upon the violoncello high up came floating down to their ears.

"He tells me that there is no doubt about a terrible revolution having
broken out, my boy; that the Parliament is raising an army to fight
against the king, and that his friends feel sure that his majesty's
cause is lost."

"Then he doesn't know anything about it, mother," cried the boy,
indignantly.  "The king has too many brave officers like father who will
fight for him, and take care that his cause is not lost.  Oh, I say,
hark to that!"

"That" was another strain floating down to them.

"Yes," said Lady Royland, sadly; "it is Master Pawson playing.  He is
waiting for you, Roy."

"Yes, playing," said the boy, hotly.  "It makes me think of what I read
with him one day about that Roman emperor--what was his name?--playing
while Rome was burning.  But don't you fret, mother; London won't be
burnt while father's there."

"You do not realise what it may mean, my boy."

"Oh, yes, I think I do, mother; but you don't think fairly.  You are too
anxious.  But there!  I must go up to him now."

"Yes, go, my boy; and you will not cause me any more anxiety than you
can help?"

"Why, of course I won't, mother.  But if it is going to be a war, don't
you think I ought to learn all I can about being a soldier?"

"Roy!  No, no!" cried Lady Royland, wildly.  "Do I not suffer enough on
your father's account?"

"There, I won't say any more, mother dear," said Roy, clinging to her
arm; "and now I'll confess something."

"You have something to confess?" said Lady Royland, excitedly, as she
stopped where they were, just beneath the corner tower, and quite
unconscious of the fact that a head was cautiously thrust out of one of
the upper windows and then drawn back, so that only the tip of an ear
and a few curls were left visible.  "Then, tell me quickly, Roy; you
have been keeping back some news."

"No, no, mother, not a bit; just as if I would when I know how anxious
you are!  It was only this.  Old Ben is always grumbling about the place
going to ruin, as he calls it, and I told him, to please him, that he
might clean up some of the big guns."

"But you should not have done this, my dear."

"No; I'll tell him not to, mother.  And I'd made an arrangement with him
to meet him every morning out in the primrose dell to practise
sword-cutting.  I was going to-morrow morning, but I won't go now."

Lady Royland pressed her lips to the boy's forehead, and smiled in his
face.

"Thank you, my dear," she said, softly.  "Recollect you are everything
to me now!  And I want your help and comfort now I am so terribly alone.
Master Pawson is profuse in his offers of assistance to relieve me of
the management here, but I want that assistance to come from my son."

"Of course!" said Roy, haughtily.  "He's only the secretary, and if any
one is to take father's place, it ought to be me."

"Yes; and you shall, Roy, my dear.  You are very young, but now this
trouble has come upon us, you must try to be a man and my counsellor so
that when your father returns--"

She ceased speaking, and Roy pressed her hands encouragingly as he saw
her lips trembling and that she had turned ghastly white.

"When your father returns," she said, now firmly, "we must let him see
that we have managed everything well."

"Then why not, as it's war time, let Ben do what he wanted, and we'll
put the place in a regular state of defence?"

"No, no, no, my dear," said Lady Royland, with a shudder.  "Why should
you give our peaceful happy home even the faintest semblance of war,
when it can by no possibility come into this calm, quiet, retired nook.
No, my boy, not that, please."

"Very well, mother.  Then I'll go riding round to see the tenants, and
look after the things at home just as you wish me to.  Will that do?"

Lady Royland smiled, and then pressed her son's arm.

"Go up now, then, to Master Pawson's room," she said; "and recollect
that one of the things I wish you to do is to be more studious than you
would be if your father were at home."

Roy nodded and hurried up into the corridor, thinking to himself that
Master Pawson would not like his being so much in his mother's
confidence.

"Then he'll have to dislike it.  He has been a bit too forward lately,
speaking to the servants as if he were master here.  I heard him quite
bully poor old Jenk one day.  But, of course, I don't want to quarrel
with him."

Roy ascended the staircase and entered the room, to find the secretary
bending over a big volume in the Greek character; and, as he looked up
smiling, the boy felt that his tutor was about the least
quarrelsome-looking personage he had ever seen.

"Rather a long half-hour, Roy, is it not?" he said.

"Yes, sir; I'm very sorry.  My mother met me as I was coming across the
garden, and talked to me, and I could not leave her in such trouble."

"Trouble?  Trouble?" said the secretary, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course, sir, about the bad news you told her this morning."

"Indeed!  And did Lady Royland confide in you?"

"Why, of course!" said Roy, quickly.

"Oh, yes,--of course!  Her ladyship would do what is for the best.
Well, let us to our reading.  We have lost half an hour, and I am going
to make it a little shorter this morning, for I thought of going across
as far as the vicarage."

"To see Master Meldew, sir?"

"Yes; of course.  He has not been here lately.  Now, then, where we left
off,--it was about the Punic War, was it not?"

"Yes, sir; but don't let's have anything about war this morning."

"Very well," said the secretary; "let it be something about peace."

It was something about peace, but what Roy did not know half an hour
later, for his head was in a whirl, and his reading became quite
mechanical.  For there was the trouble his mother was in, her wishes as
to his conduct, and his secret interview with Ben, to keep on buzzing in
his brain, so that it was with a sigh of relief that he heard the
secretary's command to close his book, and he gazed at him wonderingly,
asking himself whether the words were sarcastic, for Master Pawson
said--

"I compliment you, Roy; you have done remarkably well, and been very
attentive this morning.  By the way, if her ladyship makes any remark
about my absence, you can say that you expect Master Meldew has asked me
to stay and partake of dinner with him."

"Yes, sir."

"Not unless she asks," continued the secretary.  "In all probability she
will not notice my absence."

Roy descended with his books; then felt that he should like to be alone
and think, and to this end he made his way to the gloomy old guard-room
on the right of the great gate-way, ran up the winding stair, and soon
reached the roof, where he lay down on the breastwork over the
machicolations, and had not been there long before he heard steps, and,
looking over, saw Master Pawson cross the drawbridge and go out of the
farther gate-way, watching him unseen till he turned off by the pathway
leading through the village and entering the main road.

Then it occurred to Roy that, as he had an unpleasant communication to
make, he could not do better than get it over at once.  So he descended,
and began to search for the old soldier; but it was some time before he
could find him out.

Yet it seemed to be quite soon enough, for the old fellow looked very
grim and sour as he listened to the communication.

"Very well, Master Roy," he said; "the mistress is master now, and it's
your dooty to obey her; but it do seem like playing at fast and loose
with a man.  There, I've got no more to say,--only that I was beginning
to feel a bit bright and chirpy; but now I'm all going back'ard again,
and feel as rusty as everything else about the place."

"I'm very sorry, Ben, for I really did want to learn," said Roy,
apologetically.

"Yes, sir, I s'pose you did; and this here's a world o' trouble, and the
longer you lives in it the more you finds out as you can't do what you
like, so you grins and bears it; but the grinning's about the hardest
part o' the job.  You're 'bliged to bear it, but you aren't 'bliged to
grin; and, when the grins do come, you never has a looking-glass afore
you, but you allus feels as if you never looked so ugly afore in your
life."

"But you'll have to help me in other things, Ben."

"Shall I, sir?  Don't seem to me as there's anything else as I can help
you over."

"Oh, but there is,--while the war keeps my father away."

"War, sir?  Nonsense!  You don't call a bit of a riot got up by some
ragged Jacks war."

"No; but this is getting to be a very serious affair, according to what
Master Pawson told my mother this morning."

"Master Pawson, sir!  Why, what does he know about it?"

"A good deal, it seems.  Some friends of his in London send him news,
and they said it is going to be a terrible civil war."

"And me not up there with Sir Granby!" groaned the man.  "Oh, dear! oh,
dear! it's a wicked, rusty old world!"

"But I've promised to help my mother all I can, Ben, and you must
promise to help me."

"Of course, sir; that you know.  But say, sir, war breaking out, and we
all rusted up like this!  We ought to be ready for anything."

"So I thought, Ben; but my mother says there's not likely to be trouble
in this out-of-the-way place."

"Then bless my dear lady's innocence! says Ben Martlet, and that's me,
sir.  Why, you never knows where a spark may drop and the fire begin to
run."

"No, Ben."

"And if this is sure to be such a peaceful spot, why did the old
Roylands build the castle and make a moat and drawbridge, and all the
rest of it?  They didn't mean the moat for nothing else, sir, but carp,
tench, and eels."

"And pike, Ben."

"No, sir.  They thought of very different kind of pikes, sir, I can tell
you,--same as they I've got on the walls yonder in sheaves.  But there;
her ladyship gives the word to you, and you gives it to me, and I
shouldn't be worth calling a soldier if I didn't do as I was ordered,
and directly, too, and--Hark!"

The old soldier held up his hand.

"Horses!" cried Roy, excitedly.  "Why, who's coming here?"



CHAPTER SEVEN.

NEWS FROM THE WAR.

Roy and the old soldier hurried to a slit which gave on the road, and
the latter began to breathe hard with excitement as his eyes rested upon
three dusty-looking horsemen, well-mounted, and from whose round-topped,
spiked steel caps the sun flashed from time to time.

"Why, they're dragoons!" cried the old fellow, excitedly.  "Enemies,
perhaps, and we're without a drawbridge as'll pull up.  Here, quick,
take a sword, Master Roy.  Here's mine.  Let's make a show.  They won't
know but what there's dozens of us."

Roy followed the old soldier's commands, and, buckling on the sword,
hurried with him down to the outer gate, just as the venerable old
retainer slammed it to with a heavy, jarring sound, and challenged the
horsemen, whom he could hardly see, to halt.

"Well done, old man!" muttered Ben.  "The right stuff, Master Roy,
though he is ninety-four."

"What is it?" cried Roy, as he reached the gate, where the men were
dismounting and patting their weary troop-horses.

"Despatches for Lady Royland," said one, who seemed to be the leader.
"Are you Master Roy, Sir Granby's son?"

"Yes.  Have you come from my father?"

"Yes, sir, and made all the haste we could; but we've left two brave
lads on the road."

"What! their horses broke down?"

"No, sir," said the man, significantly; "but they did."

He took off his cap as he spoke, and displayed a bandage round his
forehead.

"My mate there's got his shoulder ploughed, too, by a bullet."

"Open the gates, Jenks," cried Roy.

"One moment, sir," whispered Ben.  "Get the despatches and see if
they're in your father's writing."

"Right," whispered back Roy.  "Here!--your despatches."

"No, sir," said the man, firmly.  "That's what they asked who barred the
way.  Sir Granby's orders were to place 'em in his lady's hands."

"Quite right," said Roy.  "But show them to me and let me see my
father's hand and seal."

"Yes, that's right enough, sir," said the man.  "We might be enemies;"
and he unstrapped a wallet slung from his right shoulder, took out a
great letter tied with silk and sealed, and held it out, first on one
side, then upon the other, for the boy to see.

"Yes," cried Roy, eagerly, "that's my father's writing, and it is his
seal.  Open the gate, Jenkin, and let them in.  Why, my lads, you look
worn-out."

"Not quite, sir; but we've had a rough time of it.  The country's full
of crop-ears, and we've had our work cut out to get here safe."

"Full of what?" said Roy, staring, as the troopers led in their horses,
and he walked beside the man who bore the despatches.

"Crop-ears, sir,--Parliamentary men."

"Is it so bad as that?"

"Bad?  Yes, sir."

"But my father--how is he?"

"Well and hearty when he sent us off, sir."

"Come quickly then," cried Roy, hurrying the men along to the great
drawbridge, over which the horses' hoofs began to rattle loudly.  But
they had not gone half-way across the moat before there was the rustle
of a dress in front, and, looking ghastly pale and her eyes wild with
excitement, Lady Royland came hurrying to meet them.

Roy sprang to her, crying--

"Letters from father, and he is quite well!"

He caught his mother in his arms, for her eyes closed and she reeled and
would have fallen; but the next minute she had recovered her composure,
and held out her hand for the packet the trooper had taken from his
wallet.

"Thank you," she said, smiling.  "Martlet, take these poor tired fellows
into the hall at once, and see that they have every attention.  Set some
one to feed their horses."

"Thank you, my lady," said the man, with rough courtesy, as he took off
his steel cap.

"Ah, you are wounded," cried Lady Royland, with a look of horror.

"Only a scratch, my lady.  My comrade here is worse than I."

"Your wounds shall be seen to at once."

"If I might speak, my lady, a place to sit down for an hour or two, and
something to eat and drink, would do us more good than a doctor.  We
haven't had a good meal since we rode away from Whitehall and along the
western road a week ago."

"Eight days and a harf, comrad'," growled one of his companions.

"Is it?  Well, I haven't kept count."

"See to them at once, Martlet," said Lady Royland; and the horses were
led off, while, clinging to her son's arm, the anxious wife and mother
hurried into the library, threw herself into a chair, tore open the
great letter, and began, wild-eyed and excited, to read, while Roy
walked up and down the room with his eyes fixed longingly upon the
despatch till he could bear it no longer.

"Oh, mother!" he cried, "do, do, do pray give me a little bit of the
news."

"My poor boy! yes.  How selfish of me.  Roy, dear, there is something
terribly wrong!  Your dear father says he has been half-mad with
anxiety, for he has sent letter after letter, and has had no news from
us.  So at last he determined to send his own messengers, and despatched
five men to guard this letter to us--but I saw only three."

"No," said Roy, solemnly; "the roads are in the hands of the enemy,
mother, and two of the poor fellows were killed on the way.  Two of
these three are wounded."

"Yes, yes!  Horrible!  I could not have thought matters were so bad as
this."

"But father is quite well?"

"Yes, yes, my dear; but he says the king's state is getting desperate,
and that he will have to take the field at once.  But the letters I
sent--that he sent, my boy?"

"They must have all fallen into the enemy's hands, mother.  How bad
everything must be!  But pray, pray, go on.  What does he say?"

Lady Royland read on in silence for a few moments, and, as she read, the
pallor in her face gave way to a warm flush of excitement, while Roy, in
spite of his eagerness to hear more, could not help wondering at the
firmness and decision his mother displayed, an aspect which was
supported by her words as she turned to her son.

"Roy," she cried, "I was obliged to read first, but you shall know
everything.  While we have been here in peace, it seems that a terrible
revolution has broken out, and your father says that it will only be by
desperate efforts on the part of his friends that the king's position
can be preserved.  He says that these efforts will be made, and that the
king shall be saved."

"Hurrah!" shouted the boy, wildly.  "God save the king!"

"God save the king!" murmured Lady Royland, softly, with her eyes
closed; and her words sounded like a prayerful echo of her son's
utterance.

There was a pause for a few moments, and then Lady Royland went on.

"Your father says that we lie right out of the track of the trouble
here, and that he prays that nothing may disturb us; but as the country
grows more unsettled with the war, evil men will arise everywhere, ready
to treat the laws of the country with contempt, and that it is our duty
in his absence to be prepared."

"Prepared!  Yes, mother," cried Roy, excitedly; and he flung himself
upon his knees, rested his elbows on his mother's lap, and seized her
hands.  "Go on, go on!"

"He says that you have grown a great fellow now, and that the time has
come for you to play the man, and fill his place in helping me in every
way possible."

"Father says that, mother?" cried the boy, flushing scarlet.

"Yes; and that he looks to you to be my counsellor, and, with the help
of his faithful old servant Martlet, to do everything you can to put the
place in a state of defence."

"Why, mother," said Roy, "old Ben will go mad with delight."

Lady Royland suppressed a sigh, and went on firmly.

"He bids me use my discretion to decide whom among the tenants and
people of the village I can--we can--trust, Roy, and to call upon them
to be ready, in case of an emergency, to come in here and help to
protect the place and their own belongings; but to be very careful whom
I do trust, for an enemy within the gates is a terrible danger."

"Yes, of course," cried Roy, whose head seemed once more in a whirl.

"He goes on to say that there may not be the slightest necessity for all
this, but the very fact of our being prepared will overawe people who
might be likely to prove disaffected, and will keep wandering bands of
marauders at a distance."

"Of course--yes; I see," cried Roy, eagerly.  "Yes, mother, I'll go to
work at once."

"You will do nothing foolish, I know, my boy," said the mother, laying
one hand upon his head and gazing proudly in his eyes.

"Nothing if I can help it," he cried; "and I'll consult you in
everything, but--but--"

"Yes, my boy, speak out."

"I don't want to hurt your feelings, dear, and yet if I speak of a sword
or a gun--"

Lady Royland shivered slightly, but she drew a long, deep breath, and
raised herself up proudly.

"Roy," she said, "that was in times of peace, before this terrible
emergency had arisen.  As a woman, I shrink from bloodshed and
everything that suggests it.  It has been my constant dread that you, my
boy, should follow your father's profession.  `My boy a soldier!'  I
said, as I lay sleepless of a night, and I felt that I could not bear
the thought.  But Heaven's will be done, my son.  The time has come when
my weak, womanly fears must be crushed down, and I must fulfil my duty
as your dear father's wife.  We cannot question his wisdom.  A terrible
crisis has come upon our land, and we must protect ourselves and those
who will look to us for help.  Then, too, your father calls upon us to
try to save his estate here from pillage and the ruthless wrecking of
wicked men.  Roy, my boy, I hope I shall not be such a weak woman now,
but your help and strengthener, as you will be mine.  You will not hurt
my feelings, dear, in what you do.  You see," she continued, smiling, as
she laid her hand upon the hilt of the sword the lad had so hastily
buckled on, "I do not wince and shudder now.  Fate has decided upon your
career, Roy, young as you are, and I know that my son's sword, like his
father's, will never be drawn unless it is to protect the weak and
maintain the right."

"Never, mother," cried the boy, enthusiastically; and as Lady Royland
tried to raise him, he sprang to his feet.  "Oh," he cried, "I wish I
were not such a boy!"

"I do not," said his mother, smiling.  "You are young, and I am only a
woman, but our cause will make us strong, Roy.  There," she continued,
embracing him lovingly, "the time has come to act.  You will consult
with Martlet what to do about the defences at once, while I write back
to your father.  When do you think the men will be fit to go back?"

"They'd go to-night, mother; they seem to be just the fellows; but their
horses want two or three days' rest."

"Roy!"

"Yes, mother.  It's a long journey, and they'll have to go by
out-of-the-way roads to avoid attack."

"But we have horses."

"Yes, mother, but they would sooner trust their own."

Lady Royland bowed her head.

"The letters must go back by them," she said, "and they must start at
the earliest minute they can.  But there is another thing.  It is right
that Master Pawson should be taken into our counsels."

"Master Pawson, mother?"

"Yes, my boy.  He is your father's trusted servant, and I must not
slight any friends.  Go and ask him to come here."

"Can't," said Roy, shortly.  "He went out this morning, and said he
didn't think he would be back to dinner."

"Indeed!"

"Gone over to see the vicar."

"Gone to Mr Meldew," said Lady Royland, whose face looked very grave.
"Then it must be deferred till his return.  Now, Roy, what will you do
first?"

"See to the gates, mother, and that no one goes out or comes in without
leave."

"Quite right, Captain Roy," said Lady Royland, smiling.

The boy looked at her wonderingly.

"My heart is more at rest, dear," she said, gently, "and that aching
anxiety is at an end.  Roy, we know the worst, and we must act for the
best."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

BEN MEANS BUSINESS.

With his blood seeming to effervesce in his veins from the excitement he
felt, Roy placed the writing-materials in front of his mother and then
hurried out, crossed the drawbridge, and made for the little gate tower,
where, upon hearing steps, the old retainer came out, bent of head and
stooping, with one ear raised.

"Master Roy's step," he said; and as the boy came closer: "Yes, it's
you, sir; just like your father's step, sir, only younger.  What's the
news, Master Roy?"

"Bad, Jenk,--civil war has broken out.  Father is well and with his
regiment, but there is great trouble in the land.  I'm going to put the
castle in a state of defence.  Shut the gate again and keep it close.
No one is to come in or out without an order from my mother or from me."

"That's right, Master Roy, sir; that's right," piped the retainer.
"I'll just buckle on my sword at once.  She's as sharp and bright as
ever she was.  Nobody shall go by.  So there's to be a bit of a war, is
there?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Jenk."

"Don't say afraid so, Master Roy; sounds as if you would be skeart, and
your father's son couldn't be that.  But nobody goes by here without
your orders, sir, or my lady's, and so I tell 'em.  I'm getting on a bit
in years, and I can't see quite as well as I should do, not like I used;
but it's the sperrit as does it, Master Roy."

"So it is, Jenk; and you've got plenty in you, haven't you?"

"Ay, ay, ay, Master Roy," quavered the old man, "plenty.  Up at the
house there they get talking about me as if I was so very old; but I'll
let some of 'em see.  Why, I want five year o' being a hundred yet, and
look at what they used to be in the Scripter.  I'll keep the gate fast,
sir--I did this morning, didn't I, when they three dragoons come up?"

"Yes, capitally, Jenk--but I must go.  I'm busy."

"That's right, sir--you go.  Don't you be uneasy about the gate, sir.
I'll see to that."

"Yes," said Roy to himself, "it is the spirit that does it.  Now I
wonder whether I've got spirit enough to do all the work before me!"

He hurried back over the drawbridge, and glanced down into the clear
moat where he could see the great pike lying, but he did not stop to
think about catching it, for he hurried on to the servants' hall,
drawing himself up as he felt the importance of his position, and upon
entering, the three troopers, who were seated at a good substantial
meal, all rose and saluted their colonel's son.

"Got all you want, men?" said Roy, startling himself by his decisive way
of speaking.

"Yes, sir; plenty, sir," said the man who bore the despatch.  "Master
Martlet saw to that."

"That's right.  Now, look here, of course we want you and your horses to
have a good rest, but when do you think you'll be ready to take a
despatch back?"

"Take a despatch back, sir?" said the man, staring.  "We're not to take
anything back."

"Yes; a letter to my father."

"No, sir.  Colonel Sir Granby Royland's, orders were that we were to
stop here and to help take care of the castle."

"Were those my father's commands?" cried Roy, eagerly.

"Yes, sir, to all three of us--all five of us, it were, and I'm sorry I
couldn't bring the other two with me; but I did my best, didn't I,
lads?"

"Ay, corporal," chorused the others.

"Oh, that's capital!" cried Roy, eagerly.  "It relieves me of a good
deal of anxiety.  But my father--he'll expect a letter back."

"No, sir; he said there was no knowing where he would be with the
regiment, and we were to stay here till he sent orders for us to
rejoin."

"Where is Martlet?" asked Roy then.

"Said something about an armoury," replied the corporal.

Roy hurried off, and in a few minutes found the old soldier busy with a
bottle of oil and a goose feather, applying the oil to the mechanism of
a row of firelocks.

"Oh, here you are, Ben," cried Roy, excitedly.  "News for you, man."

"Ay, ay, sir, I've heard," said the old soldier, sadly.  "More rust."

"Yes, for you to keep off.  My father's orders are that the castle is to
be put in a state of defence directly."

Down went the bottle on the floor, and the oil began to trickle out.

"But--but," stammered the old fellow, "what does her ladyship say?"

"That she trusts to my father's faithful old follower to work with me,
and do everything possible for the defence of the place.  Hurrah, Ben!
God save the king!"

"Hurrah!  God save the king!" roared Ben; and running to the wall he
snatched a sword from where it hung, drew it, and waved it round his
head.  "Hah!  Master Roy, you've made me feel ten years younger with
those few words."

"Have I, Ben?  Why, somehow all this has made me feel ten years older."

"Then you've got a bit off me that I had to spare, Master Roy, and good
luck to you with it.  Then," he continued, after listening with eager
attention to Roy's rendering of his father's orders, "we must go to work
at once, sir."

"Yes; at once, Ben."

"Then the first thing is to order the gate to be kept shut, and that no
one goes out or in unless he has a pass from her ladyship or from you."

"Done, Ben.  I have been to old Jenk, and he has shut the gate, and
buckled on his old sword."

"Hah! hum! yes," said the old soldier, rubbing one of his ears; "that
sounds very nice, Master Roy, but," he continued, with a look of
perplexity, "it doesn't mean much, now, does it?"

"I don't understand you."

"Why, sir, I mean this: that if any one came up to the gate and wanted
to come in--`Give the pass,' says Jenk.  `Haven't got one,' says whoever
it is.  `Can't pass, then,' says Jenk, and then--"

"Well, yes, and then?" said Roy.  "Why, sir, if he took a good deep
breath, and then gave a puff, he'd blow poor old Jenk into the moat.
He's a good old boy, and I don't want to hurt his feelings, but we can't
leave things at the gate like that."

"But it would break his heart to be told he is--he--"

"Too rusty to go on, sir," said Ben, grimly.  "But it would break her
ladyship's heart if we didn't do our duty, and we shan't be doing that
if we leave our outwork in the hands of poor old Jenk."

"What's to be done?"

"I know, sir.  Tell him the gate's very important, and that he must have
two men with him, and let him suppose they're under his command."

"That's it, capital!" cried Roy.  "Then we must place two men there with
him at once."

"Ye-e-es, sir," said Ben, drily.  "But who are we to place there--
ourselves?"

Roy looked hard at Ben, and Ben looked hard at Roy.

"You see, sir, we've got the castle and the weepuns, but we've no
garrison.  That's the first thing to see to.  Why, when those three
troopers have gone back with their despatch, we shall have as good as
nobody."

"But they're not going back, Ben.  Father's orders are that they're to
stay."

"Three trained soldiers, sir, to start with!" cried Ben.  "Me four, and
you five.  Why, that's just like five seeds out of which we can grow a
little army."

"Then there are the men-servants."

"Well, sir, they're more used to washing cups and cleaning knives, and
plate, and horses; but we shall have to lick 'em into shape.  Let's see,
there's the three men indoors, the groom, and coachman, that makes five
more."

"And the two gardeners."

"Of course, sir!  Why, they'll make the best of 'em all.  Twelve of us."

"And Master Pawson, thirteen."

"P'ff! him!" cried Ben, with a look of contempt.  "What's he going to
do?  Read to the sentries, sir, to keep 'em from going to sleep?"

"Oh, he'll be of some use, Ben.  We mustn't despise any one."

"Right, sir; we mustn't: so as soon as he comes back--he's gone over to
Parson Meldew's--"

"Yes, I know."

"You tell him to get to his books and read all he can about sword and
pike wounds, and how to take a bullet out of a man when he gets hit.
Then he can cut up bandages, and get ready knives and scissors and
thread and big needles."

"Do you mean in case of wounds, Ben?"

"Why, of course, sir."

"But do you think it likely that we shall have some--"

"Rather queer sort of siege if we don't have some damage done, sir.
Well, that settles about Master Pawson.  Now, what next?"

"The men at the farm, Ben."

"Yes, sir; we ought to get about ten or a dozen.  They're good stout
lads.  We must have them up at once and do a bit of drilling.  They
needn't stay here yet, but they can be got in order and ready to come in
at a moment's notice.  Next?"

"All the tenants must be seen, Ben.  They'll all come too, and drill
ready for service if wanted."

"And that means about another twenty, I suppose, sir."

"Yes, or more, Ben."

"If they're staunch, sir."

"Ah, but they would be.  My father's own tenants!"

"I dunno, sir.  If times are going to be like we hear, you'll find
people pretty ready to go over to the strongest side."

"Oh, nonsense!  There isn't a man round here who wouldn't shout for the
king."

"Quite right, sir," said Ben.  "I believe that."

"Then why do you throw out such nasty hints?"

"'Cause I've got my doubts, sir.  Lots on 'em'll shout for the king, but
if it comes to the pinch and things are going wrong, I want to know how
many will fight for the king."

"Every true man, Ben."

"Azackly, sir; but, you see, there's a orful lot o' liars in the world.
But we shall see."

"Well, we've got to keep the castle, Ben."

"We have, sir, and keep it we will, till everybody's about wounded or
dead, and the enemy comes swarming and cheering in, and then they shan't
have it."

"Why, they'll have got it, Ben," said Roy, laughing, but rather
uncomfortably, for the man's words as to the future did not sound
pleasant.

"Ay, and I shall take it away from 'em, sir; for if the worst comes to
the worst, I shall have made all my plans before, and I'll do a bit o'
Guy Fawkesing."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I should ha' thought you'd ha' understood that, sir."

"Of course I do; but how could you blow up the castle?"

"By laying a train to the powder-magazine, knocking the heads out of a
couple o' kegs, and then up it goes."

"Powder--magazine--kegs?" cried Roy.  "Why, we haven't one, and I wanted
to talk to you about getting some.  How's it to be done?"

"By going to your father's lib'ry, sir, and opening the little drawer as
he keeps locked up in the big oak table.  There's the keys there."

"Yes, of the wine-cellars, Ben; but no--Oh, absurd!"

"Is it, my lad?  I think not.  Think it's likely as your grandfather and
his father would have had swords and pikes and armour, and big guns and
little guns, and not had no powder to load 'em with?"

"Well, it doesn't sound likely, Ben; but I'm sure we have none here."

"Well, sir, begging your pardon for contradicting my master, I'm sure as
we have."

"Down in the cellars?"

"Down in one of 'em, sir."

"But I never knew."

"Perhaps not, sir; but I've been down there with your father, and I
don't suppose it's a thing he'd talk about.  Anyhow, there it is, shut
up behind three doors, and I'll be bound to say dry as a bone.  It's
very old, but good enough, may be.  All the same, though, Master Roy,
the sooner we try what it's like the better, and if you'll take my
advice you'll have one of the big guns loaded and fired with a good
round charge.  That'll try the gun, scale it out, and give 'em a hint
for miles round that, though Sir Granby's gone to the wars, his son's at
home, and his dame too, and that they don't mean to stand any nonsense
from a set o' crop-eared rascals.  That'll do more good, Master Roy,
than a deal o' talking, and be less trouble."

"We must do it at once, Ben," said Roy, decidedly.

"The first thing, sir; and, by the way, as we're going to begin to get
our garrison together, it'll be as well to make a little show.  If I was
you, I'd put on a pair of buff boots, wear a sword and a sash always,
and I don't say put on a lot of armour, but if you'll let me, I'll take
the gorget off that suit of Italian armour, and you can wear that."

"But it will look so--" said Roy, flushing.

"Yes, sir; but we've got to look so," said the old soldier, decidedly.
"It makes people respect you; and if you'll be good enough to give me my
orders, I'll take to a buff coat and steel cap at once."

"Very well, do so," said Roy.  "But I will not promise to make any show
myself."

"But you must, sir, please, for her ladyship's sake.  Look here, Master
Roy, you'll be calling the tenants and labourers together, and you'll
have to make them a speech."

"Shall I?" said Roy, nervously.

"Why, of course, sir, telling 'em what their duty is, and calling upon
'em to fight for their king, their country, and their homes.  Yes,
that's it, sir; that's just what you've got to say."

"Well, Ben, if I must, I must."

"Then must it is, sir; but if they come here to the castle, and you're
like you are now, they'll be only half warmed up, and say that Master
Roy can talk, and some of 'em'll sneer and snigger; but if you come out
when they're all here, looking like your father's son in a cavalier hat
and feathers, with the gorget on, and the king's colours for a sash, ay,
and buff boots and spurs--"

"Oh, no, not spurs when I'm walking," protested Roy.

"Yes, sir, spurs,--a big pair with gilt rowels, as'll _clink-clink_ with
every step you take; they'll set up a cheer, and swear to fight for you,
when you've done, to the death.  And look here, Master Roy, when you've
done speaking, you just wave your hat, and chuck it up in the air, as if
fine felts and ostridge feathers weren't nothing to you, who called upon
'em all to fight for the king."

Roy drew a deep sigh, for his follower's words had nearly made him
breathless.

"We shall see," he sighed.

"Yes, sir, we shall see," cried Ben.  "So now, if you please, sir, I
won't wait to be getting into my buff jerkin now, but I'll take your
orders for what we're to do first."

"Yes, Ben; what ought we to do first?"

"Well, sir, it's you as know.  You said something about strengthening
the guard at the gate."

"Oh, but I say, Ben, that was you said so."

"Only as your mouthpiece, sir."

"But it sounds silly to talk about strengthening the guard at the gate
when we've only got old Jenk, and no regular sentry to put there."

"Never you mind about how it sounds, sir, so long as it's sense," cried
Ben, striking his fist into his left palm.  "We've got to make our
garrison and our sentries out of the raw stuff, and the sooner we begin
to sound silly now the better.  It won't be silly for any one who comes
and finds a staunch man there, who would sooner send a musketoon bullet
through him than let him pass."

"No, Ben, it will not, certainly.  Whom shall I send?"

"Well, sir, if I was you, I'd do it as I meant to go on.  You give me my
orders, and I'll go and enlist Sam Rogers in the stable at once, bring
him here fierce-like into the armoury; put him on a buff coat, buckle on
a sword, and give him his bandoleer and firelock, and march him down
with sword drawn to relieve guard with old Jenk."

"But he'll be cleaning the troopers' horses, and begin to laugh."

"Sam Rogers, sir?  Not him.  He'll come like a lamb; and when I marches
him down to the gate, he'll go out like a lion, holding his head up with
the steel cap on, and be hoping that all the servant-girls and the cook
are watching him.  Don't you be afraid of him laughing.  All I'm afraid
of is, that while he's so fresh he'll be playing up some games with his
firelock, and mocking poor old Jenk."

"Pray, warn him, then."

"You trust me, sir.  Then, when that's done, perhaps you'll give the
orders to find quarters for our new men, and tell 'em that they're to
rest till to-morrow by your orders; and after that there's the
drawbridge and portcullis."

"Yes; what about them?"

"Why, sir, you know how they've been for years.  You must have 'em seen
to at once; and, if I was you, I'd have the portcullis seen to first,
and the little sally-port door in the corner of the tower.  We shall
want half a dozen men.  I'm a bit afraid of the old bars and rollers,
but we shall see."

"Order the men to come, then, when you've done, and let us see, and get
everything right as soon as possible."

Ben saluted in military fashion, and marched off to the hall, where Roy
heard him speak in a cheering, authoritative voice to the new-comers,
and then came out to march across to the stables, which were in the
basement of the east side of the castle, with their entrance between the
building and the court; but the gate-way that had opened into the
court-yard had been partly closed up when that was turned into a
flower-garden, and the archway was now covered with ivy.

Roy went up to one of the corridors beneath the ramparts, and watched,
out of curiosity, to see how the groom would take his new orders.

He was not long kept in suspense, for the sturdy young fellow came out
talking eagerly with Ben and turning down his sleeves.  Then they went
inside, through the great gate-way to the armoury, and in an incredibly
short space of time came out together, the groom in steel jockey-shaped
cap with a spike on the top, buff coat, sword, and bandoleer, and
shouldering the clumsy firelock of the period.

As they reached the archway, Ben stopped short, drew his sword, said a
few words in a sharp tone, and marched off, with Sam Rogers keeping
step; while a muttering of voices told of how strangely matters had
turned out according to old Ben's prophecy, for, on turning to see what
it meant, Roy saw down through one of the narrow windows that the whole
of the household had turned out to do likewise.  But there was no
giggling and laughing, for the women seemed to be impressed, and the
men-servants were shaking their heads and talking together earnestly
about the evil times that had come.

Another sound made Roy turn sharply in the other direction to see his
mother approaching.

"Then you have begun, my son," she said, gravely.

"Yes, mother.  The sentry was set, after a long talk with Martlet."

"You need not speak in that apologetic tone, my boy," said Lady Royland,
quietly.  "I see the necessity, and I am sure you are doing well.  Now,
come and tell me more of your plans."

She led the way to the library, and as they entered Roy glanced towards
the big oak table standing at one end; his eyes fixed themselves upon
the small drawer, and he seemed to see a rusty old key lying there, one
whose wards were shaping themselves plainly before his eyes, as he told
of his arrangements with the old soldier.

"Yes, you have begun well, Roy," said Lady Royland at last.  "And what
Martlet says is quite true."

"But you would not dress up as he advises, mother?" protested Roy,
rather bashfully.

"Dress up?  No, my boy; but I would put on such things as a cavalier and
an officer would wear under such circumstances,--a gorget, sword, boots,
hat and feathers, and the king's colours as a scarf.  Why, Roy, your
father would wear those in addition to his scarlet coat."

"Yes, mother; but he is a soldier."

"So are you now, Roy," said the dame, proudly.  "And so must every man
be who loves his king and country.  Martlet is quite right, and I shall
prepare your scarf and feathers with my own hands."

"Why, mother," cried the boy, wonderingly, "how you have changed since
even a short time ago."

"So has our position, Roy, my son," she said, firmly.  "Who's there?"

The butler entered.

"Benjamin Martlet would be glad, my lady, if Master Roy would come and
give him his instructions, and, if you please, my lady, he wishes me to
help."

"And you will, I am sure, Grey?"

"Oh, yes, my lady," said the man, eagerly; "but I was afraid your
ladyship might be wanting something, and no one to answer the bell."

"I want my servants, Grey, to help me to protect their master's
interests while he is forced to be away in the service of the king.  Can
I count upon that help?"

"Yes, my lady, to a man," cried the old servant, eagerly.

"I thought so," said Lady Royland, smiling proudly.  "You will go, then,
Roy, and see what Martlet is to do."

Roy was already at the door, and five minutes later he was standing in
the gate-way with every man employed about the place, the three troopers
being fast asleep, exhausted by their long journey down from town.



CHAPTER NINE.

PORTCULLIS AND BRIDGE.

As Roy appeared, there was a low buzz of voices, and directly after the
butler cried, "Three cheers for the young master!" with a hearty result.

Just then Ben came close up to say, confidentially--

"I made it all comfortable with poor old Jenk, sir."

"That's right; and Sam Rogers?"

"Proud's a dog with two tails, sir.  Now, sir, if you'll give the
orders, we'll go up and see what can be done about making the place
safe, and I'm afraid we're going to have a job."

Roy felt a slight sensation of shrinking, but he mastered it, and
calling to the men to follow him, he turned in by the low arched
door-way, and ascended to the first chamber of the gate tower, to pause
where the great iron grating hung before him in its stone grooves formed
in the wall, and with its spikes descending through the slit on the
floor, below which the stone paving of the entrance could be seen.

To make sure of its not descending by any accident of the chains giving,
three massive pieces of squared oak had been thrust through as many of
the openings at the bottom, so that the portcullis rested upon them as
these crossed the long narrow slit through which it descended, and a
little examination showed that if the chains were tightened by turning
the two capstans by means of the bars, and the chains drawn a little
over the great wheels fixed in the ceiling, it would be easy enough to
withdraw the three supports and let the grating down.

"Chains look terribly rusty," said Roy.  "Think they'll bear it, Ben?"

"They're rusty, sir, and a good deal eaten away; but they used to put
good work into these sort o' things, because if they hadn't, they'd have
come down and killed some one.  Shall we try?"

"Yes; no one can be hurt if a watch is kept below.  Go down, one of you,
and see that no one passes under."

One of the men ran down, the old capstan-bars were taken from the
corners, and two men on each side inserted them into the holes, and
waited for the order to tighten the chains round the rollers.

"Ready?  All together!" cried Roy; and the men pulled the bars towards
them with a will, the chains tightened, the pulleys creaked and groaned,
and the grating rose an inch or two, sufficient for the pieces of oak
crossing the narrow slit to have been drawn out, when _crack_--_crack_--
two of the bars the men handled snapped short off, and their holders
fell, while the portcullis sank back to its old place with a heavy jar.

"Hundred years, perhaps, since they've been used," said Roy.  "Any one
hurt?"

"No, sir," said the men, laughing in spite of a bruise or two; and the
bars being examined, it was found that the tough oak of which they were
composed was completely honeycombed by worms, and powdered away to dust.

"First job, then, sir, to make new bars," said Ben, promptly.

"Yes; we'll have the carpenters in from the village directly, Ben.  With
these pulleys well greased, I suppose this will work."

"Ay, sir, no doubt about that; it's the drawbridge I'm afraid of," said
Ben.

"Let's go up and see, then."

Roy led the way again, and the men followed into the dark chamber above,
where the old furnace stood, and in the corners on either side of the
narrow window, with its hollowed-out notches for firing or using
cross-bows from, were two great round chimney-like constructions built
in the stone, up and down which huge weights, which depended from
massive chains and passed over great rollers, had formerly been used to
glide.

Ben shook his head as he put his hand upon one of the weights, which
were formed of so many discs of cast lead, through the centre of which
the great chain passed, a solid bar of iron being driven through a link
below to keep them from sliding off.

The weights hung about breast-high; and at the slight pressure of the
man's hand began to swing to and fro in the stone place open to the
chamber, but closed below where they ran down in the wall at the sides
of the gate-way.

"Well, these must have been worked by hand, Ben," said Roy.  "Men must
have stood here and run them down.  Two of you go to the other side, and
all press down together, but stand ready to jump back in case anything
breaks.  I don't see how you can be hurt if you do."

"No, sir; no one can't be hurt, for the weights will only go down these
holes with a bang."

"Try, then.  Now, all together--pull!"

The men tugged and strained, but there was no sign of yielding, and Ben
shook his head.

"Rollers must be rusted, sir, and stick."

But upon his climbing up to examine them, it proved that these had not
been made to turn, only for the chains to slide over them, as the
grooves worn in the iron showed.

"Nothing to stop 'em here, sir," said the man.

"Then it must be set fast at the end of the bridge," said Roy; and,
descending with the men, they crossed the moat and found the bridge
completely wedged and fixed in the opening of stone which embraced the
end.

Picks and crowbars were fetched, the stones and sand scraped out, and
when the place was cleared they reascended to the furnace-chamber, when,
upon another trial being made, it was found that the weights so
accurately balanced the bridge that with very little exertion the chains
came screeching and groaning over the iron rollers, and the men gave a
cheer as the end rose up and up till it was drawn very nearly up to the
face of the tower.

Ben rubbed his ear and grinned with satisfaction.

"Come, sir," he said, "we can make ourselves pretty safe that way; but
I'm afraid the moat's so filled up that a man can wade across."

"That he can't," cried one of the gardeners.  "I've plumbed it all over,
and there aren't a place less nor seven or eight feet deep, without
counting the mud."

"Then you've been fishing!" thought Roy, but he did not say so, only
gave orders for the bridge to be lowered again, and sent a man for a
supply of grease to well lubricate the rollers and chains.

Down went the bridge, in a most unmusical way, and as soon as it was in
its place once more, a man was sent across for the village carpenter to
come with his tools, there being plenty of good seasoned oak-wood stored
up in the buildings.

Then a consultation ensued.  They had the means of cutting themselves
off from the outer world, and in a short time the portcullis would add
to the strength of their defences.

"What's next, Ben?" said Roy.

"I'm a-thinking, sir.  We've done a lot already, but there's so much
more to do that things get a bit jumbled like in my head.  We've got to
get our garrison, and then there's two very important things--wittles
and water!"

"The well supplies that last," said Roy; "and if we were running short,
we could use the water from the moat for everything but food."

"Yes, sir, that's good.  Cart must go to the mill, and bring all the
corn and flour that can be got.  Then we must have some beasts and sheep
from the farm."

"That's bad," said Roy, "because they'll want feeding."

"Have to be driven out every morning, sir, till we're besieged.  Must
have some cows in too, so that if we are beset we can be independent.
But first of all, sir, we ought to see to the powder and the guns.  But
you and me must see to the powder ourselves.  We shall want some help
over the guns, and I'm thinking as you'd best make that carpenter stay.
The wheels are off one or two of the gun-carriages, and there's no
rammers or sponges; and I shouldn't wonder if the carriages as I painted
over and pitched are only so many worm-eaten shells."

"Well, all these things will have to be got over by degrees, Ben.  We
have done the first great things towards making the castle safe, and an
enemy need not know how unprepared we are."

"I don't know so much about being safe, sir."

"What, not with the drawbridge up?"

"No, sir," said Ben, in a low tone.  "But suppose you sends the men to
dinner now, and orders 'em to meet in a hour's time in the court-yard--
oh dear, oh dear! that's all garden now."

"You can make room for the men to meet without disturbing the garden,"
said Roy, sharply.

"Very well, sir; you're master.  Will you give your orders?"

Roy gave them promptly, and the men walked away.

"Now, then," said Roy, "what did you mean about the place not being
safe?  With the bridge up, they could only cross to us by rafts or
boats, and then they couldn't get in."

"Well, sir, it's like this.  I've heard tell, though I'd forgotten all
about it till just now, as there's a sort o' passage goes out from the
dungeons under the nor'-west tower over to the little ruins on the hill
over yonder."

"Impossible!  Why, it would have to be half a mile long, Ben."

"All that, sir."

"But it couldn't go under the moat.  It would be full of water."

"Nay, not if it was made tight, sir."

"But what makes you say that?  You've never seen the passage?"

"No, sir, I've never been down, but your father once said something
about it.  It was a long time before that tower was done up and made
right for Master Pawson.  I don't recollect much about it, but I suppose
it must be there."

"That's another thing to see to, then," said Roy.  "Because, if it does
exist, and the enemy heard of it, he might come in and surprise us.  I
know; we'll find it, and block it up."

"Nay, I wouldn't do that, sir.  It might be that we should have to go
away, and it isn't a bad thing to have a way out in case of danger."

"Not likely to do that, Ben," said Roy, haughtily.  "We are going to
hold the place."

"Yes, sir, as long as we can; but we can't do impossibilities.  Now,
sir, will you go and have your bit o' dinner, while I have mine?"

"Oh, I don't feel as if I could eat, Ben; I'm too full of excitement."

"More reason why you should go and have your dinner, sir.  Man can't
fight without he eats and drinks."

"Nor a boy, neither--eh, Ben?"

"That's so, sir; only I wouldn't be talking before the men about being
only a boy.  You leave them to say it if they like.  But they won't;
they'll judge you by what you do, sir; and if you act like a man,
they'll look at you as being the one in command of them, and behave like
it."

"Very well, I'll go to dinner, and in an hour meet you here."

"Fifty minutes, sir.  It's a good ten minutes since the men went in."

Roy joined his mother, feeling, as he said, too full of excitement to
eat; but he found the meal ready, with one of the maids in attendance,
and everything so calm and quiet, that, as they sat chatting, it seemed
as if all this excitement were as unsubstantial as the distant rumours
of war; while, when the meal was at an end, his mother's words tended to
lend some of her calm to his excited brain.

"I have been hearing of all that you have done, Roy," she said.  "It is
excellent; but do not hurry.  I cannot afford to have you ill."

That was a fresh idea, and the consequences of such a trouble too
horrible to be contemplated; but it made Roy determine to take things
more coolly, and in this spirit he went to where the servants were
assembled in the gate-way, and joined his trusty lieutenant, who had
just drawn them up in line.



CHAPTER TEN.

ROY VISITS THE POWDER-MAGAZINE.

"Now, Ben, what next?"

"The thing I've been thinking, sir, is that, little as it be, we must
make the most of our garrison.  It's war time now, and if you'll give
the order I'll march the men to the armoury and serve out the weepuns
and clothes."

Roy nodded, gave the word for the men to march, counter-ordered it, at a
hint from Ben, and then, telling them to face right, put himself at
their head, and marched them to the long, low room at once.

Ben began to serve out the buff jerkins and steel caps.

"Can't stop for no trying on now," he said; "you must do as we used in
the army,--change about till you get them as fits you."

This done, the firelocks and bandoleers followed, and, lastly, to each
man a belt and sword.

And all the time the old soldier handed every article to the recipient
with a grave dignity and a solemnity of manner which seemed to say, "I
am giving treasures to you that I part from with the greatest regret,"
and he finished with--

"Now, my lads, look here: it's a great honour to bear arms in the
service of your king, and if you're carrying Sir Granby Royland's arms
you're carrying the king's, so take care of 'em.  A good soldier
wouldn't have a speck of rust on his helmet or his sword; they're as
bright as I can make 'em now, and as sharp, so mind they're always so.
Now go to your new quarters and put 'em on--proper, mind; and your
master, the captain here, will have a parade in an hour's time."

The men went off, leaving Roy wondering at the calmness with which he
stood by listening while old Ben talked to the men and kept on referring
to him as "your master."

Ben now turned to him.  "What do you say, sir?" he said.  "Don't you
think we had better go down and see if all's right in the
powder-magazine?"

"But it's in the cellar, Ben, and you'd want a light."

"Hardly fair, sir, to call it the cellar.  I believe it's one of the old
dungeons where they used to shut people up in the good old times."

"That would be darker still, Ben.  How are we to see?"

"Have to feel, sir; for I don't fancy taking down a lantern.  Once we
get there and the place open, we can go round and tell with our hands
how many kegs there are on the shelves, and then if we bring one out and
try it, and it turns out all right, we shall know we're safe."

"Very well: it isn't a nice job; but, if it has to be done, we'd better
get it over."

"As you say, sir, it aren't a nice job; but, if we're very careful, I
don't see as we can come to much harm; so, if you'll get the keys, sir,
we'll go at once."

Roy nodded, and went in without a word, to find his mother seated in the
library writing.

"What is it, my boy?" she said.  "What do you want?"

Roy hesitated for a moment, and then said, rather huskily, "The keys.
Ben and I are going down into the magazine."

Lady Royland looked at him in a wondering way.

"The magazine?  Do you mean the store-room?"

"No; the powder-magazine."

She started now, and looked anxious.

"I had almost forgotten its existence, Roy.  But is it necessary?  It
may be dangerous to go into such a place."

"We shall take care, mother, and have no light.  It is necessary, Ben
says, for we must be provided with gunpowder, and he wants to try
whether it is good, because it must be very old."

"Very old, my boy.  Probably older than your grandfather's day.  I
hardly like you to go upon such an errand."

"But if I'm to be captain, mother, and look after the place, I can't go
back and tell Ben that.  It would look so weak."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Lady Royland, making an effort to be calm
and firm.  "But you will be very careful, Roy."

"You may trust me, mother," he said; and she drew the keys, with a sigh,
from the drawer in the old table, and handed them to her son, who took
them and returned to his lieutenant.

"Here they are, Ben," said Roy, quietly.  "Ready?"

"Yes, sir, I'm ready.  I want to be satisfied about that powder, because
it means so much to us, for I'm sure I don't know how we could get any
more in times like these.  You might send an order to London or one of
the places in Kent where they make it, but I should never expect to see
it come down here.  Well, we won't waste time; so come along."

Taking off his sword, and signing to Roy to do the same, he led the way
to the flight of spiral steps in the base of the south-east tower, but,
instead of going up, followed it down to where there was a low arched
door on their left and an opening on their right.

"Long time since any one's been in that old dungeon, Master Roy.
Hundred years, I dare say.  Maybe we shall be putting some one in, one
of these days!"

"In there?  Whom?  What for?"

"Prisoners, sir, for fighting against the king."  The old fellow
laughed, and went along through the opening on their right, which proved
to be an arched passage very dimly lit by a series of little pipe-like
holes sloping inward through the outer wall of the castle and opening
about a foot above the moat.  On their aft were doors of a row of
cellars built beneath the old court-yard; and as Ben walked onward he
said--

"Who'd think as there were green grass and flower-beds up above them,
Master Roy?  But we do see changes in this life.  Halt! here we are."

He stopped at the end of the passage, where there was a massive oak
door-way facing them beneath a curious old Norman arch, and, after
trying hard with three different keys, the rusty wards of the old lock
allowed one to turn, and the door was pushed wide open, creaking back
against the wall.

"Rather dark, sir," said Ben.  "Get on a deal better with a candle; but
it wouldn't do."

Roy peered in, and, as his eyes grew more accustomed to the obscurity,
he made out that he was gazing into a small stone chamber; but there was
no sign of chest or keg, or door leading onward.

"Why, the place is empty, Ben," said the boy, with a sigh of relief.

"We don't know that yet, sir, because we haven't seen it," said Ben,
quietly.  "This is only the way to the magazine.  People in the old days
knew what dangerous tackle it was, and took care of it according.  But
it's going to be a dark job, and no mistake."

The old soldier stepped in, and, stooping down in the middle of the
blank stone chamber, took hold of a large copper ring and drew up one
side of a heavy flagstone, which turned silently upon copper pivots, and
this flag he laid back till it was supported by the ring.

"Looks darker down there, sir," said Ben, as Roy stood beside him and
they tried to pierce the gloom, but only for the latter to make out the
dim outline of a stone step or two.

"You've been down here before, of course?" whispered Roy, as if the
place impressed him.

"Yes, sir; once.  There's a door at the bottom, and that's the magazine.
It will be all feeling, sir.  Will you go back while I try and get a
keg?"

"No," said Roy, firmly, but with an intense desire to say yes.  "I shall
stay while you go down.  There can be no danger if you have no light."

"Unless the rusty key strikes a light, sir."

"Oh, that's impossible," whispered Roy.

"I suppose I'd better pull off my boots before I go down; it'll perhaps
be safer."

He seated himself on the floor and pulled them off, Roy standing up,
leaning against the wall, and doing the same.

"What's that for?" said Ben.

"Coming with you.  I want to know what the place is like."

"Oh, there's no need for two of us to go, sir.  One's enough."

Roy said nothing, but followed the old fellow down eight stone steps,
and then they stood together against a door, which felt to the touch to
be very strongly made of stone, while, after a little searching about
for a keyhole, Ben said, with a grunt--

"Forgot!  There aren't no key to this.  It's fastened with these two
wooden bars."

"I thought they were part of the door, Ben," said Roy, in the same
suppressed tone.

"So did I, sir, at first.  I ought to have remembered, and I think I do
now.  Yes! that's the way; they turn on pins in the middle like wooden
buttons, and you turns one up and the other down out of the notches they
fit in, and then push the door, which has stone hinges."

As he spoke, Ben turned the two great wooden bars, and then pressed upon
the door.

"Hope the stones won't strike a light, sir," said Ben, in a low growl.

Roy felt as if a hand had suddenly compressed his heart, and he peered
wildly through the door-way, half expecting to see a tiny spark or two,
as a dull, grating sound arose; but the only sparks the door made were
those glittering in his own eyes, and he drew a deeper, harder breath as
the door ceased to move.

"Now, we've got to be careful, or we shall be hitting against one
another, sir!  Let me see: there's one step down, and then you're in a
place like a dairy, with two sets of stone shelves,--one just above the
floor, to keep it out of the damp; the other just about as high as a
man's breast,--and there's kegs of powder piled-up on them all.  You
stand still, and I'll go in."

"No; let me," said Roy, though why he said this puzzled the boy himself,
when the exciting minutes had passed.

"Well, sir, you're master, and if you'd rather, of course you can.  But
I don't mind going if you like."

"I'll go," said Roy, huskily, and, stretching out his hands in the now
profound darkness, he felt for and touched the side of the entrance,
then made a step forward to place his stockinged foot down upon the cold
stone floor, which struck up like ice.  Bringing forward his second
foot, he reached out for the side of the vault, and found the place just
as his companion had described, for his hands came in contact with small
wooden barrels, neatly piled one upon the other on a great stone shelf,
beneath which was another shelf laden in a similar way.

"Feel anything, sir?" said Ben, from the entrance.

"Yes: barrels, numbers of them," said Roy, huskily, his voice sounding a
mere whisper in the darkness.  "They go on--yes, to here.  It is only a
small vault."

"Yes, sir, but big enough.  Try the other side now."

Three steps took Roy there, and his hands touched barrels again piled-up
in the same way, and he whispered his experience.

"That's it, sir; just what I thought.  But what we want to know now is,
are they full?  Would you mind lifting one, or shall I come and do it?"

Roy shuddered a little, but he did not shrink.  Stretching out his
hands, he took a careful hold of one of the kegs, raised it to find it
fairly heavy, and then replaced it.

"Try another, sir."

Roy felt less compunction in lifting the second, and this being
replaced, he began to sound others with his knuckles, to find that they
all gave forth the same dull dead note.

"That's all we want to know down here, Master Roy," said the old soldier
at last; "and now I think we'd better get back and take a couple of the
little kegs with us.  I'd take one from each side, sir.  You pass 'em to
me and I'll carry 'em up safely.  It wouldn't do to drop one in case it
should go off."

These words, lightly spoken, made Roy thrill as he lifted down one of
the kegs, getting his fingers tightly fitted to the ends, and then stood
there in the black darkness, afraid to stir for fear he should strike
his elbow against anything and jerk the keg to the floor.

"Got him, sir?"

"Yes," said Roy, hoarsely.  "Whereabouts are you?"

"Here, just at the door, sir; I haven't moved," was the reply.

"Reach out your hands, then, and take hold very carefully.  Tell me when
you've got it tight."

"Tight hold," said Ben, the next moment.

"Sure?"

"Yes, sir; let it go, and I'll carry it up."

Roy quitted his hold of the keg unwillingly, and his heart beat
violently as he listened to the soft _pat, pat_, of his companion's
feet, and thought of the consequences of a fall.  Possibly one vivid
flash and the whole place destroyed; and yet for years they had all been
living so close to this terribly destructive power.

"If Ben should drop that keg!"

But Ben only set it down quietly a short distance from the top of the
steps and descended.

"T'other one, sir, please," he said; and Roy placed this in the man's
hands with the same shrinking feeling of reluctance.

It was carried up, and Roy stepped out, drawing the door after him, and
after a few trials managing to close the two bars which secured the
place.

"Don't want no help there, sir?"

"No; I have done it," was the reply; and Roy ascended the steps and
waited for his companion to close the stone trap.

"Not a bad hole this to shut any one up in if we ever wanted to get rid
of him, eh?  He'd have to shout pretty hard to make any one hear."

"Don't talk; let's get away from the dreadful place," said Roy, whose
face was wet with perspiration.  "Can you carry both kegs?"

"Half a dozen if you'd range 'em, sir," replied Ben.

"Then I'll fasten the doors after us; and, mind this, the magazine must
always be most carefully locked up."

"You trust me for that, sir!" replied Ben.  "I know too well what powder
can do to try any tricks or trust anybody with it but myself.  Why, do
you know, sir, what would happen if I gave a fellow like Tom Rogers a
keg to carry?"

"No; how can I tell?" said Roy, shortly.

"Well, I can, sir: he'd set it up on end, sit upon it, and take out a
flint and steel to light his pipe as like as not."

"Don't talk any more, please, Ben," said the boy as he proceeded to lock
one of the doors.

"No, sir; I only did it so as to keep you from thinking about what we've
been doing.  I suppose one would get used to it, but it does seem to me
rather ugly work even to an old soldier."

"Where are we to put these two kegs?" said Roy.

"In the big closet in the armoury, sir," replied Ben.  "Don't you fidget
about them; they shall be all right, for that's my part of the place,
and nobody goes in there without my leave."

"It's impossible to help feeling a little uncomfortable about them, Ben,
but I know you'll take care."

"I just think I will, sir.  I'm very particular about no harm coming to
Sergeant Benjamin Martlet; and as to doing anything that might mean
risks for my lady--but there, I needn't say nothing about that.  You can
come and see me put 'em away."

Roy insisted upon carrying one of the kegs, in spite of the old
soldier's opposition, not to relieve him of the load, but as a lesson to
himself in the art of getting used to the dangerous composition.  In
addition, it had occurred to him that he should have to be present when
the barrels were opened, and the gun or guns fired to test their utility
and strength after lying by for so many years.  Roy had never even heard
a big gun fired, and he told himself that it would not do for him to
display the slightest dread before the men.

Consequently he hid his nervousness, and helped to deposit the kegs in
the great cupboard which contained Ben's tools and cleaning apparatus.

"There!" said that individual, "as soon as we've had our parade, and
dismissed the troops, we'll see to that powder, and find out what it's
like."

He thrust the key into his pocket, buckled on his sword again, and,
drawing himself up, asked the "captain" to lead the way to the entrance
gate.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

MASTER PAWSON GIVES HIS OPINIONS.

"You're quite turning everything into military style, Ben," said Roy, as
they left the armoury.

"Yes, sir; nothing like it.  Keep the men up to the mark."

"But isn't it comic to speak of the people as the troops?"

"No, sir; not a bit.  Troops are troops whether there's many or few.
It's serious work is fighting, and, with due respect to you, sir,
there's nothing comic in treating our new levies as if they were
seasoned men."

All the same, though, Roy felt that he could not agree with his
companion, when they reached the great gate-way, now, for the time
being, made the parade ground.  To his eyes the aspect of the place was
decidedly comic, and his first impulse upon seeing the familiar figures
of butler, footman, grooms, and gardeners, looking stiff and awkward in
their heavy buff coats, creased and angular for want of use, was to
burst out laughing.

But he did not even smile, for he could see that the men were glancing
at him consciously, and he knew that any such display of mirth at their
personal appearance would have had a most disastrous effect.  As it was,
he behaved very wisely, for when Ben shouted out an order for them to
fall into line, Roy advanced to the men at once with a few encouraging
remarks.

"The accoutrements and things have been lying by so long," he said,
"that they must be very uncomfortable and stiff."

"Yes, sir, they really are," said the butler, shaking his head.  "You
feel as if you can't move in them; and my steel cap is terribly heavy."

"You'll find them grow more easy to wear after a bit," said Roy, at a
venture.  "I see you are pretty well fitted, and--What's that, Ben?"

For voices came from the gate-way beyond the drawbridge, a hundred yards
from where they were standing.

"I'll see, sir," said Ben, importantly, as he drew himself to the
salute.  "Beg pardon, sir," he added in a low tone; "be better now if
you'd make everything soldierly and speak to me as sergeant.  Don't see
why my old rank shouldn't tell now, and it will help me with the three
troopers, for one of 'em's a corporal."

Roy nodded, and directly after followed his sergeant, for he began to
have an inkling of what was going on.

As he crossed the drawbridge, it was in time to hear Master Pawson say,
in his high-pitched voice and in a tone of anger that was quite new--

"Oh, there you are, Martlet!  What is the meaning of all this folly?
Rogers dressed up, and telling me I can't come in without an order from
her ladyship."

"Quite right, sir," said Ben, steadily; "only he didn't know he was to
let in any one belonging to the place."

"But what does it mean?  I've been out since morning, and I return to
find the gate locked, and a man playing at being a sentry.  Why, Roy, my
dear boy, surely this is not some bad joke of yours?"

"Unfasten the gate, Rogers, and let Master Pawson in," said Roy, with
his face turning scarlet; and, seeing his look of confusion, the
secretary continued--

"Oh, I see; it is playing at soldiers.  And gracious me! who are those
under the gate-way?  Surely troops have not arrived in my absence.  My
dear Roy, surely her ladyship does not countenance this?  It is too
absurd."

Annoyance made the boy feel indignant, and he knew that those near him
expected him to speak on their behalf.

"It is not absurd, Master Pawson," he replied, sharply.  "The castle is
being placed under military rule now, and will be put in a state of
defence as soon as possible."

"That's so!" growled Ben, whose face was black as a thunder-cloud.

Master Pawson gave him a quick look, but he did not speak to him, but to
Roy.

"A state of defence!" he said, in a tone of raillery; "what nonsense!
and pray, why?"

"On account of the troubled times, sir."

"Troubled times!  What troubled times?"

"Surely you know, sir, who have been bringing my mother news of the
revolution."

Master Pawson's eyes opened a little more widely, for he was astonished.
The boy addressing him seemed no longer the quiet, sport-loving pupil
who came up into the tower to read with him and listen patiently while
he played on his violoncello, but one who had suddenly been transformed.

"Ah, you mean the tidings of those people who object to some of the
king's orders?  But really that has nothing to do with us out here in
this quiet, retired place.  And you are making it an excuse for all this
folly?  For shame, Roy!  Dressing up the servants, and putting on a
sword!  Go and take it off, boy, and do not make yourself ridiculous."

Ben glanced at his young master, whose face was redder than ever, and
waited impatiently for him to speak, while Master Pawson turned towards
his pupil smilingly, extending one hand to lay upon his shoulder, the
other to lay hold of his sword.

"There is nothing absurd or nonsensical about it, Master Pawson," he
said, firmly.  "As I have told you, the castle will be put in a state of
defence."

"You mean repair, my dear boy," said the secretary, mockingly.

"Yes, repair if you will, as to the weak parts, sir.  And as to playing
at soldiers, we may look a little awkward at first, as we are not used
to our weapons and arms; but that will soon pass off, and you will have
to join us, and do your best."

"That's so!" growled Ben, whose face began to lighten up a little as Roy
spoke out so firmly.

Master Pawson turned upon the old soldier with his eyebrows raised in a
look of surprise.

"My good man," he said, "will you please to recollect your position
here."

Ben saluted, and drew himself up as stiff as a pike.

"Nonsense, my dear boy!" continued Master Pawson; "this is all foolish
vanity, and I am sure that, when you have thought it over coolly, you
will see that it is childish for you, a boy, to imagine that you can do
any good by making this silly display.  Why, you must have been reading
some old book of chivalry and warlike adventure.  If you only knew how
ridiculous you look with that long sword buckled on, you would soon take
it off.  You look almost as absurd as Rogers here; I thought some
scarecrow had been stuck up by the gate."

"Yes, sir; that's right," growled Ben.  "Scarecrows who were going to
scare off all the crows as try to peck at his majesty the king."

"Silence, Martlet!" cried Roy, sharply.  "It is not your place to speak
to Master Pawson like that."

"I should think not," said the secretary, with his face flushing
slightly.

"Beg pardon, sir, a slip: not mutiny," said Ben.

"No, but insolence on the part of a menial," cried Master Pawson; "and
if it is repeated, I shall ask Lady Royland to dismiss you, sir, at
once."

"And my mother would refuse to dismiss so old and faithful a servant,"
said Roy, warmly.

The secretary looked at the boy wonderingly again, and his eyes
darkened; but he smiled the next moment.

"Come, come, Roy!" he said.  "Pray leave off this nonsense, and have the
gate left open.  Send the men back to their work.  You will thank me for
giving you this advice to-morrow."

"No, Master Pawson, I shall not," said Roy, firmly.  "The gate will be
kept locked; no one will be allowed to pass without the word, and
to-night the drawbridge will be raised; by to-morrow, I dare say, we
shall be able to lower the portcullis."

"Are you mad, my boy?"

"I hope not, sir."

"Do you mean to tell me that you will not listen to my advice?"

"Yes, sir; I cannot."

"Then, my good lad, I must be severe.  I have tried gentle means.  As
your tutor, in whose charge you have been left by your father, I command
you to give up all this silly mummery.  You have something better to do
than to waste time over such childish tricks.  Go to your room, and stay
there for a while before you come to mine with an apology.  Quick!  At
once!"

He stood, looking very important, as he gave a quick stamp and pointed
towards the castle.

"You, Jenkin, go and put that sword away!  Rogers and Martlet, go back
to your work at once!"

"Stop!" said Roy, firmly, as the men looked at him for help.  "Keep as
you are.  Master Pawson is my tutor, but he has no right to give you any
orders.--I must ask you, sir, to go to your room, and not to interfere
with what is going on around."

"Hah!" ejaculated Ben, expelling a tremendous pent-up breath, and he
turned and winked at Rogers and Jenk, though the poor old gate-keeper
could not see.

"The boy is mad," cried Master Pawson, flushing angrily now.  "This is
beyond bearing.  An act of rebellion.  Once more, sir, will you obey
me?"

"Obey you, Master Pawson?  In my studies, yes.  Over the business of the
castle, no!"

"I am striving to save you from being ridiculed by the whole district,
sir, and I appeal to you not to force me to have you humbled by going in
to complain to Lady Royland."

"You will not humble me, sir, by going in to complain to my mother, for
she endorses everything I have done."

"Her ladyship does!" cried Master Pawson, looking quite aghast.

"Of course.  All this is by my father's orders."

"Absurd, boy!  Your father has given no such orders."

"Indeed!" said Roy, flushing angrily at the contradiction.  "You have
not been at home, sir, or you would have seen his messengers, three
troopers, ride up this morning, from his regiment, who will stay to help
us strengthen the place.  There they are!  I hope you don't think they
look ridiculous in their uniforms."

For, as he was speaking, the three men, rested now and refreshed, had
marched from the servants' hall to where the new recruits were drawn up,
and stood there waiting for their captain to return.

For a few moments Master Pawson's face dropped, and he stared in his
utter astonishment.

But he recovered himself quickly, and said, with a smile--

"Of course I did not know of this, my dear boy, especially as it all was
while I have been away.  As your father has given the orders in his
letter,--and I am very glad that your mother has heard at last,--of
course there is nothing to be done, unless her ladyship can be brought
to see how unnecessary it all is, and likely to cause trouble and
misconstruction among the neighbours.  I am sure that if Sir Granby
could be here now, he would see that it was needless.  Whatever troubles
may arise, nothing can disturb us in this secluded spot.  There, I will
go now to attend to my reading.  When you have done playing at
soldiers," he added, with a slightly mocking emphasis upon the
"playing", "perhaps you will join me, Roy.  You will get tired of
handling swords too large for your hand, but of studies you can never
weary.  _Au revoir_.  I am sorry we had this little misunderstanding."

He patted Roy on the shoulder and walked on across the drawbridge, as if
not perceiving that his pupil followed him; and as he drew near the
servants, ranged rather awkwardly in their fresh habiliments, he smiled
in a way which made every man shrink and feel far more uncomfortable
than he had been made by his stiff buff coat.  But as he passed the
three troopers,--fine, manly-looking, seasoned fellows, who wore their
uniforms as if to the manner born, and who drew themselves up and
saluted him, evidently looking upon him as one of the important
personages of the house,--he ceased to smile, and went on to his study
in the north-west tower, looking very serious and much disturbed in
mind.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

GUNS AND NO POWDER?

Very little more was done with the men that day, for, in spite of Roy's
spirited behaviour, he felt afterwards that Master Pawson had cast a
damp upon the proceedings.  Still, he knew that something must be done
to counteract that sneering smile distributed among the men by the
tutor; and upon his return to the rank he walked to and fro, and
expressed his satisfaction at the promptitude they had displayed, and,
after ordering them to assemble at nine the next morning, he dismissed
them.  For the messenger had returned with the village carpenter, who
took one of the old capstan-bars for a pattern, and undertook to have
half a dozen new ones of the strongest oak made by the next morning.

Then there was the greasing of the drawbridge chains and rollers to see
to, and, when this was successfully done, Roy found to his satisfaction
that the men could raise or lower it with, if not ease, at all events
without much difficulty.

To the boy's great delight, he found that the three troopers dropped
into their places in the most easy manner, obeying his every order with
alacrity and displaying all the readiness of well-drilled men.  They
began by assisting at once with the cleaning and easing of the
drawbridge chains, one of them, after stripping off his coat, gorget,
and cap, climbing the supports to apply the lubricant to the rollers
from outside, where they needed it most; and when, that evening, Ben
suggested that one of the guns standing in the pleasaunce should be
examined, they made the servants stare by the deft way in which they
helped him to handle the ponderous mass of metal, hitching on ropes and
dragging it out from where it had lain half-covered with ivy to where it
was now planted, so that it could be made to sweep the road-way
approaching the bridge; the other one in the garden being afterwards
treated in the same way.

"Well, yes, sir, they're pretty heavy," said the corporal, in answer to
a compliment passed by Roy upon the ease with which the work had been
done; "but it isn't all strength that does it.  It's knack--the way of
handling a thing and all putting your muscle into it together."

"Ay, that's it," said Ben.  "That's what you see in a good charge.  If
it's delivered in a scattering sort o' way it may do good, but the
chance is it won't.  But if the men ride on shoulder to shoulder and
knee to knee, and then give point altogether--"

"Yes, as Sir Granby Royland's regiment can," said the corporal, proudly.

"Ay, and always did," cried Ben, excitedly.  "It takes something to
stand against 'em."

There was a dead silence then, and Roy's heart beat fast, for the war
spirit was getting hold of him tightly, for his eyes flashed, and his
eagerness to go on with the preparations grew stronger every hour.

"Now, about these guns, sergeant?" he said.

Ben's eyes twinkled as his rank was mentioned, and he gave his young
master a grateful look.

"Well, sir," he said, "they've been fast asleep in that garden all these
years, with enough ivy over 'em to keep 'em warm in winter and the sun
off 'em in summer; but, now they've been woke up, I believe they'll bark
as loudly and bite as well as any dogs of their size.  If they'd been
cast iron, I should have been for putting a very light charge in 'em and
standing a good way off when they were fired, but, seeing as they're
regular good brass guns and not a bit worn, all they want is a good
cleaning up, and then they'll be fit to do their work like--like--well,
sir, like guns.  What do you say, corporal?"

"I say they're a fine and sound pair o' guns, sergeant, as'll do their
work.  We should like a night's rest first, but in the morning my two
lads and me will give 'em a good scour up, and you won't know 'em
again."

"Right!  If the captain says yes, you shall; but I want to be with you--
I'm armourer here."

"Oh, of course, sergeant," said the trooper.  "Don't you think we want
to take your place."

"I don't, my lad," said the old soldier, warmly; "and I'm only too glad
to have three comrades out of the reg'lars to stand by me and help me to
lick the recruits into shape."

"Thank ye, sergeant," said the man.  "We four can soon do that.  They're
the right stuff, and only want a bit o' training."  Then, turning and
saluting Roy respectfully, he went on: "Sir Granby give us all a
talking-to, sir, and said he'd picked us out because we--I mean
t'others--was the handiest fellows he knew in the regiment, and he hoped
we'd do our best to get things in a good state of defence.  And, of
course, sir, we shall."

The great, manly fellow spoke with a simple modesty that made Ben's eyes
sparkle, and he nodded his head and remained silent when the man had
ended, but gave vent to his satisfaction by bringing his hand down
heavily upon the trooper's shoulder.

"We'll see to the other guns now then," said Roy.

"Yes, sir," said Ben, promptly.  "Forward there to the sou'-east tower."

The three men marched off at once in the direction pointed out, and Ben
stopped back for a moment or two to whisper to Roy, in a quick, vexed
manner--

"Don't go on saying we'll do this next, or we'll do that next, sir, as
if you was asking a favour of us.  You're captain and castellan, as they
calls him.  You're governor and everything, and you've got to order us
to do things sharp, short, and strong."

"But I don't want to bully you all, Ben," cried Roy.

"Nobody wants you to, sir.  You can't be bullying a man when you're
ordering him sharply to do what's right.  Of course, if you ask us in
your civil way to do a thing, we shall do it, but it aren't correct."

"I'll try differently, Ben."

"Sergeant, sir!"

"Ser-_geant_," said Roy.  "But it's all so new yet, I can't quite
realise it.  And, of course, I'm so young to be ordering big men about."

"You've the right to do it, sir, and that's everything.  Now, just
suppose the enemy was in front playing up ruination and destruction, and
your father was going to charge 'em with his regiment of tough dragoons,
do you think he'd say, `Now, my men, I want you to--or I'd like you to
attack those rapscallions yonder'?  Not he.  He'd just say a word to the
trumpeter, there'd be a note or two blown, and away we'd go at a walk;
another blast, and we should trot; then another, and away we should be
at 'em like a whirlwind, and scatter 'em like leaves.  You must learn to
order us, sir, sharply.  Mind, sir, it's _must_!"

"Very well," said Roy.

"Don't you be afraid, sir; let us have your order sharp, whatever it is,
and we'll do it."

"Then don't stand chattering there, sir!" cried Roy, fiercely.  "Can't
you see those three men are waiting for you at the bottom of the tower?
Forward!"

"Ck!"

It was an unspeakable ejaculation which came from the old soldier's
throat as he turned sharply and marched off to the men, chuckling to
himself and shaking his shoulders as he went.

"He'll do," he muttered; and then aloud, "Up with you, my lads!"

Ben followed the men, and Roy came last, and, as he entered the
door-way, he thought of the journey down to the powder-magazine, and
felt a little shame at his nervousness.

Then up and up past the two floors and on towards the roof.  As he
reached the door-way leading out on to the battlements, he stood in the
gloomy interior, and looked along the roof of the untenanted portion
towards the north-west tower, wondering what Master Pawson was doing.

He was not left in doubt, for he could just see the secretary standing
back from one of the narrow windows scanning the tower he was in,
evidently having seen them enter, and watching to see what they were
about to do.

A bit of boyishness entered into Roy just then, brought about by the
business he was upon and the work he had been engaged in.

"I should like to startle him," he said to himself, as he gave his
mischievous thought play.  "One might load and train one of the guns,
and fire the blank charge aimed just over his head.  It would startle
him."

The thought passed away directly, and he went up to the roof, where the
four men were together upon the platform examining the two guns facing
the embrasures.

These were not quite so big as the two standing now beneath the
gate-way, but, for the date, they were of a pretty good size, and having
the wood-work of the mounting in excellent condition.

"Well, how do they look?"  Roy asked.

"Better than I thought, sir.  They'll do.  Only want a good cleaning.
If you think a charge or two ought to be fired, sir, as was talked
about, shall it be with one of these?"

"If--yes; fire them both," said Roy; and then he felt astonished at the
fact that what he had imagined in mischief was really to be carried out.

"Next order, sir?" said Ben, gazing in his captain's face.

"See to the other guns on the north-east and south-west towers."

"Yes, sir.  What's to be done with the two as was slung down when Master
Pawson's rooms was furnished?"

"Sling them up again," cried Roy, promptly.  "It is necessary now."

Ben gave his leg a slap and looked his satisfaction.

"Wouldn't like the two big guns hoisted over the gate-way, sir, I
s'pose?"

"No, certainly not," cried Roy; "they will be of more value to sweep the
approach of the castle.  I'll have them kept there.  Plenty of room to
fire on each side of the drawbridge if it's up, and the muzzles would
run through the square openings in the portcullis."

Old Ben stared at him round eyed, and shook his head; then he chuckled
softly, and, muttering to himself his former words, "He'll do," he led
the men to the south-west tower, upon whose platform three brass guns
were mounted, and then to the north-east, where there were three more.

Twelve guns in all for the defence of the castle; but the question was,
would the ammunition be of any use?  Balls there were in abundance, for,
in addition to piles standing pyramidally at the foot of each tower,
half-covered now by flowers and shrubs, there were similar piles close
to the carriage of each gun.  But the vital force of the gun, the energy
that should set the ball whizzing through the air, was the question, and
to prove this, Ben asked for an order, and then walked with his young
captain to the armoury, where he opened the great closet.  One of the
kegs was brought out and set down upon the broad oak table.

"I've been thinking, sir, that perhaps it would be best to fire the big
guns under the gate-way to-night."

"Why?" asked Roy.

"Because we know their carriages are right, and I'm a bit doubtful about
those upon the tower."

"Very well; try the powder in those."

"Yes, I hope I shall," said Ben; "but I'm a bit scared, sir."

"What! about the danger of opening the keg?"

"Tchah! no, sir.  I can open that safely enough.  It only means
loosening the two hoops at the end, and then the heading will slip out.
I mean this--the barrels have been down there no one knows how long, and
what I want to know is, will it be powder after all?"

"Not powder after all!" cried Roy in astonishment, as his active mind
began to question what liquor it could be there that was stored up so
carefully as if it were a treasure indeed.

"I'm afraid it won't be, sir--very much afraid."

"Then what do you think it is?"

"Solid blocks o' stony stuff, sir, I should say."

"But they don't put stony stuff in kegs like these."

"No, sir, powder; but perhaps it has got damp with time and hardened so
as it won't be of any use."

"Not if it's dried and ground up again."

"Don't know, sir; can't say; but we'll soon see."  There was no
hesitation shown.  Ben tapped the two top hoops a little, and they soon
grew loose and were worked up the staves; the top one withdrawn, and the
next brought up into its place, having the wooden disc which formed the
head free to be lifted out.

"I thought so, sir," said Ben with a sigh, as he looked in.  "Just solid
black, and nothing else."

He thumped the top of the contents with his knuckles, and then tapping
the lower hoops they glided down and the staves fell apart, leaving a
black block standing upon the table.

"Oh, this is bad luck, sir! horribly bad luck!" groaned Ben.  "We shall
have to get some powder from somewhere, Plymouth or--yes, Bristol's the
most likely place."

"Fetch out the other keg, and open that, Ben," said Roy.  "To be sure,
sir," said Ben, and he turned to the closet and bore the second keg to
the table.  "If this is all right," he went on, "there's some hope for
us, because we may find some more; but if it has gone bad from both
sides it's all over with us: we can only stand well on the towers and
throw stones down at whoever comes."

Ben's fingers were as busy as his tongue, and in a few minutes he had
the head out of the second keg, looked in, and tapped it with his
knuckles.

"Just the same, sir, just the same."

"Look here, Ben!  I'll have one of these blocks chopped up, and then
ground up fine, and we'll try it with a musket."

"Good, sir! that's the right thing to do; but after being wet once, I'm
afraid it'll fizz off now like a firework."

"You don't know till you've tried, man.  Now, let's see: get an axe,
sergeant."

"If I might ask your pardon, captain, axes aren't the proper thing to
break up a block of gunpowder.  I should say a beetle or a mall was the
thing."

"Well, get a mallet, then," said Roy; and the old man went to his tools
used for repairing the armour, carpentering, or any other odd jobs, and
brought out a mallet, with which he was about to strike a tremendous
blow in the middle of the block, when Roy checked him.

"No, no!" he cried; "give it to me.  I'll knock a piece off the top
edge."

Ben handed the mallet respectfully enough, but he shook his head as if
he did not consider that handling mallets was correct for the castellan
of the place; while raising the implement not without some shade of
doubt as to whether an explosion might follow the blow, but reassuring
himself as he remembered that the mallet was only wood, Roy brought it
down on the top with a sharp rap, and then started back in dismay, for a
piece like a fragment of black potsherd fell upon the table with a bang,
and a stream of fine grains came flowing out of the great hole he had
made, covering the hardened piece and running on like black sand.

"Hurrah!" shouted Ben, excitedly; "they're all right, sir.  Just formed
a cake outside, and the inside's all safe and good.  Twelve good brass
guns, and plenty of powder.  We're ready for all the enemies the king
has got in this part of the world.  Now we'll see for a couple of
cartridges for the guns."

He fetched a couple of small bags, which he filled with the powder, and
then, after putting back the unbroken keg-shaped block, as carefully
cleared all the loose powder from the table, and placed that and the
shape from which it had come in the oak closet, which he locked.

"Powder's powder, sir; so one has to take care," he said.  "Now for a
touch port-fire, and we'll try what sort of stuff it is."

Ben gave Roy a knowing look, and then from a drawer in the table he took
a piece of prepared oakum such as was used for lowering into the pan of
a freshly primed gun, stepped to a case in which were some old rammers,
and declared himself ready to start, but hesitated and went to his
tool-drawer again, out of which he routed a long thin spike.

"Now I think we're ready, sir," he said, and they went out to where the
men were waiting, and prepared to load the two guns under the gate
tower.

"These are only makeshifts," said Ben, apologetically, as he indicated
his rough cartridges; "but they'll do to clear out the guns," and he set
them down in the door-way leading into the old guard-room.

Then the long thin pin was tried in the touch-holes of both guns, and
after a good deal of poking and drilling the orifices were cleared.
Meanwhile, one of the troopers took the rammer Ben had brought out,
inserted it at the muzzle, and found that it would only go in half-way.
So a ragged stick was fetched, run in, twisted round and round, and
withdrawn, dragging after it a wad of horsehair, cotton, hay, and
feathers, while a succession of trials brought out more and more, the
twisting round having a cleansing effect upon the bore of the gun as
well.

"Ah!" said Ben, solemnly, "them tomtits have had the guns all to
themselves for a fine time.  I shall have to make some tompions to keep
them out."

Quite a heap of nest-building material was drawn out of the two guns,
the first obtained being evidently of that season, while farther in it
was old and decayed to a mere mouldy powder that might have been carried
in by the industrious little birds a score of years before.

At last all was declared clear.  The bags of powder were thrust in, a
wad of the cleanest hay from the heap followed, and one of the troopers
rammed the charges home, with the result that the powder rose well in
the touch-holes, and nothing remained to be done but to insert the
lightly twisted pieces of touch-string and apply a light.

"Better way than doing it with a red-hot poker, as some of us might like
to stand back till the guns are proved," said the old soldier, grimly.
"One of you take that there to the kitchen and get a light," he said,
"to do for a port-fire."

He handed a piece of the prepared oakum to one of the men, who ran off
with it, and directly after Roy stepped back quickly and hurried into
the house.

Ben said nothing, but he glanced after the boy with a fierce look,
pursing up his lips, and then muttering to himself, his expression
indicating the most profound disgust.

Meanwhile, Roy ran into the private apartments of the castle, and made
his way to the library; but Lady Royland was not there.

Uttering an ejaculation full of impatience, the boy hurried into the
withdrawing-room, where he had better fortune, for he found his mother
waiting there as if she expected him.

"You, my dear?" she said.  "I was waiting here to see Master Pawson; he
sent me a message to ask if I would see him on matters of importance.
Do you know what he wishes to say?"

"Well, I almost think I do, mother," replied the boy.

"Then you have come to meet him?"

"No," said the boy; "I didn't know he had sent.  I came to warn you not
to be alarmed, for we are just going to fire."

_Boom_!

A report like thunder made the casements rattle as if they were being
dashed in.  This was followed by an echoing roar, and then came a
yelling cry as of some one in agony.

"Oh, my boy, what has happened?" cried Lady Royland, starting from her
chair, clapping her hands to her ears, and then sinking back palpitating
in the nearest chair.  "Run and see; something terrible must have
occurred."

Roy had already dashed to the door, and he ran out and along to the
great gate-way, where his mother's words seemed to be verified, for, on
reaching the spot where the gun which had been fired had run back a
short distance, there was the knot of men half hidden by the smoke that
was slowly rising, and in front of them, just below the portcullis, lay,
apparently lifeless, the figure of Master Pawson, face downward upon the
flags.

"What have you done, Ben?" cried the boy.

"Done?  I never done it," growled the man, fiercely.  "You runned away;
so I put the light to the gun myself, and then we all stood and waited,
till all at wunst Master Pawson comes round the corner like.  I dunno
how he come there; and off goes the gun and down goes he."

Roy was already upon one knee, turning the secretary over on his back
and examining him for the terrible injury he felt must have been
received.  But as Roy was proceeding to open his collar, he opened his
eyes, sprang up into a sitting position, and then began to abuse the boy
fiercely.

"You did it on purpose," he cried; "and it's a mercy it did not kill
me."

"Then you are not killed?" said Roy, dryly.

"No; but I might have been.  It was a cowardly thing to do."

"Ay, it were, Master Roy!" whispered Ben, turning upon him.  "I thought
you'd ha' had heart enough to ha' stood by us."

"What do you mean?" cried Roy, rising angrily.

"Oh, you know, sir; sets such a bad example to the men."

"I don't understand you; nor you neither, Master Pawson."

"It's disgraceful; and Lady Royland shall put a stop to such monkey
tricks."

"Powder-monkey tricks," growled Ben.

"Why, you don't think I fired that gun on purpose, sir?"

"No, I don't think so," cried Master Pawson, in his high-pitched,
scolding tone; "I am quite sure, sir; and it is disgraceful."

"But I wasn't here!"

"You were there.  I saw you with the men, pretending to clean the gun,
while I was yonder watching the sunset and waiting for an answer to a
message I had sent in to your mother, sir, when, as you saw me come
round the corner, you fired."

"I did not, sir; for I was not there."

"Ay, that's true enough, sir," said Ben, bitterly; "he warn't here."

"I don't believe it," cried Master Pawson, angrily, and his voice
sounded like that of some angry woman.  "It was a trick; and all this
nonsense shall be put a stop to."

"You can believe it or not, sir," said Roy, growing calmer as the
secretary waxed more angry.

"I shall speak to Lady Royland at once."

"Do, sir.  She is waiting to see you; she was telling me so when the gun
went off."

"Gun went off!  And what business has a gun to go off here in this
place?" cried the secretary, as he stood, now feeling himself all over
and brushing the dust from off his velvet coat.

"Only got the wind of the gun, sir," said the corporal, quietly.

"I was not speaking to you, my good man," cried the secretary.

"Bad plan to stand nigh the muzzle of a big gun when she's going to be
fired," growled Ben, in a sententious voice, and the secretary turned
upon him sharply.

"And you, sir," he cried; "how dare you let a boy play such antics?  Do
you know I heard the shot go by my face."

"Nay, sir; that I'll say you didn't," growled Ben.

"But I say I did, sir, with a fierce rush."

"One of the tomtits' eggs, perhaps, sergeant," said Roy, dryly.  "I know
I caught sight of one or two when the nest was rammed in."

The men all burst out laughing, and Master Pawson grew preternaturally
calm.

"Was that meant as an insult, Master Roy?" he said, turning towards him
and speaking slowly, with his eyes half shut and an unpleasant, sneering
smile upon his lips.

"No, sir; as a joke," replied Roy, gravely.

"I thank you; but keep your jokes for the servants; try them upon the
menials.  Recollect that I am a gentleman, placed in authority over you
by Sir Granby Royland as tutor and master, and, as I am in authority
over you, I am in authority over all here.  Have the goodness to
recollect that."

He turned upon his heel and walked away, with the back of his doublet
covered with scraps of hay from the tomtits' nest, and Roy's first
inclination was to run after him to begin brushing him down.

"But he'll only think I want to insult him again," said the boy to
himself.  "I wish I hadn't said anything about the tomtits' eggs,
though."

"Shall I run after him, sir, and ask if I shall give him a brush down?"
whispered Ben.

"No; let him find it out.  One of the maids will tell him, I dare say."

"But you should ha' stopped by us when the gun was fired, Master Roy,"
protested Ben.  "I see them three chaps wink at each other, as much as
to say, `He won't stand fire,' and it hurt me, sir, and seemed to be
undoing all I did afore.  I didn't think it of you."

"I should like to kick you for thinking me such a coward," cried Roy,
fiercely, for his encounter with the secretary had set his temper on
edge.  "How dare you!  You had no business to fire till I came back.  I
did not want my mother to hear the report without some warning.--Here,
corporal, give me that light."

The man stepped up with it, and Roy took it out of his hand.

"Going to fire this one, sir?" said Ben, eagerly.

"Of course.  Stand aside!"  And Roy applied the sparkling port-fire to
the bit of prepared oakum standing out of the touch-hole, with the
result that it, too, began to sparkle and fume.

"There," he said; "I hope Master Pawson won't come back and be
frightened by this one."

He had hardly uttered the words when the secretary reappeared.

"Where are all the servants?" he cried, angrily.  "I want some one to
come and brush my clothes."

"Stand aside!" shouted Ben.  "She'll run right back."

But the secretary did not understand what was meant, and turned
haughtily upon the speaker, totally unconscious of the fact that he was
exactly behind the breech of the piece, whose recoil might have produced
fatal results.

It was no time for uttering warnings, and Roy knew it.  He glanced once
at the tiny sparkling going on at the touch-hole of the gun, and sprang
right at the secretary, driving him backward and falling heavily with
him to the ground.

It was none too soon, for the gun went off with a tremendous roar,
leaping up from the paving and running back on its low wheels right over
the spot where the secretary had just stood.

"Guns is guns, and always was," said Ben, very grimly; "and them as has
to do with 'em wants to know all their little ways.  I have know'd a
man's arm took off by the recoil, and, if you don't take care, their
breeches is as dangerous to them as fires 'em as is their muzzles."

"Hurt, sir?" cried Roy, offering his hand after gaining his own feet,
ready to help the tutor to rise.

Master Pawson made no reply, neither did he take the extended hand, but
rose and walked away limping, going right down through the pleasaunce so
as to reach his own room without having to pass through the corridor.

"Bit rusty, I s'pose, sir," said Ben, quietly.

"I am afraid so, Ben," was the reply.  "But I don't think there's much
doubt about the powder."

"Doubt, sir; why, it's stronger than they makes now, or else it has got
riper and better for keeping.  We're all right there."

"Yes, capital! but that report rings in my ears still."

"Ay, sir, a brass gun can ring as well as roar; but you won't mind it
after a few times."

"I don't feel to mind it now," said Roy, coolly.

"Not you, sir," whispered the old fellow.  "And I beg your pardon,
Master Roy, and you've done me, and yourself too, a lot of good.  It
would ha' been horrid for the men to think you was scared.  I never
thought of frightening my lady with the row.  Tell the lads to sponge
the guns out with a bit o' rag, and then we'll run 'em back to their
places again."

Roy gave the order, and then had the sentry changed at the gate, after
which there was another duty to have performed,--that of raising the
drawbridge.

"No fear of any one forgetting and walking into the moat at night, is
there, Ben?"

"Well, no, sir; I think not," said the old soldier, seriously.  "You
see, the bridge shuts up all the middle when it's raised, and that makes
it sure, while at those sides nobody could tumble in without trying to;
so I don't see no fear of that.  Shall we haul her up, sir?"

"Yes."  And giving the order, as soon as the guns were in place, he led
the way up into the furnace-chamber, where two men seized each chain,
and the ponderous structure slowly rose as the huge weights descended
the stone-work tubes in which they hung, the difficulty of hoisting the
bridge proving to be much lighter than at the former trial.

"Come, sir, that's safe.  You won't set sentries to-night?"

"No, of course not," said Roy; "that will be unnecessary till there is
news of some enemy being near."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE COMING OF RECRUITS.

The next morning the carpenter was there with the capstan bars soon
after the bridge was lowered; and upon these being tried, after the
capstans and pulleys had been well greased, the portcullis was lowered
and raised several times with the greatest facility, each time becoming
more easy to move, while old Ben's eyes glistened, and he worked as if
all these preparations for the defence of the place, with the possible
shedding of blood and loss of life, had suddenly added a delightful zest
to his existence.

But he was not alone in this, for Roy found a strange exhilaration in
his new position.  There was something so novel in everything, and try
how he would, it was hard to keep down a feeling of vanity, especially
when he came upon his mother busily preparing a scarf for him to wear.

"For me?" he said.  "Oh, mother! it's too fine."

"Not at all," she said, quietly.  "Your men will like to see their
leader look striking."

"Ah, well," he replied, "I can't wear it while there is so much dirty
work to do."

"That will be done by the men.  Roy, my boy, you must rise to your
position, and give orders more for things to be done."

"That's what old Ben says, and I am trying; but it's hard work while
everything is so new, and--"

"And what?"

"It seems as if Master--Oh, no; it's too paltry to be talked about."

"Tell me what it is, and I will be the judge."

"Well, you know how poor Master Pawson was upset with the firing?"

"Yes; and he ought to be very grateful to you for saving his life.  Has
he not thanked you?"

"No; unless looking sneeringly at everything I do is thanking me.  That
makes it seem so hard to put on a showy thing like that.  He'll only
laugh at it."

"Master Pawson is not behaving well," said Lady Royland, coldly.  "He
actually had the impertinence to speak to me last night about the
preparations, and objected to the men being taken from their work."

"Said it was absurd?"

"Yes; those were his words, Roy, and I was compelled to silence him.  He
told me he was sure that if Sir Granby knew how utterly unlikely it was
for any of the disaffected people to come into this neighbourhood he
would immediately cancel the orders, and, under the circumstances, he
could not refrain from advising me to act according to his advice."

"And what was his advice, mother?"

"To put a stop to the foolish preparations, which could only bring
ridicule upon all here."

"He said something of the kind to me; more than I told you."

"Why did you not tell me all?"

"Because it seemed so paltry."

"Nothing is too paltry when we have so much at stake, Roy."

"And was that the end of it?"

"No, my boy; he made me indignant by his presumption, and I told him to
remember who he was."

"What did he say to that?"

"Begged my pardon humbly, and said that perhaps I was right, and that he
would do everything he could to help me in this painful situation.  I am
glad he has spoken out and forced me to be plain.  Now he will keep his
place."

"Yes, he will now," said Roy.  "I know what he felt; of course he was
annoyed at my taking the lead, after his going out leaving me only his
pupil, and coming back to find me seeming to do exactly as I pleased.
But I must go, mother, for there is such a lot to do.  Don't ask me to
begin wearing silk and gold and feathers yet, though, please."

Lady Royland smiled proudly as she kissed her son, and Roy hurried back
to his lieutenant, who was anxiously expecting him.

"Farmer Raynes has come over, sir, to see you.  Wanted to know what the
guns were fired for."

"Where is he?"

"Yonder, sir, watching the corporal drill the men."

Roy went to the gate-way, where the trooper was busy at work drilling
the men in the use of their firelocks, adding to his verbal instructions
the examples of the two soldiers who came with him, these falling in
just in front, and executing every order in the carriage of the piece,
loading and firing, so that the servants could more easily understand.

"Morning, Master Roy," said the farmer, stepping out of the guard-room
door-way.  "Heard the guns last night, and couldn't make out where the
noise come from.  Found out this morning, though, and run over.  Mean
fighting, then, if they come here?"

"Certainly," said Roy.  "My father sent word for us to be prepared.  I
was going to send for you this morning.  I want your men and you to come
in, and be ready in case you are wanted."

"Parson Meldew came and had a long talk with me day before yesterday,
sir, and he told me that whatever I did I was to stay peacefully at
home, mind my crops, and not interfere at all.  But if I did, I was not
to side with the king."

"He dared to tell you that?" cried Roy.

"Not quite in those words, sir, but he meant it."

"Oh, if he wasn't a clerk, I'd say something," cried Roy; "but what did
you say?"

"Nothing, sir; I only laughed."

"And do you mean to stay at home and do what he told you?"

"Of course, sir, unless there's some fighting comes on, and then I
suppose we shall have to begin."

"Against the king?"

"I'm going to fight for my good old landlord, Master Roy, the best man I
know.  He always stood my friend in hard times, and if he sends word I
am to, why, here I be with ten stout fellows, only you'll have to drill
us all, same as you're doing with these here, unless pitchforks and
flails will do; we can handle them."

"Shake hands, Master Raynes," cried Roy; "I want you and the men to come
and drill every day in the mornings, and I want you to bring us in as
much wheat, oats, and flour as we can store up.  You must buy when you
have not plenty, for we must be ready in case we are attacked."

"What do you say to me going round and buying up all the ham and bacon
and salt pork I can get, sir?"

"Yes, certainly," cried Roy.  "My mother will supply the money."

"Oh, that's all right enough, sir," said the farmer.  "But of course you
don't want us to come and live in the place until there's real trouble."

"Certainly not.  Give half your time to getting ready for troubles, and
the other half to the farm."

"I see, sir.  Ah, morning, Master Pawson.  Wild times these."

"Terrible, Master Raynes, terrible," said the secretary, coming up.
"Are you going to be drilled too?"

Roy glanced sharply round, but the secretary spoke earnestly, and with
no suggestion of a sneer.

"Yes, sir, me and my men must come and support my landlord, spite of all
that Parson Meldew may say."

"Does he object?"

"Yes, sir; and pretty strongly, too.  If I was him, I don't think I
should say quite so much, for he may be hearing of it again."

"But I hope all we hear is but exaggerated rumour, Master Raynes, for
everybody's sake.  If it were half so bad as you all say, I don't know
what would happen."

"Ah well, sir, nothing shall happen here if me and my lads can prevent
it.  There, I won't waste time.  The lads shall be over here in a couple
of hours, Master Roy, and I'll be getting off to market."

The farmer went away, and Roy felt comparatively happy with his tutor,
for Master Pawson seemed to have put aside the petty feeling of
annoyance, and to wish to let the trouble over the firing be quite
forgotten, so careful was he about avoiding any allusion to the guns.

"I can't help," he said, smiling; "only to look on.  I was never meant
for a fighting man.  What a change, though, you seem to be producing,
Roy."

This was sufficient to make Roy, with his natural boyish frankness,
begin talking freely about his plans, for he was growing enthusiastic,
and he even began to ask the secretary's opinion about two or three
minor matters.

"Oh, don't ask me," said his companion, laughing, and with an air of
protest; "you might just as well expect me to begin wearing armour.  No.
You must do all the defending if trouble does come, and I beg you will
give particular orders to your men-at-arms to take the greatest care of
the secretary, for you must not have him hurt.  I suppose, then, that
there will be no more studies for the present?"

"No, not for the present," said Roy, rather importantly; "I have so much
to do."

"Very well, man o' war; the man o' peace will go back to his music and
his books, but if you want me to do anything that I can do, send for me
at once."

Master Pawson put his hands behind him and walked thoughtfully through
the garden towards the door-way leading to the ramparts, and from thence
to the north-west tower, by the green grass and flowers seeming to him a
more attractive way than through the long corridor and past the occupied
rooms; while Roy made for the armoury, which seemed to be his study now.
Ben was there, busy, and he looked up and nodded.  "Master Pawson's
soon settled down then, sir?" he said.

"Oh, yes, Ben; he's good-tempered enough now."

"Good job for him, sir.  Can't have quarrelling in a garrison.  I began
to think he was going to mutiny outright, and if he'd shown his teeth
any more, I suppose I should have had to remind him that there were some
deep, dark dungeons underground as a first dose, and the stone gallows
up at the far corner of the ramparts for the very worst cases."

"But do you think that stone bar thing was ever used for executing
people?"

"Sure of it, sir; and there's the opening underneath leading down to
that square patch beneath the walls."

"But it may have been to hoist food or other things up during a siege."

"Ah, it may have been, sir," said Ben, grimly; "but I don't quite see
why they should have chosen to make it just over the bit of a patch of
ground between the walls and the moat where you couldn't get the forage
to without a boat, and when there were a gate-way and bridge.  'Sides,
too, why should they pick the old burying-place of the castle?"

"But that was not the old burying-place, surely, Ben?"

"You ask Dick Grey, gardener, what he found when her ladyship wanted the
ivy planted there to cover that bit o' wall.  It was full of 'em."

Roy shuddered.

"That's so, sir.  I expect in the old fighting days they used to bury
'em there; and as it's just under that there gallows, why, of course, it
was used for traitors or spies as well.  That reminds me, sir, as a lot
of that ivy ought to be cut away.  We don't want any one to make a
ladder of it for getting into the place."

"Leave it for the present.  It could be torn down in an hour if there
was any need."

"Ay, sir, that's the way you take it over such things.  That there
garden ought to be turned into a drilling-ground; you know it ought."

"If there does come any need for it, the garden can go," said Roy, "but
not until the very last."

"That's right, sir.  Only, if we're besieged, it will have to go.  Now,
let me see--that makes nine buff coats, and one more's ten, for Farmer
Raynes's lot.  Ought to give the farmer something a bit smarter,
oughtn't I, as he'll expect to be a sergeant, won't he?"

"He'll like to be over his men."

"But, you see, he's a big one, and there's a buff coat would suit him
exact.  I'll tell you what, sir, if he has the same as the others, and a
scarf, and a feather in his cap, he'll be satisfied."

"I should say so, Ben."

"Then scarf and feather it shall be, sir.  I'll have all their arms and
things ready for to-night; then they can have 'em in the morning when
they come, and it'll put all them straw-whopping fellows in a good
temper, and make 'em easy to drill.  I want to pick out so many fellows
for the big guns that we must have some more in soon.  But it's better
to go gently.  Saves a lot of confusion."

"What's the next thing to do, Ben?"

"Everything, sir.  Powder-bags to fill.  Stores to get in.  We must have
a new flag.  Place cleared out for garrison quarters.  Something done to
the two old guard-rooms on each side of the gate.  We've months of work
to do, sir, try how we may, but we're going to do it, Master Roy, and--
Oh," continued the old fellow, pausing for a few moments in his task of
taking down belts and swords to lay one on each buff coat below the
steel caps just set out ready, "there's that other thing I wanted to
talk to you about."

"What other thing, Ben?"

"I was up atop of the great tower this morning."

"I know.  I saw you there."

"I was looking at the furnace and thinking that must be touched up a
bit, and a good supply of wood and charcoal carried to it.  There is
plenty of lead at the foot of the north-east tower."

"Ugh!  We don't want to do any of those barbarous things, Ben; they're
too horrible.  Fancy pouring molten lead down on people's heads."

"We don't want to pour no molten lead down on people's heads, sir,"
protested the old soldier.  "All we says to 'em is, we've got a whole
lot of hot silver soup up here, and we shall pour it down on you if you
come hanging about our place, and trying to get in.  Let 'em stop away,
and then they won't be hurt."

"But it's too horrible, Ben.  I will not have that got ready."

"Very well, sir.  I don't know that it much matters, for they've got to
cross the moat first, and I don't think we'll let 'em do that.  The only
way the enemy will get in here will be through traitors in the camp."

"And we shall not have any of them, Ben."

"Hope not, sir."

"So if we are to fight, let it be in a fair, manly, chivalrous way."

"Yes, sir, and hang all spies and traitors."

"Don't let's imagine that such people are possible," said Roy.  "But was
that what you wanted to talk about, sergeant?"

"No, captain, it wasn't.  I got thinking this morning, as I was looking
round for weak points in our defences, that there's the old tale about
that there underground passage; the little chapel on the hill made me
think of it first."

"But do you believe it's possible, Ben?"

"Not knowing, sir, can't say.  But I tell you what I do say: there's
nothing like taking care.  Don't do to leave a hole in a sand-bag if
it's ever so small.  So as soon as we've got a little more ship-shape
and our garrison beginning to grow, let's you and me get a lantern some
night, and have a good look to see if there is such a rat's hole."

"Of course; yes."

"Keep it quiet, sir, except to her ladyship.  There may be such a place,
for in the good old times there were a great many curious doings, and it
would be a fine one to have a way in and out when the enemy thought
they'd got people shut up closely, and was going to starve 'em out; and
them able to bring in more men, and sacks of corn, and pigs and ducks
and geese and chickens, and laughing at the enemy all the time."

"We must see, Ben; and I want you, as soon as the farmer's party are
settling down, to go and try about more men."

"I say, sir, aren't it strange as none of the gentry hasn't been over?"

"Too soon, perhaps, Ben."

"Perhaps so, sir; but I can't help fancying everybody about here don't
think quite the same as we do."

"Not on the king's side?  Oh, nonsense!"

"Hope it is, sir," said the old fellow, thoughtfully inspecting and
drawing one of the swords; "but there, we shall see.  Bad for some of
'em if they are agen us, or I'm much mistook."



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

MASTER PAWSON SHOWS HIS COLOURS.

As the time glided on, no further communication arrived from Sir Granby,
and Lady Royland and her son began to realise more and more that they
were shut off in a part of England where the king's friends were few and
far between, while those who remained true felt themselves so
outnumbered by their neighbours that they dared not display their
principles.

Letters had been sent round by Lady Royland to several of the gentry
residing at different places, asking for help if it were needed, and at
the same time offering the castle as a sanctuary and rallying-point.

One answer which was received will suffice to show the general feeling
of the district.

The letter was brought in while Lady Royland and her son were seated at
breakfast, and the servant-maid stated that it had been left with old
Jenkin, at the gate, by a messenger the old man did not know, but who
said that there was no reply needed.

A letter was sufficient to throw Roy's mother into a state of agitation,
eager as she was for news from her lord, and she eagerly tore it open,
read it with a sigh, and passed it on to her son.

Roy took it as eagerly and began reading it aloud.

It was very brief, and was written in a peculiar hand that was not
familiar.

"Take counsel with yourself as to what you are doing.  A great change is
coming over the country, for the king's cause is undoubtedly lost.  Many
who respect the old family of Royland, and would help if they dared,
feel that it is unwise to fly in the face of the new power, and to go in
opposition to the people, who in all directions are declaring against
the king.  All who respect Dame Royland join in advising her to cease
the show of resistance she is making, and to settle down quietly, ready
to accept the fresh position, for resistance must mean destruction.
Pause before it is too late.--From an old friend."

"Well," said Lady Royland, as her son read the letter through twice,
"what do you think of that, Roy?"

"That the man who wrote it must be a coward."

"It explains why we have not had more offers of help, my boy.  I have
felt for days past that there must be something very wrong.  We are, it
seems, becoming isolated in an enemy's country, and so as to secure our
safety, I am advised to lay down my arms, and turn over my allegiance to
the new government, whatever it may be.  That is what the letter
advises."

"Yes, but who wrote it?" cried Roy.

"It is evidently written by one person acting for others, and explains
why my letters to gentlemen who I should have thought would have been
ready to help me have remained unanswered."

"Then we are to have no more help?"

"None, save that which we have secured from the village, and of course
from the tenants on our estate.  What do you think, Roy?  If I resist,
we shall, from our weakness, in all probability be beaten, and the new
government will confiscate your father's property here; while, if we
settle down to an ignoble peace--"

"They'll perhaps seize upon the estate all the same."

"Then you would resist, my boy?" said Lady Royland, watching her son's
face closely.

"Resist, mother?" he cried, indignantly; "why, of course.  After what
father said, it is our duty to shut ourselves up here, hoist the king's
flag, and show the cowards who sent that letter that we're going to
fight as long as there's a tower left in the old place."

"Then you would advise me to go against everything that is said in that
letter?"

"Pah!" cried the boy, with a look of disgust.  "I wonder you can ask me
such a question, mother."

Roy had risen from the table, and with his face scarlet was walking up
and down the room.

"I asked you because I wanted to see what your real feelings were, my
boy," said Lady Royland, going to him to lay her hands on his shoulder
and look proudly in his face.  "Roy, my boy, if I followed the advice of
that contemptible time-serving letter, I should feel that I was proving
false to the brave men who have gathered round us at my call, to my
husband, and my king; lastly, my boy, to you.  Give up?  You know how I
shuddered at the thought of war; how it was my prayer that you should
not follow your father's career; but when duty called, Roy, I cast all
my fears behind, and stood forward ready to do or die.  No, Roy! not
while we have a shot left to fire, a strong hand to raise!  Let those
who will seek for safety in this base submission to the rebel powers: we
will show them that a woman and a boy can be faithful to the end.  That
for the letter and its cowardly advice," she cried, tearing it
disdainfully to pieces.  "We have but one thought here, Roy, and the old
walls shall echo it as long as the stones will stand--God save the
king!"

Roy leaped upon one of the chairs, drew his sword and waved it round his
head, roaring out, with all his might, "God save the king!"  And
directly after there was a hurried step at the door, which was thrown
open, and the electric excitement in the lad's breast was discharged as
if he had received a touch from a rod.

For the maid-servant appeared, looked at him in astonishment, and said,
"Did you call, Master Roy?"

The boy got down, and sheathed his sword, babbling out something, and
his mother smilingly said--

"No; you were not called."

"I beg pardon, my lady," said the woman, and she retired.

"Oh, I say, mother!" faltered Roy; "how stupid I must have seemed!"

"I did not think so," said Lady Royland, smiling.

"But it looked as if I were acting."

"Go on acting so, then, my son," said his mother, proudly; "we need not
study what people think."

"Here's Master Pawson," whispered Roy, quickly.  "Go back to your chair,
mother."

Roy went to his own, and Lady Royland slowly followed his example, as
the secretary, after passing the window, entered the room.

"I beg pardon," he said, "for being so late.  Good-morning, Lady
Royland; good-morning, Roy.  I slept so dreadfully soundly."

"You need not apologise, Master Pawson," said the lady, gravely; and she
noted that his quick eyes had rested upon the fragments of the torn-up
letter scattered about the room, where she had tossed them
contemptuously.  "You are looking at the letter I received this
morning."

"A letter?" he cried, eagerly; "from Sir Granby?"

"No," said Lady Royland, with a sigh which she could not restrain; "it
is from close at hand--from some of our neighbours.  I wish I had kept
it for you to see."

"Not bad news, I hope," he said, looking pale.

"Yes; very bad news," said Lady Royland.  "I have been waiting for
days--it is right that you should know--hoping to get promises of help
from the different friends we have round, but till now the answer to my
appeal has been silence.  This morning they gave me their reason for not
replying."

"May I ask from whom you have heard?"

"I cannot tell you," said Lady Royland; "the letter is signed `a
friend,' and it advocates total surrender to the rebellious power of
which we hear so much."

"But you will not surrender, Lady Royland?"

"Surrender?  No!" cried Roy.  "Never!"

"That is right," said the secretary, flushing a little.

"No; I shall not surrender," said Lady Royland, firmly; "but as it means
that we are becoming isolated, and are doomed to stand alone, I feel it
my duty to speak plainly to you, Master Pawson."

He turned very pale again, and his eyes glanced restlessly from one to
the other.

"I hope--I trust," he faltered, "that I have not done anything more to
incur your displeasure, Lady Royland."

"No, Master Pawson, nothing; on the other hand, I have to thank you for
the brave way in which for some days past you have mastered your dislike
to the proceedings here, and helped my son to advance my objects."

"I--I have only tried to do my duty," he said, flushing again.

"Still, I cannot disguise from myself, Master Pawson, that dangers are
gathering around us fast, and that it is my duty to relieve you of a
position which must be growing intolerable."

"I--I do not understand your ladyship," he said, looking at her
wonderingly.

"Let me explain, then.  I feel that I have no right, Master Pawson, to
keep you here.  I think, then, that while there is the opportunity, and
before you are compromised in any way, you should sever your connection
here and go."

"Ah!  I see what your ladyship means now," he said, drawing a deep
breath as if of relief, and looking firmly in Roy's searching eyes.  "Go
away before any one of importance comes and makes a demand for the
surrender of the castle."

"That is what I do mean."

"Yes, exactly," said the secretary, thoughtfully; "and when the troubles
are over, and the king has chastised all these insolent people who have
risen against him, and, lastly, when I meet Sir Granby Royland, and he
asks me why I deserted his wife and son in their emergency, what can I
say?"

Lady Royland was silent for a few moments, and her eyes rested in a
softened manner upon the secretary's face.

"Say," she said at last, and her voice sounded a little husky, "that it
was my wish that you should go, for I did not desire that any one but I
should be compromised."

"Thank you, Lady Royland," said the secretary, quietly; and as he spoke,
Roy felt his dislike to the man increasing moment by moment up to a
certain point.  "And, of course," he said, "I must require money for
travelling and to make my way back to London."

"That you shall be properly supplied with, of course, Master Pawson."

"Thank you again, Lady Royland," he said, as he went on calmly with his
breakfast; "it is very good of you, and when I require it, I will ask."

"Better that it should be done at once, sir," Lady Royland said, firmly,
"and that you should go."

"And leave you and Master Roy here to your fate!"

"We can protect ourselves, sir."

"You must forgive me for being so slow over my breakfast, Master Roy,"
said the secretary, smiling in the lad's disgust-filled face.  "I see
you are impatient to go, but I am talking so much."

"Oh, eat a good breakfast," said Roy, now he was thus appealed to, "for
the last--"

"Oh, no! not by a great many," said Master Pawson, smiling.  "I like the
dear old castle far too well, and I hope to have many a long year of
happy days in it.  It is very good of you, Lady Royland; but I hope I
can do my duty to Sir Granby like a man.  You judge me by what I said at
the beginning of these preparations.  I thought then that I was right.
I did not believe we should be interfered with here; but I see now that
I was wrong, and I am ready to help you heart and soul.  Do you think I
could go away at a time like this?  Why, I should never forgive myself--
never.  It is impossible, Lady Royland; now isn't it, Roy?  I'm not a
fighting man; nature never meant me for anything but music and books,
but I'm not such a contemptible coward as all that.  When the enemy
comes and begins firing, I may be induced to go somewhere that I think
_is_ safe; but go away?  No, I could never hold up my head again."

"Master Pawson," cried Roy, excitedly, springing from his seat, "do you
mean this?"

"Mean it, Roy?" said the secretary.  "Why, of course.  I promised Sir
Granby to do my duty by his dame and his son, and according to the best
of my powers.  I'm going to do it, and--Well, that's a very nice raised
pie."

"Here, I want to beg your pardon, Master Pawson, for all kinds of
unpleasant thoughts about you," cried Roy, going round to the secretary
and holding out his hand, which the other took and held.

"Do you?" he said, laughing.  "Oh, no, there's no need.  Boys generally
quarrel mentally with their teachers just out of want of knowledge.  I
know.  You've called me old Pawson many a time--now, haven't you?--and
said I was fat and soft and stupid, eh?"

The lad did not answer, but looked scarlet.

"That's all right, Roy.  I'm old enough to understand a little about
human nature.  Don't you think I mind what a boy says or does in a fit
of spleen.  We shall understand one another better as time goes on."

Then turning to Lady Royland, who stood there flushed and with her eyes
humid, he said, with grave respect, "I thank you, madam.  It is only
what I should have expected from one of your good, considerate nature,
and I shall never forget it.--There, Roy," he said, "I am going back to
my room, and shall always be there when you want me.  I stay there
because I fear to be in the way, but I'll come and do anything you wish
if I can be useful.  But, please," he added, with a comical look of
appeal, "don't ask me to buckle on a sword, to come and fight, nor yet
to fire guns.  I should be sure to shut my eyes when I pulled the
trigger, and waste the charge.  Good-morning; I'm sorry I was so late."

He made as if to go, but paused as Lady Royland took a step or two
forward and held out her hand, which he took and kissed respectfully.

"Thank you, Master Pawson," she said, with her voice low from emotion;
"you have made everything seem brighter to us than it has looked for
days.  I feel now that the world is not so cowardly and cruel as this
letter makes out that it was.  I thank you.  Sir Granby shall know of
your noble conduct, and--"

"No, no! please don't say any more now," cried the secretary, hurriedly;
and he hastened to quit the room.

"I am glad," cried Roy, as the door was closed.

"Glad!" exclaimed Lady Royland; "and I am sorry, Roy, that we should
have been so ready to misjudge."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

BEN MARTLET PROPOSES A SEARCH.

The coming in of Farmer Raynes and his ten men had a capital effect upon
the people round.  It was an example which soon bore fruit.  After the
first two or three attendances at the castle, they marched there
together, with the farmer by them, in thorough military fashion, and
were followed by the people from the village, who would have gladly come
across the moat had not the gate been clanged-to by the sentry of the
day on duty, and then they had to content themselves with standing
gazing across at the drilling and martial exercises which went on.  The
firing of the big guns--for all were tried in turn so as to see that
they were serviceable--was a grand portion of the entertainment, and, in
spite of secret adverse influences at work, the tenants on the estate
soon began to present themselves for enrolment in the little body, eager
to a man to don the castle uniform and bear arms; while the fact that
the officer in command was a mere boy sent the lads of the neighbourhood
half-mad.  In fact, day after day they came in pairs to offer themselves
for enlistment, but only to go disappointed away; those who showed the
most surprise at the refusal to accept their services being the very
young.

"Why, bless my heart!"  Farmer Raynes would say, with his broad, deep
chuckle, "it would be like putting a 'stinguisher on a rush-light to
stick a steel cap on some of those boys' heads.  You'd be putting them
out, Ben Martlet."

"Ay," said the old fellow, showing his teeth; "but a few would be useful
to go down the guns with a brush to clean them out.  But there, I'm not
going to laugh at the boys.  Shows a good sperrit, Master Raynes, that I
wish more of the older folk would follow."

"Ay, so do I," said the farmer, frowning; "but they're some of 'em
ashamed and some afraid.  Parson Meldew has a lot to do with it; and do
you know why?"

"Nay, not I; perhaps it's because her ladyship has been such a good
friend to him."

"Like enough.  That sort's always the worst.  He has such a poor living
that it's my belief he's glad of the chance of a change.  He thinks he
must be the better for it if it does come.  I never much liked him; old
parson was the man.  Why, if he'd been alive, he'd ha' been up here
every day talking to the lads, and encouraging them to get on as well as
they could to fight for church and state like good men and true.  But
you'll have six more here to-day, good strong fellows from Marlow Mill."

"Eh?  You don't mean that?"

"Oh, yes, I do," said the farmer.  "I was over there with the wagon last
night to get that load o' flour that I brought in this morning, and I
give them all a talking-to about how things are, and my lads showing up
so in their coats and steel caps.  It's of no use to bully 'em into
coming.  They want coaxing, not driving.  I hadn't been talking to 'em
long, 'fore they did exactly what I wanted, asking questions, and I
answered 'em so that they wanted to know about sword-play, and loading
and firing the big guns; and then they wanted to know whether there were
buff coats and steel caps for all as liked to come and drill.  When I
told 'em there was, lo and behold! they all found out that they wanted
to do a bit of soldiering, and they'll be over soon."

Farmer Raynes was quite right, for soon after, six sturdy young fellows
came slouching up in a sheepish way to stand watching the drilling with
open mouths, laughing and nudging one another as they recognised old
acquaintances, and were apparently ready to joke and sneer.  That passed
off, however, in a few minutes, as they saw the goodly figure cut by the
farmer's men, and Raynes himself, no longer in the rough, flour-soiled
attire, as they had seen him when fetching the meal-bags over-night, but
a fine, bluff, gallant-looking fellow now, in buff coat, breastplate,
headpiece, and glittering steel cap which flashed in the sunshine as he
marched half a dozen armed men into the gate-way, then through the
guard-room and up to the ramparts, along which they were seen to have to
go through a certain amount of practice with the big guns.

Within an hour the martial ardour that was glowing in the would-be
recruits' breasts was red-hot, and they asked leave to pass over the
bridge.

The sentry shook his head, but sent a messenger across to state the
men's business, and they stood waiting, doubly impressed now, till the
man returned with the order that they were to wait.  This they did till,
a few minutes later, sharp words of command were heard in the gate-way;
and then, closely followed by Roy, gallant in bearing and in his Italian
half-armour, gold and white scarf, gauntlets, and feathered felt hat,
Sergeant Martlet came with the three troopers at a smart, elastic march
across the drawbridge, which rattled and quivered to their tread, till
they reached the outer gate, where, at the word of command, they were
halted, and stood at attention.

Roy was on his mettle; his eyes glistening at the sight of the six
awkward-looking fellows, knowing as he did what a change a few days in
the hands of Ben and the troopers would effect; but he was growing
strong enough now to begin adopting the policy of making it a favour to
admit men to his chosen band.  So he ruffled up like a young game-cock,
to stand there glittering in the bright sunshine, with one gauntleted
hand resting upon his hip, the other pressing down the hilt of his long
sword.

"Want to see me, my lads?" he said.

There was a general whispering among the men as to who should speak, and
at last one of them was shouldered forward with, "Go on, Sam; you say
it."

Sam, the most sheepish of all, being thus thrust into prominence, wiped
his mouth with the back of his hand, took off his hat, made an awkward
bow, and thus delivered himself, with a smile:

"Morning, sir.  You know me, Master Roy?"

"Eh?  Oh, yes; Sam Donny, from the mill.  What is it, my lad?"

"Only, sir, as me and my mates want to come and take sarvice here to
fight for the king."

"Eh?  You?  Well, I don't know, my lad; we only want good men and true
here, who will learn their duty, and do it."

"Oh, that's just what we are, sir," said the man, smoothing down his
hair; "not one on us as'd go to sleep o' nights when the wind's
blowing."

"Ah, but I don't want fellows to grind corn.  I want men who will be
ready to fight,--yes, and like men."

"Well, sir, ask all on 'em.  I can fight, and lick any of the lot here.
Oh, I can fight, and so can they."

"Hum--ha," said Roy, marching slowly round them, while the men drew
themselves up and seemed to grow a couple of inches taller each under
the inspection of the young captain.  "What do you think, sergeant?" he
continued; "think you can make artillerymen of 'em?"

Ben saluted, and took a few steps forward to march up and down the
party, slapping their chests, feeling their arms, and pounding them
heavily.

"Got some bone and muscle in 'em, sir," he said, respectfully, as his
report.  "Might try if they mean it."

"Take them across then to the armoury, measure them, and their names can
be enrolled."

The men drew deep breaths of relief, and then grew nervous, for there
was a short command or two given, a couple of the troopers stepped to
their head, Ben and the corporal came up behind, and the little group of
sturdy fellows was marched across into the guard-room, and afterwards
into the armoury, to stand gaping at the weapons of war.

"Did I do that right?" said Roy, afterwards.

"Right, sir.  The very thing.  Those sort judge by what they see.  They
came to us half ready to laugh, but they soon saw how serious it all
was; and they'll go away back to the mill to-night, and I'll be bound to
say, Master Roy, if you followed 'em, you'd find they'd got a dozen
other fellows about 'em, talking to 'em and boasting and bragging about
how grand everything is, and showing 'em their uniforms and steel caps.
This has about done it.  You'll see we shall get as many men as we want
now."

"But I felt all the time as if I were acting," said Roy.

"What?  Look here, Master Roy, don't you go and say such a thing as that
again.  You weren't acting, and so I tell you; only doing your duty to
your king and country, and your father and mother into the bargain.  You
can't do fighting without a bit of show along with it to brighten it up.
You ask a man whether he'd like to wear a feather in his cap, and a bit
o' scarlet and gold on his back, he'll laugh at you and say that such
things are only for women.  But don't you believe him, my lad; he won't
own it, but he likes it all the same."

Ben was right.  For the next week men from the village and the
surrounding farms came up to the castle looking very serious and
important, to be enrolled for its defence; and at the end of a fortnight
there were fifty defenders, of whom fully forty looked as if they could
be depended upon, while the rest would serve to make a show.

Meanwhile, Farmer Raynes attended the drilling and gun practice every
morning with his men, the whole gathering rapidly picking up the
rudiments of the military art under their four good teachers; while at
noon all, save about a fourth, went back to their peaceful vocations,
but ready at the arranged-for signal of two guns fired from the castle
to hurry back, every man to his post, to stay in garrison continuously,
instead of doing so one day in four.

Farmer Raynes devoted the rest of his time to going round and gathering
stores,--provender and forage of every kind that would be necessary,--
and his wagons seemed to be always coming or going across the
drawbridge; while vaults and chambers in the castle which had remained
unused for generations were now packed as store-rooms and granaries.

"Never mind the farm, Master Roy," said the bluff fellow, one day; "it
isn't quite going backward."

"But the crops?" said Master Pawson, anxiously, for he was present.

"Well, Master Pawson, they won't be so good as they should be, of
course, but they'll grow whether I'm there or no, and Sir Granby won't
mind.  He's a rich gentleman with a beautiful estate."

"Yes, yes," said Master Pawson; "it is a beautiful estate."

He looked quickly from the farmer to Roy, and back, as if he thought he
had said too much.

"Ay, sir, it is a fine estate, and he's a lucky man who holds it.  He
won't mind a few things going wrong, so long as we take care to save it
from some of the crop-eared rascals who'll be on the lookout to try and
take possession.  I'll be bound to say that there's some of 'em smelling
about already, and making up their minds to make a grab at it if the
king's crown goes down."

"Surely--surely not, Master Raynes," cried the secretary.

"That's what I think, sir.  There's them here wouldn't be above taking
possession of a pig, or a sack of my oats or barley; and there's bigger
rogues who like bigger things, and would give their ears to get Sir
Granby's fine estate.  You mark my words, Master Roy; you'll see."

Roy did mark those words, thinking deeply of them during the following
busy month, by which time the castle was in a fine state of defence, its
little garrison of twelve or fourteen men, who kept watch and ward in
regular military style, being relieved every day; while at the first bad
news of danger, Roy was ready to summon his whole force from farm and
mill, hoist the drawbridge, drop the portcullis, and with his stores of
provisions set any beleaguering force at defiance, whether large or
small.

"There, sir," said Ben one morning, "I begin to feel now as if I could
breathe.  There's a lot as wants doing yet, and I should dearly like to
do away with that garden as spoils the court-yard, so as I could have a
proper march round; but they won't come and catch us quite asleep."

"No, Ben; you've done splendidly.  It's wonderful to see what smart
fellows you have made of the men."

"Ay, and don't they know it too, sir?" said Ben, chuckling.  "See the
way they all marched past her ladyship this morning?  There wasn't a man
as didn't _feel_ as if he was twice as big as he was a month or two ago.
And see those big lads looking on?"

"Yes; there were forty or fifty across the moat."

"Ay, looking on as hungry as could be.  Look here, Master Roy, I'm
thinking a deal of getting say forty of 'em together--picked ones--as
soon as I've more time, and knocking them into shape."

"I think it would be wise, Ben.  They'd do well to work the guns."

"They would, sir; but we'll see.  Any more news?"

"No, Ben; only rumours."

"Master Pawson heard anything?"

"No, not for a long time past.  But look here, Ben, we have got the
place in good order now, yet nothing has been done to see if there is
any truth in the story about the secret passage leading into the old
chapel."

Ben gave his head a punch.

"No, sir; and yet I think of it every night just before I go off to
sleep.  It ought to be done, for it's of no use to keep polishing up a
pot that's got a big hole somewhere in the bottom."

"Of course it is not," said Roy.  "Look here; when will you begin to
search?"

"Let's hit while the iron's hot; sir, eh?  You and I will go round and
visit all the sentinels to-night, and then, as we shall have a lantern,
we'll begin."

"Where?"

"Down under the north-west tower, sir."

"And ask Master Pawson to go with us?"

"Nay, sir; we'll keep it all to ourselves."

"But he will hear us about the steps, and opening and shutting doors."

"But he mustn't, sir.  I'll oil all the locks and the keys I have, and
we must smuggle our light under a big cloak.  No, sir, we don't want
Master Pawson with us; let him study his chirurgery and sewing of cuts,
and stopping up bullet-holes.  That'll do for him.  This is a job for
the castellan and his head-sergeant, sir; and, if you'll take my advice,
that's the order for the night."

"Very well, Ben; that is the order for the night."

"One word, sir.  How is my lady getting on with the flag?  That old one
is so tender like, I'm afraid it'll blow to pieces first time it's
hoisted."

"Getting on splendidly."

"Big as the old one, sir?"

"Half as big again, Ben."

"That'll do, sir.  I believe in a big flag.  It gives the men courage,
and bullies the enemy.  Now I really do begin to feel as if I could
breathe."



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE PASSAGE THAT IS TOO SECRET.

"Going, Roy?" said Lady Royland to her son, as he rose from his seat in
the library that night about an hour after Master Pawson had gone to his
room, retiring early on the plea of a bad headache.

"Yes, mother; I'm going my rounds."

Lady Royland sighed.

"It seems very hard on you, my boy--all this work and watching."

"Oh, I don't mind," said the lad, smiling; "I've got used to it already.
It makes everything go so regularly, and I feel sure that I have done
everything to make the place safe."

"But it is hard upon the sentries, who, but for this, would be
peacefully sleeping in their beds."

"Do us all good, mother.  Good-night."

There was an affectionate embrace, and Roy went to his room, buckled on
his sword, put on his helmet, threw a large cloak over his shoulders,
and then went down to the guard-room door in the great lower gate-way,
to be challenged at once, and forced to give the word.

A faint light shone out from the open door upon the military figure on
duty, and Roy recognised in him one of the men from the mill, completely
transformed from the heavy plodding fellow who had come in to take
service.

But the challenge had brought out the old sergeant, also in a cloak,
although it was a hot night, and within it he swung a lighted lantern.

The drawbridge was up and the portcullis down, making the entrance look
black and strange, and shutting off the outer gate, from which the day
guard was withdrawn, though this had not been accomplished without
trouble and persuasion, for old Jenkin had protested.

"Like giving up the whole castle to the enemy, Master Roy," he said,
with a full sense of the importance of his little square tower, and
quite ignoring the fact that in the event of trouble he would be
entirely cut off from his fellows if the drawbridge was raised.

But the old man gave in.

"Sodger's dooty is to 'bey orders," he said; and with the full
understanding that he was to go back to his gate in the morning, he came
into the guard-room to sleep on a bench every night.

"How is old Jenk?" said Roy.

"Fast asleep in his reg'lar place," replied Ben, and he led the way back
into the gloomy stone guard-room, where he held up the lantern over the
venerable old fellow's face, and Roy looked at him thoughtfully.

"Seems hard to understand it, Master Roy, don't it?" said Ben; "but if
we lives, you and me'll grow to be as old as that.  I expect to find
some morning as he's gone off too fast ever to wake up again."

"Poor old fellow!" said Roy, laying his gloved band gently on the grey
head.  "How fond he always was of getting me to his room when I could
only just toddle, and taking me to the moat to throw bread to the carp."

"Fished you out one day, didn't he, Master Roy!"

"To be sure, yes; I had almost forgotten that.  I had escaped from the
nurse and tumbled in."

"Ah! he's been a fine old fellow," said Ben.  "I used to think he was a
great worry sticking out for doing this and doing that, when he wasn't a
bit of good and only in the way; but somehow, Master Roy, I began to
feel that some day I might be just as old and stupid and no more use,
and that made me fancy something else."

"What was that, Ben?" said Roy, for the old soldier had paused.

"Well, sir, I began to think that I was growing into a vain old fool
after all, or else I should have seen that old Jenk was perhaps of more
use here than I am.  Can't you see, Master Roy?"

"I can't see what you mean, Ben."

"Why, that old chap's about the finest sample of a reg'lar soldier that
these young fellows can have.  I believe if the enemy did come, that old
man would draw the sword that shakes in his weak old hand, and march
right away to meet 'em as bravely as the best here."

"I'm sure he would, Ben," said Roy, warmly.

"Then he's one of our best men still, sir.  Come on--I mean give the
order, sir, and let's go our rounds."

Then, in the silence of the dark night, Roy led the way to the winding
stair, and mounted silently to the ramparts, closely followed by Ben
with the blinded lantern, and on reaching the top, they walked on to the
left to the south-west tower; but before they could reach it a firm
voice challenged them from the top.  Then after giving the pass they
went on through the tower and out onto the western ramparts, turning now
to where the north-west tower loomed up all in darkness.

"Master Pawson's abed, sir," whispered Ben.

"Yes; not well," was the reply, in the same low tone.

But there was no challenge from here, and Roy walked silently in at the
arched door-way, passed the secretary's door, and mounted the stair to
severely admonish the sentry who was not keenly on the alert.

"Don't let him off easy, Master Roy," whispered Ben; "we might have been
an enemy, sir, for aught he could tell."

This was spoken with the sergeant's lips to his young master's ear, and
a few moments later Roy was at the top of the little turret, and stood
there in the door-way ready to pounce upon the man whom he expected to
find asleep.

But to his great satisfaction the sentry was well on the alert, for he
was kneeling at one of the crenelles, reaching out as far as he could,
and evidently watching something away to the north, while all was so
still and dark that the movement of a fish or water-rat in the deep moat
below sounded loud and strange.

Roy stepped out silently, crossed the narrow leads, and stood looking in
the same direction as the sentinel; but he could make out nothing, and
he was about to speak when the man, who had suddenly divined his
presence, sprang up and clapped his hand to his sword.

"Stand!" he cried, hoarsely.

Roy gave the word, and Ben stepped out of the door-way to his side.

"Why, sir, you quite scared me," faltered the man; "I didn't hear you
come."

"You should have heard," said Roy, sternly.  "What were you watching
there?"

"That's what I don't know, sir.  I see a light out yonder somewheres
about where them old stones is on the hill.  And then I thought I heard
talking, but that's quarter of an hour ago."

Both Roy and his companion had a good long look, but there was nothing
to see or hear; and after admonishing the man to keep an eye upon the
place, they descended and visited the sentries on the north-east and
south-east towers, to find them well upon the _qui vive_.

After this they descended, and Ben led the way to the armoury, where he
set the lantern on the table, took a spare candle from a box, and a
bunch of keys from a drawer.

"May mean nothing, Master Roy; but I don't understand what light there
could be up nigh the old chapel ruins, nor who could be talking there at
this time of night."

"Not likely to be anything wrong, Ben, because if they had been enemies,
they would not have shown a light."

"Signal perhaps, sir."

"Well, they wouldn't have talked aloud."

"Don't suppose they did, sir.  Sound runs in a still, dark night like
this.  Well, anyways it seems to me as it's quite time we had a good
look round to see if there's a hole anywhere in the bottom of the pot,
so if you're ready, so am I.  Only say the word."

"Forward!" cried Roy; and, going first with the lantern, Ben led the way
along the corridor to the head of a flight of stone steps, down which
they went to the underground passage, which with groined roof ran right
along all four sides of the castle.  The dark place seemed full of
whispering echoes, as they went on past door after door leading into
cellar and dungeon, all now turned into stores; for the great mass of
provender brought in by Farmer Raynes's wagons had here been carefully
packed away, the contents of each place being signified by a white,
neatly painted number, duly recorded in a book where the account of what
number so-and-so indicated was carefully written in Master Pawson's best
hand, since he had eagerly undertaken the duties of clerk.

At each corner of the castle basement, the passage expanded into a
circular crypt with a huge stone pillar, many feet in diameter, in the
middle, from which radiated massive arches to rest on eight smaller
pillars.  This radial series of arches supported one of the towers, and,
after passing the one to the north-east, Ben led on with his lantern
along the passage running to the tower at the north-west corner, the dim
light casting strange shadows behind, which seemed to be moving in
pursuit of the two silent figures, urged on by the whispering echoes of
their steps.

The pavement was smooth and perfectly dry, as were the massive stone
walls; and as they went on, Roy fell into a musing fit, and thought of
what a strongly built place Royland castle was, and how in times of
emergency, if a garrison were hard pressed and had to yield rampart and
tower to a powerful enemy, they would still have these passages and
crypts as a place of refuge from which, if a bold defence were made, it
would be impossible to dislodge them.

Apparently mind does influence mind under certain circumstances, for,
just as Roy had arrived at this point, Ben stopped short and turned.

"Look here, Master Roy," he said, "you ought, now we're getting in
pretty good order, to do two things."

"Yes; what are they?"

"Have that there stone gallows on the ramparts put a bit in order.  It
wants a few stones and some mortar."

"Why should I have that put in order?" said Roy, shortly.

"Case you want to hang any traitors, sir, for giving notice to the enemy
of what we're doing, or trying to open the gates to 'em."

"I shall never want to hang any traitors," said Roy, sternly.

"I don't s'pose you will, sir; but it's just as well to let people see
that you could if you wanted to.  Might keep us from having any."

"I will not let the garrison see that I could have any such mistrust of
the men who have come bravely up to help to protect my father's
property."

"Well, Master Roy, that sounds handsome, and I like the idea of it: it's
cheering-like to a man who tries to do his best.  But all people don't
think same as we do, and whenever we hear of a castle being attacked and
defended, there were always people outside trying to make traitors of
those who were in, and temptation's a nasty, cunning, 'sinuating sort of
a thing.  But you're castellan, and you ought to do as you please."

"I will, Ben, over that, at all events.  Fancy what my mother would
think if I were to be making preparations for such a horror."

"Hum! yes, sir.  What would she think?  That's a queer thing, Master
Roy, isn't it, what a deal mothers have to do with how a man does,
whether he's a boy or whether he's growed up?"

"Why, of course they have.  It is natural."

"Yes, sir; I suppose it is," said the old soldier, as he went on.  "You
wouldn't think it, perhaps, of such a rough 'un as me, and at my time o'
life, but I never quite get my old woman out of my head."

"I don't see how any one could ever forget his mother," said Roy,
flushing a little.

"He can't, sir," said Ben, sharply; "what she taught him and said always
sticks to the worst of us.  The pity of it is, that we get stoopid and
ashamed of it all--nay, not all, for it comes back, and does a lot of
good sometimes, and--pst!--pst!--if we talk so loud we shall be waking
Master Pawson.  But I say, Master Roy, it won't do, really.  Look at
that now!"

They were close to the circular crypt beneath the north-west tower, and
Ben was holding up his lantern towards the curve of the arches on his
left.

"Roots! coming through between the stones."

"Yes, sir, that's it.  Only the trees her ladyship had planted, and
that's the beginning of pulling this corner of the castle down.  There's
nothing like roots for that job.  Cannon-balls'll do it, and pretty
quickly too; but give a tree time, and it'll shake stone away from
stone, and let the water come in, and then the frost freezes it, and
soon it's all over with the strongest tower ever made.  Do 'ee now ask
her to have 'em cut down, and the roots burned."

"I'm not going to ask anything of the sort, Ben," said Roy, shortly.
"Now about this passage.  You think it must run somewhere from here."

"Yes, sir," replied the old soldier, as he stood now under one of the
arches of the crypt and raised his lantern to open a door.  "There, now
we can see a bit better.  If there is such a place, it starts, I
suppose, from somewhere here."

He walked slowly round the place, holding the lantern into the recesses,
eight of which appeared between the pillars surrounding that in the
centre.

"But there's plenty of room here for storing sacks or anything else, and
you can have doors made to those two that haven't got any, if you like."

Roy walked into one of these recesses--cellar-like places of horse-shoe
curve, going in a dozen feet, and then ending in a flat wall.

"Which way am I looking here, Ben?" said Roy.

"Out'ards, sir; you're standing about level with the bottom of the moat,
or pretty nigh thereabouts.  You're--yes--that's where you are, just at
the nor'-west corner, and the moat turns there."

"Then the places on each side here face the moat, one to the north, the
other to the west."

"Well, not exactly, sir, but nearly."

"Then the secret passage can't begin at the end of either of these, and
been built up."

"I dunno, sir.  Folk in the past as had to do with them passages did all
they could to make 'em cunning."

"But they couldn't have made a passage through the moat."

"Of course not, sir; it must have gone under it."

"Then it couldn't have started from here."

"Why not, sir?" said Ben, with a low laugh; "what's to prevent there
being another dungeon like this on the other side of the wall there, one
with a trap-door in it leading down ever so many steps into another
place, and the passage begin ten or twenty foot deeper."

"Something like the powder-magazine is made?"

"That's it, sir.  We're in the lower part of a big round tower, and we
know there's those floors above us one on top of the other, and we don't
know that the old Roylands who built this place mayn't have dug down and
down before they started it, and made one, two, or three floors below
where we stand."

"What?  Dug right down?  Impossible!"

"They dug down that time as deep into the old stone to make the big
well, sir."

"Of course; then it is possible."

"Possible, sir?  Oh yes; look at the secret passages there are in some
old walls, made just in the thickness, and doors leading into 'em just
where you wouldn't expect 'em to be.  Up a chimney, perhaps, or a side
of a window.  I heered tell of one as was quite a narrow door, just big
enough for a man to pass through, and you didn't walk into it, because
it wasn't upright; but you got into it by crawling through a square hole
with a thin stone door which fell back after you were through.  Then you
stood up, and could go half round the old house it was in."

"Well," said Roy, "if there is such a passage, we must find it; but if
it has been built up, we might have to pull half the place down."

"Yes, sir; but first of all, we'll have a good look in these cellars,
for it mayn't have been built up, and we may find it easily enough.
Begin then, and let's try."

Ben trimmed the candle with his forefinger and thumb, making the flame
brighter, and then holding the light close to the flat face of the wall,
they examined stone after stone; but as far as they could make out, they
had not been tampered with since the day the masons concluded their
task.

Then the curved walls right and left were examined quickly, as they were
little likely to contain a concealed opening; lastly, the flags on the
floor, and, finally, Ben drew his sword and softly tapped each in turn.

But not one gave forth a hollow sound.  Everything was solid, even the
walls at the back.

"Let's try the other open one, sir," said Ben, and they continued their
investigations in this place, which was precisely similar to the first,
and yielded the same results.

Then the keys of the great bunch Ben carried were tried on one
fast-closed door of oak, studded with square nails much corroded by
rust, but it was not until the last key had been thrust in that with a
harsh creaking the bolt of the ponderous lock shot back; and then it
required the united efforts of both to get the door to turn upon the
rusty hinges.

Here they were met by precisely the same appearances, and the search was
made, and ended by sounding with the sword pommel.

"No, sir; there's nothing here."

"I'm afraid not," said Roy; "everything sounds solid."

"Ay, sir, and solid it is."

"But if you tap so hard, Master Pawson will hear you," whispered Roy, as
the old soldier tried the floor again.

"Maybe not, sir; but if he do, he do.  Let's hope now he's fast asleep;
you see, he's three floors higher up."

"But knocking sounds travel a long distance, Ben, and I'd rather he did
not know."

"Me too, sir.  Well, this is only three.  Let's try the others."

"I hope you are not going to have so much work with the finding of the
key," said Roy; "it hinders us so."

"Plenty of time before morning, sir," replied Ben, coolly; and after
relocking the heavy low door, he tried the key he had just withdrawn
upon the next door, and, to the surprise of both, it yielded easily, and
was thrown open.

Again the same clean, swept-out place, with plenty of grey cobwebs; but
that was all.

Upon sounding the stones, however, at the back, they fancied that they
detected a suggestion of hollowness, still not enough to make Roy
determine to have the wall torn down.

This place was locked and the next tried, the only satisfactory part of
the business being that the key before used evidently opened all the
locks in the basement of this tower; and so it proved, as one after the
other the dungeons or cellars were tried with the same unsatisfactory
results, for none of the eight afforded the slightest trace of the clew
they sought.

At last, pretty well tired out and covered with cobwebs, they stood in
the crypt while Ben lit a fresh candle, the first having burned down
into the socket, with the wick swimming in molten fat, and Roy said,
with a yawn--

"I wonder whether there is a passage after all, or whether it is some
old woman's tale."

"Nay, sir, there is," said the old soldier, solemnly.  "Your father said
there was, and he must have known."

"Well, then, where is the door?" said Roy, peevishly.

"Ah! that's what we've got to find out, sir.  You're tired now, and no
wonder.  So let's try another night.  You're not going to give a thing
up because you didn't do it the first time."

"I hope not," said Roy, with another yawn; "but I am a bit tired now.  I
say, Ben, though, think it's in one of the places we've filled up with
stores?"

"I hope not, sir; that would be making too hard a job of it."

"Stop a moment," cried Roy, brightening up; "I have it."

"You know where it is, sir?" cried Ben, eagerly.

"Not this end," said Roy, laughing, "but the other."

"What, in the old ruins?  Of course."

"Well, why not go and find that, and then trace it down to here.  It
would be the easiest way."

"There is something in that, sir, certainly," said the old soldier,
thoughtfully; "ever been there, sir?"

"Once, blackberrying; but of course I never saw anything; only a rabbit
or two."

"Then if we can't find it here after a good try or two, sir, we'll have
a walk over there some evening, though I don't feel to like the idea of
leaving the place, specially as all the gentry seem so unfriendly.  Not
a soul, you see, has been to see her ladyship.  Looks bad, Master Roy,
and as if there was more going on than we know of round about us."

"Ah, well, never mind that," said Roy; "let's get back out of this
chilly, echoing place.  I'm fagged."

"We'll go back this way, sir," said Ben; and he went on first with the
lantern, till he came to one of the flights of stone steps leading up to
the ground level.

"Let's go on here, Ben," said Roy; and, upon their reaching the corridor
above, the boy looked back along it towards where the stairs went up
into the corner tower, beneath which they had been so busy.

"Wonder whether Master Pawson heard us, Ben."

"Can't say, sir.  I should fancy not, or he'd have been on the stir to
know what was the matter."

"Mightn't have cared to stir in the dark, Ben.  I say, I should like to
know.  Look here, he went off early to bed, because he said he was
unwell.  I'll go and ask how he is.  That's a good excuse for seeing."

"Well, so it is, sir," said Ben, rubbing his ear; "and if he did hear
anything, he'd be pretty sure to speak."

"Of course.  Then I will go.  Come and light me."  Roy hurried along
back with Ben following and casting the boy's shadow before him, till
they reached the arched door-way, where they went up the few stone steps
in the spiral staircase, reached the oaken door leading into the
apartments, felt for the latch, raised it, and gave it a loud click; but
the door did not yield to the boy's pressure, and he tried it again, and
then gave it a shake.  "Why, he has locked himself in, Ben!"

"Has he, sir?  Didn't want to be 'sturbed, maybe."

"Perhaps he was frightened by the noise we made, and then fastened
himself in," said Roy, with a laugh.

Ben chuckled at the idea.

"Well, sir, not the first time we've frightened him, eh?"

"Hush!  I want to let him know who it is now knocking," said Roy; "it is
startling to be woke up in the middle of the night.  Master Pawson--
Master Pawson!" he said, gently; and he tapped lightly with his fingers.

But there was no reply, and Roy tapped and called again, but still
without result.

"He's too fast asleep to hear you, sir."

"Well, he ought to bear that," said Roy, giving the door a good rattle,
and then tapping loudly.

"One would think so, sir; but he don't seem to have his ears very wide
open, or else he's too much scared to stir."

"Master Pawson!  Master Pawson!" cried Roy, loudly now; and he once more
rattled the door.  "How are you?"

"Fast as a church, sir," said Ben; "and I wouldn't rattle no more,
because you'll be having the sentry up atop after us.  Better go and
speak to him, or he'll be raising the guard."

Ben went up on the winding stair, and spoke to the sentry, who
challenged him as he reached the top, and was much relieved on hearing
his sergeant's voice.

"Didn't know what to make of it," he said; "and I should have fired,
only my piece wouldn't go off."

"Well, let this be a lesson to you, my lad, to keep your firelock in
order."

"Yes, sergeant; I will in future."

"We might have been the enemy coming.  See any more of that light, or
hear any more noise over yonder?"

"No, nothing."

"Not heard nothing from Master Pawson, I suppose?"

"Not since he came up and spoke to me before he went to bed.  Said his
head was queer or something--spoke mighty pleasant, and that he was
sorry for me who had to watch all night."

"Well?"

"That was all; only I said I was sorry for him having such a bad head."

Ben went down to where Roy was waiting in the secretary's door-way.

"Can't wake him, Ben.  Come along; I am tired now."

"Feel as if an hour's sleep wouldn't do me much harm, sir," said the old
soldier; and they went on along the corridor, whose windows looked out
upon the pleasaunce.  "Master Pawson's in the right of it.  Once a man's
well asleep, it's a woundy, tiresome thing to be wakened up.
Good-night, sir."

"Good-morning, you mean, Ben," said Roy, laughing.

"Oh, I calls it all night till the sun's up again, sir.  You and me'll
have to try the old ruins, I s'pose, though I don't expect we shall find
anything there."

Roy went straight to his room, half undressed, and threw himself upon
the bed, to begin dreaming directly that he had discovered the entrance
to the secret passage at the other end, but it was so blocked up with
stones and tree-roots that there was no way in, and would not be until
he had persuaded his mother to do away with the garden, cut down the
trees, and turn the place back into a regular court-yard such as old Ben
wished.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

FARMER RAYNES BRINGS NEWS.

It was the loud blast of a trumpet which roused Roy from his slumbers to
find that it was a gloriously clear morning, and that the call was
bringing the little garrison together for the early parade.

The trumpeter was the youngest of the three men from his father's
regiment, and consequently the call rang out in the true martial style,
echoing through the garden court, and sounding exhilarating to the boy
as he sprang off his bed and began to dress.

It roused the jackdaws, too, from their resting-places, and sent them
sailing about in the clear sunny air, their black forms reflected from
the moat, and their sharp, petulant cries sounding like protests against
this disturbance.

For they had had a hard time of it lately.  Under Ben's superintendence
every loop-hole had been cleared, every collection of nesting ruins
carefully removed, and they had no other married quarters but the holes
in the walls, half-shaded by the green pellitory which rooted and
flourished in company with the moss, that acted as sponges to retain
enough moisture for its sustenance.

Roy was not long in dressing, buckling on his sword, and hurrying down
to the tiny parade ground, for in his character of castellan he liked to
be present every morning when the men who were to relieve the garrison
assembled at the gate-way, across the moat, and waited for permission to
march in.

All this was rigorously carried out in true military style by the old
sergeant's management; and as Roy descended, it was to find the little
garrison drawn up fully armed under Ben's command, he and the three
troopers forming the regular staff who never left the castle.

Ben looked as fresh as if he had not made a night's rest out of two
hours on a form in the guard-room; and giving the word as Roy appeared,
there was the twinkling and glittering of headpiece and weapon as the
men presented arms, and then stood again at attention as it was carried
out some two hundred and fifty years ago.

Then a short inspection by the castellan followed, orders were given,
and four men marched to the door-way, tramped up the staircase, and a
few minutes later the ponderous drawbridge began to descend, till it
spanned the moat; and at a word the men fresh from their homes marched
across, to halt by the portcullis, which then began to rise slowly, the
capstans creaking and cracking, till the row of spikes alone was visible
as they hung like iron stalactites overhead.

Another sharp order rang out, and the new-comers filed into the
guard-room, from whence came the clashing of metal and the buzzing of
voices as the men assumed their arms and came out one by one to fall in
opposite to those whose places they were to take, and who would, in a
few minutes, go into the guard-room to deposit their arms in the racks,
and then be free till their short term of service recommenced, but of
course ready to hurry to the castle at the first summons should a
necessity arise.

Everything went on according to the regular routine; the fresh men were
all drawn up now, armed, the order given, and the relieved tramped into
the guard-room and soon began to straggle out again, eager to troop over
to a kind of buttery-hatch by the great kitchen, where a mug of milk and
a hunch of bread for a refresher would be waiting for distribution, by
Lady Royland's orders, for every man.

All this went on then as usual, and the old warder Jenkin had just come
tottering out of the guard-room, to go and take up his customary post at
the gate, the trumpeter had raised his instrument to his lips to blow a
blast, and the new-comers were ready to march off to their several
duties of mounting guard, drilling at the guns, and cleaning
accoutrements, when there was the sound of hoofs rapidly beating the
road across the moat, and directly after a figure, mounted upon a heavy
cart-horse, came into sight, thundering along at full gallop.  At the
first glimpse it seemed as if the horse had run away with his bareheaded
rider; but directly after it became plain that, though only riding
saddleless, and with no rein but a halter, the big man was urging the
horse forward with all his might.

"Why, it must mean news!" said Roy, excitedly, as he advanced towards
the drawbridge.

"Ay, there's something wrong, sir," said Ben, gravely.  "That we shall
soon hear."

The armed men stood fast on one side, and those disarmed in a group on
the other, waiting excitedly to see what this new thing meant.

"It's Farmer Raynes!" cried Roy.

"Ay, sir, that's who it be.  He was coming with a wainload of oats this
morning, and he wants help, for he has broken down, I should say."

The next minute the rider dashed up to the far gate, but did not draw
rein, for he sent his horse thundering across the drawbridge before he
checked the panting beast with a loud "_woho_!" and then threw himself
off.

"What's the matter, Master Raynes?" cried Roy.

"They're here, sir," whispered the bluff farmer, excitedly.  "I'd got a
wagon loaded with oats last night, and was taking 'em from Dendry Town
to the farm ready for bringing on here i' morning, when at a turn of the
lane I come upon a troop of horse who surrounded the wagon at once, and
a couple of 'em led me, whip and all, up to their officer, a
lank-looking, yellow-faced fellow, who was sitting on his horse just
under a tree.

"`Where are you taking that grain?' says he.

"`On the king's service,' says I.  `To Royland Castle.'

"His yellow wrinkly face grinned all over, and he turned and gave orders
to an officer by him; and then I knew I'd made a mistake.  For they were
all well-mounted, and in a regular trooper's uniform, and I thought I'd
happened upon one of the king's regiments, instead of which they were a
pack of Roundhead rabble; and I had to drive the team back with the oats
to their headquarters at Dendry Town.  There they made me open a sack to
feed their horses; and after that I was told I was a prisoner, and that
my wagon and team was taken for the use of the state."

"Dendry Town--ten miles away," said Roy, thoughtfully.

"Many on 'em?" said Ben, sourly.

"There was about fifty as took me," said the farmer; "and I should say
there were seven or eight hundred in the town swarming all over the
place."

"But how did you get away, Raynes?"

"Left it till this morning, sir, when I was feeding my horses, after
emptying a couple of sacks for theirs.  Waited till there was a chance,
and then I jumped on old Ball here, who can go like fun when he gets
warm, and galloped off.  They shot at me, and I heard the bullets
whistle, and then about a dozen came in pursuit, galloping after me till
we got within sight of the towers; and then they drew back, and here I
am.  I thought you ought to know somehow that the enemy was so near."

"Then they're not a mere rabble of men?"

"Not they, sir.  Reg'lar soldiers, and they've got big guns in the
market-place.  Quite a little army."

"Thank you, Raynes," said Roy, gravely.  "It was very good and brave of
you to bring the news like this.  Halt there, men.  Take your arms
again.  We shall perhaps have some work to do."  Then briefly giving his
orders, which had long enough before been arranged between him and Ben,
the latter led one little party to the south-west tower, and the
corporal took another to the north-west, while Roy himself mounted with
a party into the gate tower, where at his word of command the portcullis
dropped with a loud clang, and directly after the drawbridge began to
rise till it was back in the position it always occupied by night.

This part of the business of preparation for unwelcome visitors being
accomplished, Roy mounted to the leads, where he placed a sentry to keep
a good lookout, and then turned to see if his men were ready.

They stood in a group on each tower waiting, Ben and the corporal
swinging a port-fire from time to time to keep it well in a glow; and
then standing on the breastwork above the machicolations, Roy looked out
as far as he could see in search of enemies, where, however, all looked
beautiful and at peace.

But it could be no false alarm.  The time for action had come; and,
turning to the right, he waved his hands, turned to the left, and did
likewise; and directly after a puff of grey smoke darted out from the
top of each tower, followed by two rapidly succeeding peals like
thunder, which echoed through the castle, making the jackdaws fly out of
their resting-places to wheel round, crying vociferously.

"Now," said Roy to himself, "the staff is ready.  It's time to raise the
king's flag."

But the flag was still in Lady Royland's hands, and the boy descended to
cross to her private apartments and fetch it away.

But half-way across the pleasaunce he encountered Master Pawson, looking
wild-eyed, pale, and strange.

"What is the matter?" he cried.  "What is that firing for?"

"The enemy are near, Master Pawson," said Roy, quietly; "and I suppose
that before long they will pay us a visit."

"But the guns--why were the guns fired?"

"As a signal, of course, for our men to gather, and for such of the
village people as like to take refuge here.  I thought you knew."

"I?  No.  I did not know.  But the people will not come," said the
secretary, with undue excitement; and he now looked very pale indeed.

"It will be rather hard, though, if they do not, after all this drilling
and teaching."

"Oh! those men may," said the secretary, hastily.  "I meant the people
from the village."

"Well, we shall see," said Roy.

"But what makes you say that the enemy are near?" said the secretary,
giving him a searching look.

"The messenger who brought the news.  Farmer Raynes."

"Farmer Raynes?"

"Yes; he was taken and escaped."

At that moment Ben came up with a grim look of satisfaction upon his
countenance.

"Morning, sir," he said to the secretary.  "You see the enemy have found
us out.  Ready for them?"

"I?  What do you mean?"

"Ready to doctor some of us as gets our heads and legs knocked off by
cannon-balls.  I beg pardon, Master Roy, sir, her ladyship's
a-signalling to you yonder.  What does she say to the enemy coming?"

"My mother!" said Roy, excitedly, as he caught sight of her at one of
the corridor windows.  "I have not seen her yet."



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

ROYLAND CASTLE AFTER ITS GROWL.

Lady Royland received the news calmly enough, and was the first to
allude to the flag, which she said would be, though unfinished, suitable
enough to hoist whenever her son thought it right to do so.

"The sooner, then, the better, I should say, mother," cried Roy.  "Let
them see it waving when they come near."

"By all means, my boy.  I am glad to find that you have everything in so
good a state of preparation.  The guns startled me a little, but I
expected to hear them some time.  Do you think the men will prove true
and come in?"

"True, mother?  Yes, of course."

A few minutes later Roy came out with the silken flag hanging in folds
across his arm like a cloak, and hurried to where Ben and the three
troopers were busy loading the two guns, run out now into the gate-way
so as to command the road from each side of the raised bridge.

The men were all armed, and a look of excitement was in every face,
notably in that of Farmer Raynes, who was fidgeting about and looking
anxious.

Roy handed the flag to Ben, who took it proudly, and nodded his
satisfaction.

"You'll come up and be there at the hoisting, sir?" he said.

"Of course.  Yes--what is it?"

"Master Pawson, sir," whispered the old soldier, with a laugh; "we
managed to wake him up at last."

Roy smiled and went to where the farmer stood, watching him anxiously,
and finally making a sign to him to come.

"Want to speak to me, Master Raynes?" he said.

"Yes, sir; I'm in agonies about my men.  They'll be coming along soon
and falling into a trap, for some of those troopers will be hanging
about the road."

"Yes, this is serious," said Roy, who grasped the difficulties of the
reinforcements he hoped soon to receive.

Ben was called into counsel, and his suggestion was that the guns on the
four towers should be manned ready to cover the advance of the friends,
and keep back the enemy.

"Mounted men's orders are to keep clear of cannon-shot all they can,
sir; and now, if you please, I should like you to arm all the people
necessary, while I see to the ammunition."

This order was carried out, and the flag taken up into the
furnace-chamber, just below where the new flag-staff with halyard had
been erected against the staircase turret.

In a very short time all was ready, so far as so small a force was
available, and four men kept ready in the chamber prepared to lower the
bridge as soon as any friends approached, when it was to be kept down
till the coming of strangers rendered it necessary that it should be
raised again.

Ten minutes had not elapsed before a shout from the north-east tower was
heard, and Roy turned in the direction pointed out by one of the men, to
see a little party of four men who, in obedience to the signal, were
advancing at a trot from the direction of the village.

The bridge was lowered, the portcullis raised, and, as the men came
hurrying across, they were received with a hearty cheer from the tiny
garrison.

The bridge being down and the portcullis raised, the state of
preparation was deemed sufficient to warrant their remaining so, as no
enemy was in sight; but the precaution was taken of having the
port-fires ready and each gun in the gate-way manned so as to sweep the
approach.

Another shout announced fresh arrivals, men coming up in twos and
threes, every arrival sending a thrill of satisfaction through the young
castellan's breast as he felt his strength increase, till only two
parties were not accounted for,--six men from the mill and the ten from
the farm.

"A terrible loss they would be, Ben," said Roy, as he swept the country
from the highest point of the tower, and without effect.  "Raynes wants
to go in search of them."

"Then don't let him, sir.  We can't spare him.  Mightn't be able to come
back.  Wait a bit; they've all got some distance to come.  Give 'em
time."

"But they might have been here by now."

"Ay, they might, sir," said Ben, drily.

"Ha! you think they are afraid, now it comes to the pinch."

"Nay, sir, not yet.  They may have a good way round to go to 'scape the
enemy, for I dare say they're beginning to occupy the roads.  I'm most
anxious about the farm lads, for they're nighest to where the enemy
are.--Hi! there!  Look! look!"

Ben had turned his head in a different direction to that in which the
men from the mill might have been expected to come; and there,
altogether, running in a group, six figures could be seen evidently
making for the castle, while a party of a dozen horsemen suddenly rode
into sight from behind a copse about a quarter of a mile away, and
cantered across as if to head the men off.

"Now, sir, quick!  Tell 'em yonder to make ready and wait.  The
corporal's there, and he'll know what to do."

Roy shouted the orders to the south-west tower, and the trooper-corporal
answered loudly, and they saw him blow his port-fire.

"Now, sir, wait a bit, till they get nigher.  That's it.  Now, fire!"

The race had been growing exciting, for the horsemen were increasing
their pace as they came on with their weapons glittering in the sun, and
it was plain enough that the runners must be cut off and taken
prisoners, when just at the right moment Roy's order rang out.  There
was a white puff from the tower, a heavy boom, the ball went whistling
just over the heads of the horsemen, and a shout of triumphant derision
arose from the towers, as, moved by the same spirit, the little troop
wheeled round and went off at full gallop to get out of gunshot.

"Another shot, men!"

"Nay, sir, certainly not.  That's the young soldier speaking.  What for?
You might bowl over a horse or two, but what good would that do?
You've done what you wanted, and sent 'em to the right-about, saved six
of our lads, and at the same time showed those fellows that we're on the
lookout and don't mean to stand any nonsense.  That's enough for one
bullet, sir, eh?"

"Splendid! my lads," cried Roy, who leaned over the battlements, waving
his hand to the panting and nearly exhausted men from the mill, who came
at a steady trot now across the bridge, cheered loudly by all who could
see them.

Roy's next thought was to go and tell Lady Royland all about the
incident; but he felt that he must live up to his position, and be busy
there in sight of his men; so, after watching the enemy's horse till
quite out of sight, he bade Ben keep a sharp lookout, and descended to
hear the report of the party who had just come in.

He found them in the guard-room, scarlet with exertion, and still
panting from their long race, but evidently in high glee, Sam Donny,
their spokesman, the young man who was put first to the front when they
came to him, being full of their adventures,--how the troopers had
passed the mill three times that morning, and stopped twice to demand
corn for their steeds and water, their leader watching the miller's men
curiously as if suspicious of them.

"But they went off at last, sir.  Let's see: they come agen, though,
twice after we'd heard the guns, and that kep' us back.  Last of all, I
says to t'others, `Now for it, lads, or young Captin Roy'll be thinking
we're feared to come.'  They says, `That's so,' and off we starts; but
we hadn't gone far 'fore we finds they're on the road, and we had to run
back and make for Water Lane.  Hadn't gone far 'long Water Lane, when we
finds a couple of 'em there.  Back we goes again, and creeps along aside
one of the fields, and there they was again, and dozens of 'em on the
watch, as if some one had told 'em we was likely to come over here.
Then we all goes back to the mill and talks it over, and some on us says
as we'd better stop till night; but I says, `Nay!  They'll think we're
all cowards, and get shooting at us if we comes in the dark,' and at
last we said we'd go two miles round by the common.  And so we did, sir,
crawling on our stummicks in and out among the furze bushes, and every
now and then seeing the sun shine on one of their caps as they rode here
and there.

"Last of all, sir, they seemed to have gone away, and I lifts up my head
and looks about.  `All clear, mates!'  I says, and up we gets, keeping
as far off as we could, so as to work round.  `We've done 'em this
time,' I says, as we went on, and we was coming along splendid, till Bob
Herries happens to look back, and, `Run, lads,' he says; `here they come
arter us!'  I was for hiding, sir, but there was no chance, so we all
run our best, with the castle here seeming a long way off; but we got
nigher and nigher, and so did they; and they'd ha' cut us off if it
hadn't been for that gun--though we all thought the next shot might hit
us."

"You did bravely, my lads," cried Roy.  "But tell me, what about the men
from the farm?"

"What! aren't they here, sir?" said the man.

"No; we've seen nothing of them."

"Well, I am glad, then, that we aren't the last," said the man, with a
grin of satisfaction; but his face was serious directly.  "I don't quite
mean that, sir.  I mean I'm sorry they're not here.  Then some of those
fellows must have took them.  But what I want to know is, how could they
tell we was a-coming to the castle?"

"They must have noticed that you all had a military bearing, my lad.
You are all very different to what you were when you came to join."

A look of pride beamed in the man's face and was reflected in those of
his companions, but he spoke out directly.

"Well, we have tried to get to be soldiers, sir, hard; haven't us,
mates?"

"Ay!" was growled in chorus.

"Yes, you have done well," cried Roy, "and I'm heartily glad to see you
safely here."



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE YOUNG CASTELLAN SPEAKS OUT.

The day passed anxiously on, and it was getting well towards sunset, but
there was no sign of the farm men, neither did the enemy appear in
sight.  Farmer Raynes appealed to Roy again and again for permission to
go in search of his people; but, anxious as the young castellan was for
news, he could not risk losing one of the strongest and most dependable
men he had.

"They may get here yet, Master Raynes," he said; "and I'd give anything
to see them; but I'd rather lose the swords of all ten than lose yours."

"Mean that, Master Roy?" said the bluff farmer, looking at him
searchingly.

"Mean it?  Of course!"

"Thank ye, sir.  Then I'll stop; but I feel as if I'd failed you at a
pinch by only coming alone."

"Then don't think so again," said Roy, "but help me all you can with the
men, for I'm afraid we are going to have a hard fight to save the
place."

"Oh, we'll save it, sir.  Don't you fear about that," said Raynes; and
he went away to join Ben and talk about the chances of the party
reaching the castle.

In the guard-room the matter was also eagerly discussed; for the help of
ten sturdy lads was badly needed, as all knew.  Sam Donny, who was
rather inflated by the success which had attended him and his companions
that day, gave it as his opinion that the labourers had been taken
prisoners solely because they had not thought to go down and crawl as he
and his companions had that day.

Roy had hurriedly snatched a couple of meals, and tried to cheer his
mother about their prospects, but to his surprise, he found that she was
ready to try and console him about the loss of ten good strong men.

"But do you think they have thought better of it, and are afraid to come
in?" said Master Pawson at their hurried dinner.

"No, I do not," said Roy.  "I will not insult the poor fellows by
thinking they could be such curs."

"Quite right, Roy," said the secretary, eagerly.  "I was wrong.  I'm
afraid I understand books better than I do men.  Yes; they must have
been taken prisoners, I'm afraid."

The evening meal had just been commenced when there was a shout from one
of the towers.

Roy hurried out, full of hope that the ten men had been descried; but he
was soon undeceived, for on mounting to his favourite post of
observation it was to see that a long line of horseman was approaching
from the direction of Dendry Town, the orange sunlight making their arms
glitter as they came gently on, spreading out to a great length, till at
last Ben gave it as his opinion that there were at least five hundred
men.

Hardly had he come to this conclusion when another body of men was
descried approaching from the east, and in the face of this danger the
drawbridge was raised, the portcullis lowered, and a trumpet-call
summoned the men to the guns.

"They mean it then to-night, Ben," said Roy, whose heart now beat fast,
and he turned to the old soldier, who, with a grim look of pride in his
face, was affixing the silken flag to the rope, ready for hauling up
when the enemy drew near.

Before Ben could reply, to Roy's surprise, Lady Royland came up the
spiral stairs, and stepped out upon the leads, followed by Master
Pawson, who looked sallow of aspect, but perfectly calm.

"You here, mother?"

"Yes, my boy; and why should I not be?  I am visiting all the towers to
thank the men for their brave conduct in coming here for our defence.
How many do you muster now?"

"Thirty-six only," replied Roy.

"Well, thirty-six brave men are better than five hundred cowards.--How
many men do you think there are coming against us, Martlet?"

"Seven or eight hundred, my lady."

"And will they attack this evening?"

"No, my lady; they don't come to attack strongholds with mounted men.
They're coming to call upon us to throw open the gates and surrender the
place; and this is the answer, I think, my lady, is it not?" and he
pointed to the flag.

"Yes, Martlet," said Lady Royland, flushing; "that is our answer to such
an insolent demand."

She turned and left the tower, attended by Master Pawson, and Roy
remained there watching the long line of mounted men approaching with
their arms glittering in the light.  "Seven or eight hundred," he said,
half aloud, "against thirty-six."

"Haven't counted the guns, Master Roy, nor the moat, nor the towers, nor
all the other strong things we have.  Pah! what's a regiment of horse
against a place like this?  But they know, and they're only coming to
bully us, sir."

"I hope you are right, Ben," said the lad, seriously; and he waited for
the approach of the men till they were halted about a couple of hundred
yards away from the tower on which he stood, forming up in squadrons;
and after a time an officer, bearing a little white flag, advanced,
followed at a short distance by a couple of troopers.  Roy's heart beat
fast, for he felt that a crucial time had come.

"You'll have to go down, Master Roy; and we must lower the bridge for
you to go out and meet him and hear what he has to say."

"Must I, Ben?"

"Of course, sir; and, if you give the order, the corporal and I will
come behind you as your guard."

"And suppose, when the bridge is down, the others make a rush?"

"Flag o' truce, sir.  But if they did, our guns would sweep 'em away."

"And what about us, Ben?"

"Well, sir," said the old fellow, drily, "we should be swep' away too."

"I say, Ben!"

"Yes, sir, sounds nasty; but soldiers has to take their chance o' that
sort o' thing, and look at the honour and glory of it all.  Ready, sir?"

"Yes," said Roy, in a husky voice; and a minute later he stood with the
two martial-looking figures behind, and the drawbridge slowly descended
in front.  The two guns were manned, a small guard of three was behind
each, and the port-fires sparkled and shot tiny little flashes of fire
as if eager to burst out into flame.

Just then, as Roy was watching the heads of the three mounted men coming
slowly forward, and, as the end of the bridge sank, seeing their chests,
the horses' heads, and finally their legs come into sight, Ben leaned
towards him, and said, in a whisper--

"They don't know how young you are, sir.  Let 'em hear my dear old
colonel speaking with your lips."

"Yes," said Roy, huskily; "but what am I to say, Ben?"

"You don't want no telling, sir.  Advance now."

The officer had halted his men about fifty yards from the outer gate,
and rode forward a few paces before drawing rein and waiting for some
action on the part of those he had come to see; and he looked rather
surprised as they stepped forward now, crossed the bridge, and advanced
to meet him.  For he had not anticipated to find such careful
preparations, nor to see the personage who came to meet him in so
perfect a military trim, and supported by a couple of soldiers whose
bearing was regular to a degree.

The officer was a grim, stern, hard-looking, middle-aged man, and his
garb and breastplate were of the commonest and plainest description.  He
seemed to glance with something like contempt at the elegantly fluted
and embossed armour the boy was wearing, and, above all, at the gay sash
Lady Royland's loving hands had fastened across his breast.  But his
attention was keen as he scanned the soldierly bearing of Ben and the
corporal, and a feeling of envy filled his breast as he compared them
with his own rough following.  Perhaps he would not have thought so much
if he had seen the rest of the garrison, but they were too distant.

Roy saluted the officer, and drew a deep breath as he tried to string up
his nerves till they were stretched like a bow.  For Ben's words had
gone home, and he felt fully how big a part he had to play.

The officer saluted in response in a quick, abrupt manner, and said
shortly:

"I come from the general commanding the army here in the west, to demand
that you give up peaceable possession of this castle, once the property
of the rebel, Sir Granby Royland, who is now in arms against the
Parliament of England."

Roy gave a start at the word "rebel," and felt the hot blood rise to his
cheeks.  That insult acted like a spur.  The nervous trepidation had
gone, for there was no room for it alongside of the anger which flashed
through him.  Ben was right: the boy knew what to say.  It was there
ready, and only wanted bringing out.

"Look here, sir!" he cried, sharply; "you come here under a flag of
truce to deliver a message, but that does not warrant insolence."

"Insolence?" said the officer, sternly.

"Yes.  I hold no parley with a man who dares to call my father, King
Charles's faithful servant, a rebel."

"Then go back, boy, and send your mother to make the arrangement for
handing over the keys of the castle," said the officer, with a smile of
contempt, "for I suppose the Dame Royland is here."

"Lady Royland is here, sir; and I, her son, tell you to inform your
rebel general that we here recognise no authority but that of his
majesty the king, and that we consider it a piece of insolent
braggadocio for him to send such a demand."

"Indeed!" said the officer, laughing.  "Well crowed, young game-cock!"

"Yes," muttered Ben; "and you mind his spurs."

"Have you anything more to say?" cried Roy.

"Yes; a good deal, my boy, and I will not notice your young, hot-blooded
words.  You have allowed your men to perform an act this morning that
may mean serious consequences for you."

"I do not understand your meaning, sir."

"Yes, you do, boy," said the officer, sternly.  "You allowed your men to
fire upon a picket of our cavalry."

"Of course.  You allowed your cavalry, as you term them, to try and ride
down six unarmed men on their way to the castle, and I gave orders for
them to be stopped, and they were stopped."

"I have no time to argue these things with you, sir.  I have only this
to say: if you give up the keys to me at once, your people can disperse
unharmed to their homes, and Dame Royland and her son can depart with
such personal effects as she desires, to go wherever she pleases, and an
escort will be provided for her protection."

"And, if she declines this offer, sir, as my father's steward of his
estates and possessions?"

"Your father has neither estate nor possessions now, my boy; he is a
proclaimed rebel.  If this kindly offer is refused, and you are both so
weak and vain as to resist, the place will be battered down and left in
ruins, while the sufferings and slaughter of your people will be at your
door.  Now, sir, briefly, what message am I to take back to the
commanding officer?"

"God save the king!" cried Roy, warmly.

"That is no answer, sir--only the vain cry of an enthusiastic, misled
boy.  What am I to say to the general in chief?"

"That Lady Royland will hold Royland Castle in the king's name as long
as one stone stands upon another, and she has a brave following to
fight."

The officer raised his hand in salute, turned his horse and rode back,
while Roy stood there with his heart throbbing as he watched the three
figures depart, and wondered whether it was really he who had spoken, or
all this scene in the deepening evening were part of a feverish dream.

He was brought back to the present by the deep gruff voice of Ben.

"There, sir," he said, with a look of pride at the boy in whose training
he had had so large a share, "I knew you could."

At the same moment Roy glanced at the corporal, who smiled and saluted
him proudly.

"I only wish, sir," he said, "that the colonel had been here."

Roy turned to recross the bridge, feeling as if, in spite of all, this
was part of a dream, when something on high began to flutter over the
great gate tower, and glancing up, it was to see there in front, gazing
down at them as she leaned forward in one of the embrasures, Lady
Royland.

"What is it to be, Roy?" she cried, as he came closer.  "Peace or war?"

"War!" he replied, sternly; and the sound seemed to be whispered in many
tones through the great archway as the portcullis fell with its heavy
clang and the drawbridge began to rise.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

WAR TO THE KNIFE.

War to the knife without a doubt, for in the gathering gloom of the
evening, as Roy went up to the top of the north-west tower, followed by
Master Pawson, it was to see that mounted men were in a goodly body
making a complete circuit of the castle, roughly marking out a line
about half a mile in diameter, and at every hundred yards or so a couple
of troopers were halted, and retained their posts.

"Shutting us in, Master Pawson," said Roy, after watching the manoeuvre
for some time.

"Ah!" said the secretary, with a sigh; "they will patrol the country all
round now, and stop communications with the outside."

"Yes," said Roy, frowning; "and I suppose I must give up all hope of the
men from the farm getting in."

"Ah, yes! they are prisoners before this.  So your poor father is looked
upon as a rebel now."

"Stop, Master Pawson," said Roy, hotly; "these words must not be spoken
here."

"I only meant them as the opinion of the other party, who presume to say
the estate is confiscated."

"My father acknowledges no other party.  Confiscated!  Why, this place
has belonged to the Roylands from the days of the Plantagenets, Master
Pawson.  Let these people come and take it if they can."

"Ah, yes! that's brave and true, Roy, brave and true.  Then you do mean
to fight?"

"Yes, and you too," cried the boy.  "You want to save my father's
estate."

"Oh, yes, I want to save the estate," said the secretary, eagerly.

"Then do everything you can," cried Roy.  "Yes, they will soon have
formed a ring round the castle now!  Well, let them keep their distance,
for I shall give orders for the garrison to fire at any one who attempts
to approach."

"And how long do you hope to be able to hold out?"

"As long as it is necessary," said Roy, proudly; "till my father comes
with his men, and scatters all these people away."

"To be sure, yes," said the secretary.  "How proud he will be of you,
Roy, when he knows all."

Roy hurried down to join his lieutenant, whom he found humming a tune in
the armoury, busy over some preparations by the light of a lamp.

"You don't seem in very bad spirits, Ben," he said.  "Bad spirits!  What
about, sir?  Why, it's like the good old time when your father and I
were young.  Not so young as you, though!  Well, sir, we've been
thinking over our plans.  They won't do anything yet--only shut us in.
They're going to wait for more men and more artillery."

"But we must be well on the watch against surprise, Ben."

"Why, of course, sir!  You'll have your watch on the towers.  And you've
seen how they've got a ring of patrols round us?"

"Yes, I watched them.  So we may give up all hope of getting those ten
of Raynes's."

"I'm afraid so.  It's a bad job, sir, as the corporal was saying just
now, for we'd trained them into being our best gunners."

"A terrible loss."

"Well, not so very terrible, sir, because we must train up some more.
Oh! we can keep the enemy outside the moat and enjoy ourselves while
they're starving without a roof to cover them.  But I want to say a
serious thing or two, sir."

"I know, Ben; you want to say that my mother's garden must go."

"That's one thing, sir."

"Well, take what ground you want, and we'll put it straight when we've
sent the Parliament to the right-about."

"Oh, you'll make a good general, sir; and this trouble's a blessing in
disguise to save you from being wasted on books, and becoming a sort of
Master Pawson.  And that brings me to the other things."

"Well, what are those?"

"Just you tell me plain, as a soldier--which you are now--what you set
down as the strongest bits of the castle?"

"Why, the towers, of course!"

"That's right, sir.  Very well, then, they must be well manned."

"As well as we can man them."

"That's it, sir; and we must have elbow-room."

"Of course!"

"Then will you speak to my lady, and ask her to give Master Pawson a
couple of rooms in the private part somewhere, or one room ought to be
enough now, for I want those two chambers of his badly?"

"He won't like that, Ben," said Roy, quickly.

"I s'pose not, sir; and there'll be a lot of things none of us will
like, but we've got to put up with them.  If you'll see about that at
once, I shall be glad."

"Is it very necessary, Ben?"

"You know best about that, sir."

"Yes, it is very necessary, Ben," said Roy; and he hurried off to talk
the matter over with his mother, visiting the ramparts on his way.

He found Lady Royland busy writing, and she looked up with a smile.

"I am keeping a diary of all that has taken place since we began the
defence.  But tell me first--Raynes's men--are we to give them up?"

"I'm afraid so, mother.  They have not failed us, but have been taken
prisoners."

"This is a sad blow, Roy, but we must make up for it by working
together.--But what is it?  You have not come to chat about nothings."

"No, mother," said the boy, seriously.  "I have come to say that the
pleasaunce must go.  Ben Martlet says he cannot do without it now."

"I have been expecting this, my boy.  It has always been a dear delight
to me, but it is a pleasure for peace; and when the happy days come
back, I shall want the whole garrison to restore it to me again."

"Then I was right in telling Ben to take what he wanted?"

"Of course, my boy.--Something else?"

"Yes, mother--another bit of self-sacrifice.  Martlet and I both feel
that we must have the north-west tower.--Ah, Master Pawson, you there?"

"Yes.  I knocked twice, and I thought you said `Come in.'"

"Then you heard what I said just now."

"I heard you mention the western tower.  Have you been telling her
ladyship of what we saw this evening?"

"No.  What did you see?" cried Lady Royland, quickly.

"The enemy has completely surrounded us with sentinels."

"Ah! they would, of course."

"It was not that, Master Pawson--but this; I was about telling my mother
that, for the purposes of defence, Martlet and I feel that we must have
the north-west tower."

"But you have it; the guns are there."

"The top only," said Roy.  "The chambers below are required for the men
who work the guns, for ammunition, and other purposes."

Master Pawson looked at him in blank horror.

"My mother will see that you have comfortable rooms or a room somewhere
here.  I will give up mine to you if you like."

"Oh!  I could not take that," said the secretary, quickly.  "But surely
this is not necessary."

"Yes; it is absolutely necessary.  Besides, that tower will certainly be
battered by the enemy's guns, and it will not be safe for you."

"I wish you would not persist in looking upon me as such a coward, Roy;
it is not fair.  I was never meant for a soldier, but surely a man may
be a man of peace and yet not a coward."

"No, no; I do not look upon you as a coward," said Roy, hastily.  "It is
really because that will be a dangerous spot, and the rooms must be
strongly occupied."

"But, as I said, you have the guns at the top.  Really, I must protest;
I am so much attached to those little rooms.  Surely you can let me
stay.  I do not mind the firing.  I will not go near the windows."

"You do not grasp the fact that these angle towers are our greatest
protection," said Roy, firmly.  "I am sorry to give you all the trouble
and annoyance, but we must have the chambers below.  The one you use for
a sleeping-room is absolutely necessary for the powder."

"Indeed, Lady Royland, they could manage without," protested the
secretary, warmly.  "It would be a dreadful inconvenience to me to give
them up.  There are the books and my papers.  Oh, it is really
impossible."

"You forget, Master Pawson, that we all have to make sacrifices now, and
that we shall have to make more and greater ones yet, before this
unhappy trouble is at an end."

"Yes, yes, I know, Lady Royland, and I am ready to do anything to assist
you," cried the secretary, excitedly.

"Then give up your rooms like a man," said Roy, "and without making so
much fuss."

Master Pawson darted an angry look at the boy and then turned to his
mother.

"You know, Lady Royland, how I have thrown myself heart and soul into
the defence since I have found it necessary.  You bade me go, but I
would not.  Duty said stay, and I risked my life in doing so; but as a
favour, I beg that you will not let me be ousted from my two poor little
rooms to gratify the whim of a very obstinate old soldier, who would
turn your pleasaunce into a drill-ground."

"I have given up my garden because it is wanted, Master Pawson," said
Lady Royland, coldly.

"To gratify a good soldier, I know, but a man who would have everything
turned into a fighting place."

"It is not fair of you, sir," said Roy, speaking very firmly.  "This is
no whim on the part of Martlet.  Now that we are coming to using the
guns, the men must have a place of shelter beneath the platform, and one
where the powder may lie ready for handing up.  We must have your
sleeping-room."

"Take it then," cried the secretary.  "I give it up; but spare me my
little sitting-room."

"We want that too," said Roy.  "We may have wounded men."

"Then bring them in there, and I'll help to dress their wounds; but I
must keep that."

"Surely you can manage without depriving Master Pawson of that place,
Roy," said Lady Royland.

"Thank you, thank you, Lady Royland.--Yes, you hear that, Roy.  You
can--you must--you shall spare me that poor place.  It is so small."

"And suppose we have an accident, and the powder bestowed in your
chamber above is blown up?"

"Well, I shall have died doing my duty," said the secretary, with
humility.

"Wouldn't it be doing your duty more to try and avoid danger, so as to
be useful to us all?" said Roy; and his mother's eyes flashed with
pleasure, while the secretary started to hear such utterances from the
mere boy he despised.

"Perhaps so," he said, with a faint laugh; "but really, Roy, you will
not be so hard upon me as to refuse that favour.  Do not make me think
that now you are castellan, you are becoming a tyrant."

"There is no fear of my son becoming a tyrant, Master Pawson," said Lady
Royland, smiling, and with something suggesting contempt for the speaker
in her tones.--"Roy, dear, I think you might manage to let the lower
room remain as it is for Master Pawson's use, if the upper floor is
given up to the men.  He could have the room next to yours for a
bedchamber."

"Oh, that would not be necessary," said the secretary, eagerly.  "The
one room is all I want--it can be my bedchamber too."

"I hardly know what to say, mother," said the boy, gravely.--"Well,
then, Master Pawson, keep your study; but we must have the upper room at
once, and if you are annoyed by the going to and fro of the men on the
staircase, you must not blame me."

"My dear boy," he cried, with effusion, "pray do not think me so
unreasonable.  I am most grateful to you, Lady Royland, and to you too,
Roy.  I shall never forget this kindness.  I will go and see to the new
arrangement at once.  Can I have two servants to help to move down the
few things I shall want?"

"You can have two of the garrison, Master Pawson," replied Roy, smiling;
"they all consider themselves to be soldiers now."

"Thank you, thank you," he cried, in a voice which sounded as if it were
choked by emotion, and he hastily left the room.

"I wish he would not be so dreadfully smooth," said Roy, petulantly.  "I
want to like Master Pawson, but somehow he always makes me feel cross."

"He is rather too fond of thanking one for every little favour; but it
is his manner, dear, and he has certainly been doing his best to help us
in this time of need."

"Yes," said Roy; "and we should have thought bad enough of him if he had
gone and left us in the lurch.  There, mother, I must go and see Ben
Martlet and tell him what has been arranged.  He will not like it,
though; but he will have two things out of three."

"You must not give up too much to Martlet, my boy," said Lady Royland,
retaining her son's hand as he rose to go.  "He is a faithful old
servant, and will fight for us to the death; but remember that you are
governor of the castle."

"He makes me remember it, mother," cried Roy, merrily.  "Don't you be
afraid of his being presuming, for he will not do a thing without I give
the order.  There, good-bye."

"Good-bye?  You will be back soon."

"No," replied Roy; "I must be on the battlements all night, visiting
posts and helping to keep watch.  You forget that the enemy surround us
now."

"Alas! no, Roy.  I know it only too well.  Come back in an hour's time--
you will want some refreshment.  I will see that it is ready, and I hope
by then you will find things so quiet that you can take a few hours'
rest."

"We shall see, mother," said Roy, kissing her affectionately.  "How
brave you have grown!"

She shook her head sadly as she clung to him for a few moments; and, as
soon as the door had closed, and his steps died away on the oaken floor
of the corridor, she sank in a chair sobbing as if her heart would
break.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A GRAND SURPRISE.

Roy had to go the whole round of the ramparts that night before he found
Ben, who had always been visiting the parts he reached a few minutes
before.  But he came upon him at length, just at the door-way of the
south-east tower, where it opened upon the southern rampart between that
place and the great gate-way.

"Ladyship says I'm to have the garden to turn back to a proper
court-yard?" said Ben, after hearing his master's report.

"Yes."

"And Master Pawson is turning out of his chamber, but he is to keep the
lower place?"

"Yes; that is the arrangement, Ben; and you can have the upper chamber
for use at once."

"Well, that's a good thing for the men who'll be up there, sir; but what
does Master Pawson want with that lower room?  I meant to have three
firelock men there."

"Be content with what you can have, Ben.  My mother did not want to be
too hard upon Master Pawson."

"No, sir; she wouldn't be.  But you've come all round the ramparts?"

"Yes."

"Kep' looking out of course, sir?  What did you hear?"

"I?  Nothing."

"Then you didn't try."

"Yes, I did; twice on each rampart.  There was nothing to hear."

Ben chuckled.

"Ears aren't so sharp for night-work as they will be, sir, before you've
done.  I heard them on the move every time I stopped."

"What! the enemy?"

"Yes, sir; they're padrolling the place round and round.  You listen."

Roy reached over the battlement, and gazed across the black moat, trying
to pierce the transparent darkness of the dull soft night.  The dew that
was refreshing the herbage and flowers of field, common, and copse sent
up a deliciously moist scent, and every now and then came the call of a
moor-hen paddling about in the moat, the soft piping and croaking of the
frogs, and the distant _hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo_! of an owl, but he could make
out nothing else, and said so.

"No; they're pretty quiet now, sir; don't hear nothing myself.--Yes;
there!"

"Yes, I heard that," said Roy; "it was a horse champing his bit; and
there again, that must have been the jingle of a spur."

"Right, sir, right.  You'll hear plenty of that sort of thing if you
keep on listening.  There, hear that?"

"Yes, plainly.  A horse stumbled and plunged to save itself."

"Enough to make it," said Ben, gruffly; "going to sleep, and him on it
jigged the spurs into its flanks to rouse it up.  There, you can hear
'em on the move again, going to and fro."

"Yes, quite plainly," whispered Roy; "why, they must have come in much
nearer."

"No, sir.  Everything's so quiet that the sounds seem close.  They won't
come in nigher for fear of a shot."

"But they must know we could not see them."

"Not yet, sir; but the moon'll be up in a couple of hours, and they know
it'll rise before long, and won't run any risks after what they've seen
of my gunners--I mean your--sir.  Ah! it's a bad job about those ten
poor lads.  They would have been able to shoot.  Master Raynes is in a
fine taking about 'em."

"Can't be helped, Ben; we must do our best without them."

"Ay, sir, we must, even if it's bad."

They remained silent for a few minutes, gazing outward, hearing the
jingle of harness, and the soft trampling of hoofs, all of which sounded
wonderfully near.

The pause was broken by Ben, who whispered suddenly:

"You're right, Master Roy, after all; they are coming in a bit closer
and no mistake.  Mind coming round with me?"

"No.  What are you going to do?"

"Have a word with the lads all round to be on the lookout.  I don't want
to make a noise, and get blazing away powder and shot for nothing; but
they must be taught their distance, sir."

"With the cannon?"

"No; I think a few firelock shots might do it to-night, sir; and that
wouldn't be so wasteful.  Do our boys good too.  They haven't fired
their pieces yet in earnest."

Roy's heart began to beat a little faster, for this was exciting; and
silently passing on with his lieutenant, post after post was visited,
the men challenging, receiving the word, and then a sharp warning to be
on the alert; while, after this, Ben and Roy passed on to listen again
and again.

"Yes, sir," whispered the former; "there's no mistake they're a good
hundred yards closer in.  I almost fancied I could see one of 'em moving
against that lighter bit of sky."

"I can, Ben," whispered Roy.  "There, just to the left of where the
ruins must lie--between it and the tower we just passed.  Stay, though;
why didn't we go up and see how they're getting on with clearing Master
Pawson's chamber?  There is a light up there."

"'Cause we've got something more serious on the way, sir."

"Halt! stand, or I fire!" came from the top of the north-west tower, and
Roy was about to call out--

"Don't, you idiot; we gave you the word just now," when a voice from
beyond the moat uttered a low "Whist!"

"Stand, or I fire!"

"If you do, Dick Davis, I'll punch your head, as sure as you stand
there," came from across the moat.  "Can't you see we're friends?"

"Give the word."

"Stop!  Who's there?" cried Roy.

"That you, sir?  Please speak to Dick Davis, or he'll be shooting
somebody with that gun of hisn."

"Is that Brian Wiggins?"

"Yes, sir, and the rest on us, sir.  But pst!  The enemy's close
behind."

"Quick! round to the bridge!"

"No, sir; there's a whole lot of 'em come close in.  They nearly had us
an hour ago, and we've had a fine job to creep through all in a line one
arter t'other."

"Hist! cease talking," whispered Roy, "or you'll be heard."

The warning came too late, for an order delivered in a low tone a short
distance away was followed by a tramping as if a line of horses was
approaching cautiously.

"How many of you can swim?  Now, as many as can, come across."

But no one stirred, and the trampling came on.

"Do you hear?" said Roy, in an angry whisper; "are you afraid?"

"Fear'd to leave our comrades as can't swim, sir," said the man who had
first spoken.

"What's to be done," exclaimed Roy, excitedly.

But there was no response, for he was standing there upon the rampart
alone.

The boy was in an agony of doubt and dread, for the right thing to do in
such an emergency would not come to his inexperienced brain.  He divined
that Ben had gone for assistance, but he felt that before he could be
back, the brave fellows who were trying to come to their aid would be
surrounded by the enemy and taken prisoners.

To add to his horror and excitement, he plainly heard from the enemy's
line the word given to dismount.  This was followed by the jingle of
accoutrements as the men sprang from their horses, and a loud bang--
evidently of a steel headpiece falling to the ground.

To speak to the unarmed men from the farm was to obtain an answer and
proclaim their whereabouts to the enemy; so Roy was baffled there; and,
at his wit's end, he was about to order them to make their way to the
bridge, when the man on the tower above challenged again:

"Stand, or I fire!"

"Draw swords!  Forward, quick!" came from out of the darkness.

The sharp rattle and noise told that the party must be large, and like a
call just then a horse uttered a tremendous neigh.

Involuntarily, at the first order from beyond the moat, Roy had half
drawn his own sword, but thrust it angrily back as he realised his
impotence, and reached forward to try and make out what was going on
below him; for there was a loud splashing noise in the water as if the
men were lowering themselves into the moat, the reeds and rushes
crackled and whispered, and there was a panting sound and a low
ejaculation or two.

"Now, every one his man," said some one, sharply.

_Bang, bang_! and a couple of flashes of light from the top of the tower
just above Roy's head; and as the splashing went on, there was a loud
trampling of feet.

"On with you!" roared the same voice.  "They'll be an hour loading, and
it's too dark to hit."

At that moment, from some distance along the rampart to the right, came
flash after flash, and the reports of ten or a dozen muskets, followed
by the rush of feet; and Ben's voice said, in a low stern tone--

"Steady, steady!  No hurry.  Reload!"

There was the rustling and rattling of bandoleer and ramrod, and the
twinkling of sparks of light, as the reloading went on; while from the
angry orders being given, some distance back in the darkness, it was
evident that the volley had sent the enemy off in a scare, which was
made worse by the plunging, snorting, and galloping of horses which had
evidently dashed off, escaping from the men who held their reins.

"How many are you above there?" cried Roy.

"Three, sir."

"Only two fired."

"No.  My piece wouldn't go."

"Are you reloaded?"

"Yes, sir."

"Be ready."

"They're coming on again, sir.  He's rallied 'em," growled Ben; "but we
shall be ready for 'em when they come."

Meanwhile, the sound of splashing and swimming came up from the moat,
accompanied by a good many spluttering and choking noises, and now heads
were dimly made out approaching the bank of the moat below.

"How many are there of you across?" said Roy.

"Eight of us, sir," came up in a panting voice; "we're going back for
the other two."

"Who are--how many?"

"Four on us, sir," said one man; "they're hiding in the reeds.  Can't
swim."

"Can you bring them across?"

"Yes, sir.  We did bring three as couldn't take a stroke, and they're
down here half drowned."

"That's a loy," said a gruff voice; "I aren't: on'y full o' water."

The men lowered themselves into the moat again, and began to swim back,
but just as they were nearly across, there came the thudding sound of
horses passing along at a trot, and a rush of men towards the edge of
the moat.

"Fire!" shouted Roy; and over the swimmers' heads a ragged volley tore,
the flashes cutting the darkness, and once more, in spite of angry
curses and yelled-out orders, horse and man were driven to the
right-about, all save about a dozen, who came right on to the edge of
the moat.

"Surrender!" roared a voice, as there was a quick splashing among the
reeds below the bank.  Then a shot was fired from a pistol, followed by
another; but the men summoned to surrender had done so to their
comrades, who whispered to them to trust themselves to their strong
arms, two of the swimmers taking a non-swimmer between them, and
bringing him across in safety to the rest, crouching upon the narrow
strip of bank beneath the walls.

Another volley sent the attacking party back into the darkness, and a
brief colloquy took place.

"All safe?" cried Roy.

"Yes, sir, and as wet as wet," came up in answer.

"Fall in, then, and quick march for the sally-port," cried Roy; and the
men tramped round by the north-west tower, along beneath the western
rampart, turned the southern corner, and were admitted by the little
sally-port beside the portcullis, where, bedraggled as they were, they
received a tremendous hand-shaking and a roar of cheers.

In half an hour the missing men were in dry clothes, ready to recount
their adventures.  The enemy had retired to a distance to continue their
night patrol of the place; while the men upon the ramparts were reduced
to the regular watch, and those off duty were being addressed by Ben,
who sarcastically lectured them upon what he called their modesty.

"When the captain gives the order to fire," he said, "you're all to pull
trigger together, and every man not to let his comrade fire first for
good manners."

But here Roy interposed.

"No more to-night, sergeant," he said, firmly.  "We are all fresh to our
work.  But I thank you all for the brave and manly way in which you have
shown what you can do.  This has been a grand night's work: your ten
comrades safely brought in, and the enemy sent to the right-about.  The
sergeant has been finding fault, but he is as proud of you all as I am.
Come, Martlet, what do you say?"

"Might ha' done better, captain," replied the old fellow, gruffly.  "But
it warn't so bad.  Wait a few days, though, and we'll show you something
better than that.--What do you say, lads?"

The answer was a hearty cheer, which was repeated, and was still echoing
through the place, when Roy, thrilling still with the excitement of the
past hour, made his way towards his mother's room to fully set her mind
at rest with his last good news.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

BUT ALL'S WELL.

Lady Royland was surrounded by the trembling women of the household,
who, scared by the firing, had sought her to find comfort and relief.

"What! the ten men safely brought in!" she cried, as her son hastened to
tell his tidings.  "And no one hurt?"

"No one on our side, mother," said Roy, meaningly; "I cannot answer for
those across the moat."

"Our ten poor fellows here in safety," cried Lady Royland, once again.
"Oh, Roy, my boy, this is good news indeed!  But you must be faint and
exhausted.  Come in the dining-room.  I have something ready for you.--
There, you have nothing to fear now," she said, addressing the women;
"but one of you had better go and tell Master Pawson that we are ready
to sup."

The women went out, some of them still trembling and hysterical, and all
white and scared of aspect.

As soon as the door was closed, Lady Royland caught her son's hand.

"Eight of us women," she said, with a forced laugh: "eight, and of no
use whatever; only ready to huddle together like so many sheep scared by
some little dog; when, if we were men, we could be of so much help.
There, come along; you look quite white.  You are doing too much.  For
my sake, take care."

Roy nodded and smiled, and followed his mother into the dining-room,
where with loving care she had prepared everything for him, and made it
attractive and tempting, so that it should be a relief to the harsh
realities of the warlike preparations with which the boy was now mixed
up.

"You must eat a good supper, Roy, and then go and have a long night's
rest."

"Impossible, mother," he said, faintly; "must go and visit the men's
posts from time to time."

"No," said Lady Royland, firmly, as she unbuckled her son's sword-belt,
and laid it and the heavy weapon upon a couch.

There was a tap at the door directly after, and one of the maids came
back.

"If you please, my lady, I've been knocking ever so long at Master
Pawson's door, and he doesn't answer.  We think he has gone to bed."

"Surely not.  He must be in the upper chamber arranging about the things
being removed."

"No, my lady; that was all done a long time ago.  It was finished before
the fighting began, for he wouldn't have nothing but his bed and
washstand brought down.  The men had to take most of the other things
right down in the black cellar place underneath, so as to clear the
chamber."

"But did you ask the men on guard if they had seen him?"

"Yes, my lady; they say he shut himself up in his room."

"That will do.  Never mind," said Lady Royland, dismissing the
maid.--"Now, Roy, I am going to keep you company, and--oh, my boy! what
is it?  Ah!  You are hurt!"

She flew to his side, and with trembling hands began to tear open his
doublet, but he checked her.

"No, no, mother, I am not--indeed!"

"Then what is it?  You are white and trembling, and your forehead is all
wet."

"Yes, it has come over like this," he faltered, "all since the fight and
getting the men in through the sally-port."

"But you must have been hurt without knowing it."

"No, no," he moaned, as he sank back in the chair, and covered his face
with his hands.

"Roy, my boy, speak out.  Tell me.  What is the matter?"

"I didn't mean to speak a word, mother," he groaned; "but I can't keep
it back."

"Yes; speak, speak," she said, tenderly, as she sank upon her knees by
his side, and drew his head to her breast.

"Ah!" he sighed, restfully, as he flung his arms about her neck.  "I can
speak now.  I should have fought it all back; but when I came in here,
and saw all those frightened women, and you spoke as you did about being
so helpless, it was too much for me."

"Oh, nonsense!" she cried, soothingly.  "Why should their--our--foolish
weakness affect you, my own brave boy?"

"No, no, mother," he cried; "don't--don't speak like that.  You hurt me
more."

"Hurt you?" she said, in surprise.

"Yes, yes," he cried, excitedly.  "You don't know; but you must know--
you shall know.  I'm not brave.  I'm a miserable coward."

"Roy!  Shame upon you!" cried Lady Royland, reproachfully.

"Yes, shame upon me," said the lad, bitterly; "but I can't help it.  I
have tried so hard; but I feel such a poor weak boy--a mere impostor,
trying to lord it over all these men."

"Indeed!" said Lady Royland, gravely.  "Yes?  Go on."

"I know they must see through me, from Ben down to the youngest farm
hand.  They're very good and kind and obedient because I'm your son; but
they, big strong fellows as they are, must laugh at me in their
sleeves."

"Ah! you feel that?" said Lady Royland.

"Yes, I feel what a poor, girlish, weak thing I am, and that all this is
too much for me.  Mother, if it were not for you and for very shame, I
believe I should run away."

"Go on, Roy," sand Lady Royland; and her sweet, deep voice seemed to
draw the most hidden thoughts of his breast to his lips.

"Yes, I must go on," he cried, excitedly.  "I hid it all when I went to
face that officer, who saw through me in spite of my bragging words, and
laughed; and in the wild excitement of listening to-night to the
troopers closing us in and trying to capture those poor fellows, I did
not feel anything like fear; but now it is all over and they are safe, I
am--I am--oh, mother! it is madness--it is absurd for me, such a mere
boy, to go on pretending to command here, with all this awful
responsibility of the fighting that must come soon.  I know that I can't
bear it--that I must break down--that I have broken down.  I can't go on
with it; I'm far too young.  Only a boy, you see, and I feel now more
like a girl, for I believe I could lie down and cry at the thought of
the wounds and death and horrors to come.  Oh, mother, mother!  I'm only
a poor pitiful coward after all."

"God send our poor distressed country a hundred thousand of such poor
pitiful cowards to uphold the right," said Lady Royland, softly, as she
drew her son more tightly to her swelling breast.  "Hush, hush, my boy!
it is your mother speaks.  There, rest here as you used to rest when you
were the tiny little fellow whose newly opened eyes began to know me,
whose pink hands felt upward to touch my face.  You a coward!  Why, my
darling, can you not understand?"

"Yes, I understand," he groaned, as he clung to her, "that it is my own
dear mother trying to speak comfort to me in my degradation and shame.
Mother, mother!  I would not have believed I was such a pitiful cur as
this."

"No," she said, softly; "I am speaking truth.  You do not understand
that after the work and care of all this terrible time of preparation,
ending in the great demands made upon you to-day, the strain has been
greater than your young nature can bear.  Bend the finest sword too far,
Roy, and it will break.  You are overdone--worn-out.  It is not as you
think."

"Ah! it is you who do not know, mother," he said, bitterly.  "I am not
fit to lead."

"Indeed! you think so?" she said, pressing her lips to his wet, cold
brow.  "You say this because you look forward with horror to the
bloodshed to come."

"Yes; it is dreadful.  I was so helpless to-night, and I shall be losing
men through my ignorance."

"Helpless to-night?  But you beat the enemy off."

"No, no--Ben Martlet's doing from beginning to end."

"Perhaps.  The work of an old trained man of war, who has ridden to the
fight a score of times with your father, and now your brave father's
son's right-hand--a man who worships you, and who told me only to-day,
with the tears in his eyes, how proud he was of that gallant boy--of
you."

"Ben said that--of me?"

"Yes, my boy; and do you think with all his experience he cannot read
you through and through?"

"No, mother, he can't--he can't," said the lad, despondently; "no one
can know me as I do."

"Poor child!" she said, fondly, as she caressed him; "what a piece of
vanity is this!  A boy of seventeen thinking he knows himself by heart.
Out upon you, Roy, for a conceited coxcomb!  Why, we all know you better
than you know yourself; and surely I ought to be the best judge of what
you are."

"No," said Roy, angrily; "you only spoil me."

"Indeed! then I shall go on, and still spoil you in this same way, and
keep you the coward that you are."

"Mother!" he cried, reproachfully; "and with all this terrible
responsibility rising like a dense black cloud before my eyes."

"Yes, Roy, because it is night now, and black night too, in your weary
brain.  Ah! my boy, and to how many in this world is it the same black
night.  But the hours glide on, the day dawns, and the glorious sun
rises again to pierce the thick cloud of darkness, and brighten the
gloomy places of the earth.  Just as hope and youth and your natural
vigour will chase away your black cloud, after the brain has been fallow
for a few hours, and you have had your rest."

"No, no, no," he groaned; "you cannot tell."

"I can tell you, Roy," she said, softly; "and I can tell you, too, that
your father is just such another coward as his son."

"My father!" cried Roy, springing to his feet, flushed and excited.  "My
father is the bravest, truest man who ever served the king."

"Amen to that, my boy!" said Lady Royland, proudly; "but do you think,
Roy, that our bravest soldiers, our greatest warriors, have been men
made of iron--cruel, heartless beings, without a thought of the terrible
responsibilities of their positions, without a care for the sufferings
of the men they lead?  I believe it never has been so, and never will.
Come, my darling," she continued, clinging to his hands, and drawing
herself to her feet--"come here for a little while.  There," she said,
softly, taking the sword from the couch; "your blade is resting for a
while; why should not you?  Yes: I wish it; lie right down--for a little
while--before we sup.  Ah, that is better!"

Utterly exhausted now, Roy yielded to her loving hands, and sank back
upon the soft couch with a weary sigh; while, as he stretched himself
out, she knelt by his side, and tenderly wiped his brow before passing
her hands over his face, laying his long hair back over the pillow, and
at every touch seeming to bring calm to the weary throbbing brain.

After a few minutes he began to mutter incoherently, and Lady Royland
leaned back to reach a feather-fan from a side-table, and then softly
wafted the air to and fro till the words began to grow more broken, and
at last ceased, as the boy uttered a low, weary sigh, his breath grew
more regular, and he sank into the deep heavy sleep of exhausted nature.

Then the fan dropped from Lady Royland's hand, and she rose to cross the
room softly, and with a line draw up the casement of the narrow slit of
a window which looked down upon the moat, for the night wind came
fresher there than from the main windows looking upon the garden court.

Softly returning, she bent down, and with the lightest of fingers untied
the collar of her son's doublet and linen shirt, before bending lower,
with her long curls drooping round his face, till she could kiss his
brow, no longer dank and chilly, but softly, naturally warm.

This before sinking upon her knees to watch by his side for the
remainder of the night; and as she knelt her lips parted to murmur--

"God save the king--my husband--and our own brave boy!"

A moment later, as if it were an answer to her prayer, a voice, softened
by the distance, was heard from the ramparts somewhere above uttering
the familiar reply to a challenge--

"All's well!"



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

ROY GETS OVER HIS FIT.

The dawn came, and Lady Royland still knelt by the couch where her son
slept heavily.  She did not stir till the sun rose, and then she rose
softly to go to the narrow slit in the massive wall, reach as far as she
could into the deep splay, and gaze out.

She sighed, for far-away in the distance she could see mounted men with
the sun flashing from their armour.

She turned back, for she had learned all she wished to know--the enemy
was still there; and, wondering what that day might bring forth, she
went and sat down now by her son's head to watch him as he slept.

The time crept on with the sounds of the awakening household mingled
with the clangour of the morning calls and the tramp of armed men
floating in through the window; but the watcher did not stir till the
door was opened, and a couple of the maids appeared, to start back in
affright, after a wondering glance at the untouched meal upon the table,
for Lady Royland rose quickly with a gesture to them to be silent.

They crept away, and she followed to the door.

"Prepare the breakfast in the library," she said, and then returned to
her seat.

The clock chimed and struck again and again, but Roy did not wake; and
at last one of the maids came and tapped very softly.

"Breakfast is quite ready, my lady," she whispered.

"I am not coming till my son wakes," replied Lady Royland.  "Ask Master
Pawson not to wait."

"He's not down yet, my lady," said the woman.

"Very well: ask him not to wait when he does come.  The gentlemen are
weary after the troubles of a very anxious night."

The woman went away, and Lady Royland returned to her seat, to bend over
her son again as he lay there breathing evenly, still plunged in his
deep sleep; and then at its stated intervals, the clock in the gate-way
chimed, and chimed, and struck, and struck again, to mark off the second
hour before there was another tap at the door, and the maid announced in
a whisper that Sergeant Martlet was asking for Captain Roy.

"Send him here," said her ladyship, "and bid him come in gently."

"Yes, my lady," said the woman; "and, if you please, my lady, Master
Pawson has just come down, and is having his breakfast."

"Very good," said Lady Royland, coldly, and the maid retired.

Five minutes later, the old soldier, fully armed, came softly to the
door, was admitted, and stood upon the thick carpet, saluting his lady.
She pointed to the couch, and a grim smile of satisfaction crossed the
soldier's deeply-lined face.

"He was quite worn-out and exhausted," said Lady Royland, in a whisper,
as she crossed to where Ben stood,--"too faint and troubled with the
cares and anxieties of this weary business even to eat."

"But he has slept, my lady?" whispered Ben.

"Ever since."

"Let him sleep, then, till he wakes, and he'll be right enough again."

"I hope so; but he was very low and despondent last night.  He feels the
responsibility of his position so much."

"Course he does, my lady.  That's his breed.  His father always did.
Used to make as much fuss over one of us as went down or got a wound as
if we'd been his own children.  But you let him sleep, my lady; he'll be
like a new man when he gets up.  He's a wonder, my lady; that he is."

"He was afraid that the men were disposed to smile at him because he is
so young."

"I should just like to ketch one on 'em a-doing it," growled Ben.  "But
it aren't true, my lady," he continued, excitedly.  "They smiles when he
comes up, o' course, but it's because he seems to do 'em good, and they
can't help it, they're so pleased to see him.  Why, if you'll believe
me, my lady, from Sir Granby's corporal o' dragoons down to Isaiah
Wiggens, as got nigh upon drowned being pulled across the moat last
night, my lady--"

"Oh, how horrible!"

"Horrid?  Not it, my lady--begging your pardon.  Sarve him right!  Great
big hulking lubberly chap like that, and not able to swim!"

"But is he ill this morning?"

"Not he, my lady.  He was so roasted in the guard-room after, that he
got up at daylight and went into the moat again 's morning to begin to
larn."

"But tell me, what news?"

"They're all padrolling us, my lady, same as they were last night.  They
got the oats from Farmer Raynes, and they think they're going to starve
us by stopping everything else from coming in; but we can afford to
laugh at 'em for about three months; and at the end of that time, if Sir
Granby don't come and raise the siege, I've got an idee for trapping
enough meat for the men."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, my lady," said Ben, with a grin.  "Only to lower the drawbridge
and hyste the portcullis, to let a whole court-yard-full ride in.  Then
drop the grating behind 'em, and they're trapped.  After that we can
make 'em lay down their arms, turn 'em out, and keep their horses.
They'll do to feed the men.  I've eaten horse, and Sir Granby too, at a
pinch, and it aren't so bad; but o' course I'd rather have beef."

"Then there is nothing to fear for the present?"

"Aren't nothing to fear at all, past, present, or futur', my lady, so
don't you be uncomfortable.  And as for Master Roy, he needn't go
thinking no nonsense o' that sort about the men, for they just worship
him, all of 'em, and that's the honest truth."

"I believe it, Martlet.  Have you breakfasted this morning?"

"Had a chunk o' bread and a mug o' milk, my lady."

"That is not enough for a busy man like you are.  Sit down to that
table, and eat."

"What, here, my lady!  Oh, no, I couldn't presume!"

"Hush!  Do not speak so loud," said Lady Royland, smiling.  "These are
not times for standing upon ceremony, Martlet.  We women cannot fight;
but we can help in other ways, above all in attending to our brave
defenders, and seeing that they have all that is necessary.  And if the
worst comes to the worst, and--"

"Yes; I know what your ladyship means," said the old soldier, for Lady
Royland had paused, "and to be plain, the men have been talking a bit
about that same, and what they were to do if they were hurt and no
doctor here.  I said--"

It was the sergeant's turn to be silent now, and he stopped as if the
words would not come.

"And what did you say?"

"Well, my lady, I took the liberty of saying that your ladyship was
training up the women, and that when one of us was lucky enough to get
wounded in the service of his king and country, he'd be carried into one
of the big rooms o' the east side, as would be turned into a hospital,
and there tied up and put to bed, and souped and jellied and pastied,
and made so much of, that he'd be sorry for the poor comrades who were
only working the guns and doing the fighting."

"You were quite right, Martlet," said Lady Royland.  "Tell the men that
the wounded shall each be treated as if he were my own son."

"Begging your ladyship's pardon, that's just what I did tell 'em, only I
put a few flourishes to it, and I won't say it again, because it may
make 'em rash and wanting to get wounded for the sake of being carried
into the snug quarters, and--"

"Sit down, Martlet, and eat," said Lady Royland, pushing a chair towards
the table.

"With your ladyship's permission, I'd rather cut off a bit o' something,
and go and sit on one of the guns to eat it, and look out too.  I should
enjoy it better."

"Do as you wish," said Lady Royland.  "There, take that fowl and loaf."

"Thank you kindly, my lady, and--Morning, Master Roy, sir.  Had a good
sleep?"

For at that moment Roy sprang from the couch and looked excitedly round.

"What is it?" he cried.  "What's the matter?  Morning!  Surely I have
not--"

"Yes, Roy, soundly and well, all night.  Come, you must be ready for
breakfast."

"Yes, yes, mother," cried the boy, impatiently.--"But tell me, Ben--Oh,
you ought not to have let me sleep all night.  Here, what has happened?"

"Nothing at all, sir, or I should have sent for you," said the old
soldier, who had taken out a handkerchief, given it a shake, and spread
it upon the carpet, placed in it the roast chicken and loaf, sprinkled
all liberally with salt, and now proceeded to tie the ends of the
handkerchief across, to make a bundle.  "They're a-padrolling round and
round, just as they have been all night, and keeping well out of
gunshot.  Wouldn't like me to send a ball hopping along the ground to
try the range, would you, sir?"

"No, not unless they attack," said Roy, quickly.

"Thought you wouldn't, sir, when I spoke.--Thank ye for this snack, my
lady.  I'll go back now to the ramparts.--P'raps you'll jyne me there,
Master Roy, when you've had your breakfast.  All's well, sir; and them
ten farmers are ready to stand on their heads with joy at getting
through the enemy's ranks."

"Ah! how was it?"

"Only kept back by the sentries watching 'em; so they all went home as
if they'd done work, and agreed to crawl to our place after dark, and
creep to the gates."

"But no one was hurt?"

"No, sir; nothing worse happened to 'em than a wetting in the moat, and
that don't count, because they were well wet before with crawling
through the grass and damp ditches.  See you in 'bout an hour's time
then, sir?"

Roy nodded shortly, and the man left the room with his bundle; while
Roy, uneasy still in mind, turned to his mother, who embraced him
tenderly.

"You will not be long, Roy, my dear?" she said.  "I want my breakfast,
too."

"But surely, mother, you have not been sitting up all night while I
slept?"

"Indeed, yes," she said, merrily.  "And many a time before last night,
when you were a tiny thing and could not sleep.  Last night you could,
peacefully and well, to awake this morning strong mentally and bodily,
to do your duty like my brave son."

Roy winced; but there was something in his mother's look which told him
that his words of the past night were as if uttered only to himself, and
that the subject of their conversation must be buried in the past.

"You will not be long?" said Lady Royland, as she went to the door.

"No, mother; not above ten minutes.  Quite enough for a soldier's
toilet," he said, cheerily.  And she nodded and went off; while he
hurried to his own room, and after plunging his face in the fresh cold
water felt such a healthy glow coming through his veins, that he was
ready to wonder at the previous night's depression.

"What a glorious morning!" he muttered.  "Couldn't have been well last
night.--Hope my mother didn't think me stupid.--What a shame to let her
sit up there all night!--Why, how hungry I do feel!--And only to think
of our getting those fellows in quite safe after all.--Ha, ha, ha! how
mad the enemy must have felt."

Roy was standing before a mirror combing his wet locks as he burst out
into a hearty laugh, full of enjoyment; but he checked it directly, and
stood staring at himself in wonder as the thoughts of the past night
intruded, and he remained for a few moments puzzled to account for the
change that a long rest had wrought in him.

The next minute he was hurrying with his sword and belt under his arm to
the breakfast-room, where he found his mother waiting, and Master
Pawson, who looked very pale, in conversation with her.

"Good-morning, Roy," he said.  "I congratulate you upon the accession to
the strength of the garrison.  The men are all in the highest spirits,
and full of praise of the gallant way in which you drove the enemy
back."

"Then I shall have to undeceive them, Master Pawson," replied Roy, as he
joined his mother at the table.  "It was in the dark, and they could not
see.  All Ben Martlet's doing from beginning to end."

"I'm afraid you are too modest," said the secretary, smiling, as Roy
began his breakfast with a splendid appetite.  "And tell me," he
continued, anxiously--"I ought not to ask, perhaps, but I take such
interest in the proceedings--you will not listen to any proposals for
surrender, even on good terms, which may come from the enemy?"

"What capital ham, mother," said Roy.  Then turning to the secretary: "I
wouldn't have listened to any proposals for surrender without those ten
men, Master Pawson.  When all the guns are disabled and the powder done,
and nearly everybody wounded, I won't surrender; for you'll put on a
helmet and back-piece then, and come and help the maids throw down
stones upon their heads, and--yes, we shall have to use the
machicolations then; but it shall be hot water for the enemy, not hot
lead.  The women can manage the boiling water better than the metal.
Surrender!  Bah!  I say, sit down and have some more breakfast.  I'm too
busy to talk."

"Ah! what a spirit you have," cried the secretary, with a look of
admiration in the lad's face.  "But you are right.  No surrender upon
any terms; and if you talk much more like this, Roy, you will inspire
me.  I, too, shall want to fight, or at least help to load the guns."

"I hope you won't," thought Roy; "for I'd a great deal rather you would
stop away."

Ten minutes later he was buckling on his sword, without a trace of the
last night's emotion visible on his countenance.

"I'll go down to the great gate," said the secretary.  "You will join me
there?"

"Yes, directly.  But I say, Master Pawson, I hope you managed to make
shift at your new bedroom."

"Don't mention it.  I shall be all right.--For the present, Lady
Royland!"  And the secretary left the room.

"No surrender, Roy, my boy."

"No, mother; and--and--last night, I--"

"Was tired out, and no wonder.  No--hush!  Not another word.  Some day
when all is at peace once more, I will reopen the subject in your
father's presence.  Till then, it is our mutual confidence.  There, go
and show yourself to the men, and see how they will greet you on this
bonnie, sunny day."

The boy hurried out with burning cheeks, and they seemed to scorch as he
found his mother's flower-beds trampled down, and the whole strength of
the garrison on parade; for the moment he appeared, discipline seemed to
be at an end, swords and muskets, adorned with steel caps, were waving
in the air, while the flag flew out bravely from the great tower
overhead, as if fluttered by the wind of the great hearty cheer which
arose as he marched to the front, saluting as he went.

"Ah!" he sighed to himself, as his blood seemed to effervesce, and a
thrill ran through his nerves, "who could be a coward at a time like
this?"



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

BEN MARTLET IS VERY FULL OF DOUBTS.

That day matters remained unchanged, save that only about a fourth of
the enemy were visible, there being mounted men stationed at intervals
upon the higher portions of the country round the castle, where they
could command a view of all the approaches; but towards evening these
men were relieved, and strong bodies appeared, but not for purposes of
attack, merely to draw in and take up stations at closer distances
before recommencing what Ben called "padrolling."  Meanwhile, drilling
went on busily, and the arrangements were advanced for the proper
service of the guns.

A quiet, uninterrupted night succeeded, Roy having arranged with Ben to
divide the post-visiting with him and the corporal, who was now looked
upon as the third officer in command.

Roy saw but little of Master Pawson that evening.  The secretary had
been very busy about the place all the day, and, making the excuse of
weariness after vainly trying to keep his eyes open, he retired early.

Two more days passed in the same way, valuable days to the garrison,
which went on with gun and sword practice from morn till night, and
rapidly approached a condition in which they would be able to give a
good account of themselves before the enemy.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, it was evident that a change was
taking place, for the head of a column of infantry became visible,
probably the men for whom the officer in command had been waiting.

Roy hurried to the top of the gate tower with Ben, and the secretary
followed, and was the first to point out that behind the regiment of
infantry, horses were visible--led horses; and no one was surprised,
when the infantry opened out a little, to see that four heavy guns were
being laboriously dragged along the rough country lane, a road-way ill
fitted to bear the pressure of the wheels with their burden.

"They mean business now," said Roy, who felt as if something was
compressing his heart.

"Oy, sir," said Ben, coolly; "they'll knock up an earthwork before
morning, and set the guns in a position for battering the gate-way."

"But you will not surrender, Roy?" said the secretary, excitedly.

"Not I," said Roy.  "I told you so before."

"Not him, sir," said old Ben.  "Let 'em batter.  Them guns won't be
heavy enough to hurt the tower and walls more than to send chips of
stone flying."

"What about the drawbridge, Ben?"

"Oh, they can't hurt that, sir, because you'll give orders to lower that
down and hoist the portculley."

"Rather tempting for them to make a rush, Ben."

"Tchah, sir!  We shall be keeping a good watch, and up and down bridge
and portcullis would be, long before they could get up to 'em.  I
s'pose, sir, you'll make sure that old Jenks doesn't go across to his
gate-house."

"Of course."

"And I s'pose, sir, you'll have the two big guns hoisted up on to the
great tower now: we could easily dismount 'em and do that.  They'll be
handier up there now, and very awkward for them as works the guns in
their earthwork."

"Yes, I shall order that to be done at once," said Roy, with a comical
look at his Mentor--one which Ben refused to see.

"And then, sir," he continued, "there's that there earthwork as'll stop
half the shot they send in through the gate-way, and send a lot of 'em
flying right up over the towers."

"What earthwork?"

"Well, sir, that one as you're going to start as soon as it's getting
dark.  Ground's pretty soft for working, and we've got plenty of timber.
I s'pose you'll reg'larly fill up Jenks's gate-way, and leave quite a
deep ditch behind it on our side."

"Why not on their side, Ben?" said Roy, sharply.

"Why, of course, sir; I seemed to fancy this side; but t'other's better,
and all the earth we throw out of the ditch goes on the front and top in
a slope, eh?"

"Yes, of course; and turns the balls upward."

"Not many on 'em will go up, sir.  Ground'll be too soft.  They'll just
plump in there and stop; and so much the better for Royland Towers."

As they watched attentively, they found that the horses were halted, and
the guns drawn right in front of the castle gate, but at the distance of
quite half a mile.  There the men seemed to be bivouacking; and the
smoke of several fires rose slowly in the air.

No more time was lost: the gunners were summoned, ropes got ready, some
heavy beams were hoisted up to the platform of the gate tower, and,
under the guidance of Ben and the corporal, a rough kind of crane was
fitted up; and after the guns had been dismounted, the carriages were
hoisted and placed in position behind the embrasures.

The heavier task was to come; but Ben and the three troopers seemed to
master every difficulty, carefully securing the guns with ingenious
knots of the ropes; and at last the word was given to hoist.

The hemp stretched and strained, and as the first gun rose a little from
the ground, it seemed to Roy as if the strands must give way, and he
ordered every one to stand well aside.  Ben smiled.

"No fear of that, sir," he whispered.  "Those are the toughest of hemp,
those ropes, and as the length gets shorter, the strain grows less.
Steady, my lads! a little at a time."

The hauling went on till the first gun was level with the top of the
battlements, when there was a clever bit of management with a big wooden
bar or two handled by the troopers on the roof, and the first gun was
easily dropped right upon its carriage.

"One," said Roy, with a sigh of relief, for he was in constant dread of
an accident.

"Ay, sir; and it will be two directly; and I wish it was three for the
enemy's sake."

The second gun was hoisted, and mounted rapidly, thanks to the trained
skill of the four regular soldiers; while the men from the mill who
helped looked on with profound admiration, though they were pretty
clever at moving stones.

Discipline was relaxed over this manual labour, with the consequence
that Sam Donny's tongue began to run rather freely, a certain intimacy
having existed in the past between Roy and the miller's man connected
with the demand and supply of meal-worms for catching and feeding
nightingales, which came about as far west as the castle and no farther.

"Beat us chaps to 'a done that, Master Roy," he said.

"Captain Roy," growled Ben.

"Ay.  Forgetted," said the man.  "T'other seems so nat'ral.  Beat us
chaps, Captain Roy.  We'm as strong as them, but they've got a way a
handling they brass guns as seems to come nat'ral to 'em like.  But if
they'll come to the mill, we'll show 'em something along o' flour-sacks,
and the grinding-stones as'll make 'em stare.  Every man to his trade."

"Well, you're a soldier now, Sam Donny, and you must learn to handle
guns as well as you handle sacks of flour."

"We will, master--I mean cap'n.  I should just like me and my mates to
have the letting o' them guns down again.  May we, sir?"

"No.  Absurd."

"But we'd get 'em up again, sir."

"Wait till the enemy have gone," said Roy, "and then we'll see."

A portion of the afternoon was devoted to taking up the necessary
ammunition and re-arranging the top platform they had to prepare for the
guns; and just at dusk, after the sentinels had been doubled, a strong
party stood in the gate-way, armed with shovel and pick, waiting for the
bridge to be lowered.  Another party had a number of beams; and, lastly,
already drawn up, stood a guard prepared to watch over the safety of the
workers, and hand them weapons for their defence, if, perchance, they
were seen by the enemy, and an attempt made to rush in.

But no sign was given to warn the parliamentarians, and Roy and the
secretary stood on the platform of the great gate-way, watching the
enemy, till, in the dim light, a body of men marched to the front,
halted a quarter of a mile from the gate; a large square was rapidly
marked out with pegs, and then an order seemed to be given, for the
party began at once to dig and throw up a breastwork, evidently for the
shelter of their guns.

Master Pawson watched everything eagerly, and kept on pointing out what
was going on, while Roy leaned upon one of the guns, saying, "I've been
wondering whether these guns will carry as far as that work they are
making--I mean so as to hit hard."

"They think they will not," said the secretary, "and have placed their
battery just out of reach."

"How do you know?" said Roy, sharply.

"I--oh, of course, I don't know," said Master Pawson; "it is only what I
judge from seeing them make their battery there."

"Oh, I see," said Roy, quietly.  And he thought no more of the remark
just then.  He waited till the figures of the men digging grew more and
more indistinct, and then quite invisible from where they stood; and he
was just about to descend, when the sergeant joined them, to say,
respectfully--

"We're all ready, sir, and I've got some more poles and planks out of
the wood-house."

"Then we'll start at once," said Roy; "but I'll have these guns manned
at once to cover our working-party."

Ben coughed.

"You don't think that's right?" said Roy, quickly.

"Well, sir, I wouldn't have presumed to interfere with my commanding
officer's orders 'fore any one else.  But--"

"Now don't talk nonsense, Ben," said Roy, warmly.  "There's no one here
but Master Pawson, who is as anxious about preserving the place as we
are."

"Indeed, I am," said the secretary, earnestly.

"So don't let's have any of that silly ceremony.  I wish you wouldn't
pretend to believe I was so conceited."

"I don't, captain," said Ben, abruptly; "only want you to see when
you're wrong."

"Then speak out at once.  Now then; you don't think it worth while to
man these guns now?"

"No, sir.  If they hear us at work, and attack, we've got to retreat
over the bridge fast as we can, and get it hoisted.  Say you've got
these guns manned and loaded, a shot or two might check the attacking
party; but how in the dark are we to know when it is best to fire?  How
are we to take aim?  And what's to prevent our hitting friends instead
of enemies."

"Fire high, over their heads."

"That's wasting two good charges for the sake of making a noise.  I
don't think I'd trouble about them to-night, sir."

"No; you're right.--Eh, Master Pawson?" said Roy.

"I don't much understand these things," said the secretary; "but it
sounds the more sensible idea.  You're not offended by my speaking out?"

"_No_; but I soon shall be if you all treat me as if I thought of
nothing but dressing up as a soldier, and wanting to have my own way
over matters where I'm wrong.  Come along, down."

Roy led the way down through the corner turret, Master Pawson following
and Ben coming last; while, as they wound round the narrow spiral, the
secretary turned his head to whisper--

"He'll make a splendid officer, Martlet."

The only reply he obtained was a very hog-like grunt; then Ben spoke to
himself:

"I wish to goodness you were along o' the enemy, or anywhere but here;
you're supposed to be a friend, but somehow I can't never feel as if you
are one.  My cantank'rousness, I s'pose.  Not being a scholard like you,
maybe.  Anyhow, though, I'm more use just now than you are; not but what
that's easy, for you aren't none at all."

By this time they were down in the gate-way once more, where the
portcullis was raised as silently as possible in the darkness, the
bridge lowered, and the heavily laden working-party, followed by their
guard marched slowly and silently out; a second strong guard was posted
at the far end of the bridge to cover the retreat if one should have to
be made--these last being under the command of the corporal; and Master
Pawson volunteered in a whisper to stay with the men.  Roy acquiesced,
feeling rather glad to be without his company.

Next a halt was called, and all listened as they gazed out in the
darkness in the direction of the enemy.  Then feeling how commanding a
position the latter had in the possession of their horsemen to act as
scouts, and who might approach very near unseen, and discover the plans
of the night, Roy gave orders for the guard at the end of the bridge to
advance two men, to station them as sentries at equal distances, to keep
in touch with the working-party.

"Fiddler's right," growled Ben, to himself.  "He will make a splendid
officer one of these days."

The next minute the work was silently begun, the guard being thrown out
in a half-moon formation in front of the outer gate-way which covered
the bridge.

Ben's plans were very simple.  He had the heaviest beams they had
brought stretched across the gate-way, as high as they could reach
overhead, and propped against the masonry on either side with shorter
beams; then poles, planks, and fagots were stretched in a slope from the
ground to the crossing timbers, so as to make a scarp; and, as soon as
this was done, shovel and pick were set to work to dig a deep wide
ditch, the earth from which was thrown up over the wood; while men on
either side filled baskets and carried their loads to pile upon the
slope as well.

It was roughly done work, but every shovelful added to the strength of
the bank, which rapidly grew in thickness as the hours glided on, the
workers being relieved from time to time to do duty as guards, while the
guard took their turn at shovelling and filling.

There was no halting, the men having refreshments served out to them by
Roy's forethought as they were relieved; and so the work went on till
towards dawn, when a couple of men were strengthening the bank from
behind with short pieces of wood wedged up against the crossbeams, as
the weight of the earth began to make them bend.

"You'll have to set a party to work by daylight, filling up on this
side, Master Roy," said Ben, quietly.  "If we heap up earth and turf
here, it will be the best support, and a regular trap for all their
balls."

"I begin to fear that as soon as they begin to fire they will batter it
all to pieces, Ben."

"Dessay they'll damage it a bit, sir; but if they do, we must mend it;
and every night we work, we can get it stronger and more earthy.
Nothing like soil to swallow balls.  Of course it's no use as a defence,
because the enemy could come round either end; but it'll do what's
wanted, sir--stop the shot from hitting the bridge-chains and smashing
through the grating.  Hello! what's that?"

_That_ was a challenge, followed by a shot, and the rush of feet as the
sentries thrown out ran back.  This was followed by the trampling of
hoofs, and the shouting of orders, as a small body of horse made a dash
at the working-party, sweeping by the gate, but only to be received by a
scattered volley as they were dimly seen riding out of the black
darkness and disappearing again.  But not without coming to the closest
of close quarters, for there was the clashing noise of swords striking
against steel, and, in the brief time occupied by their passing, blows
were returned amidst angry shouting, and several dull thuds told that
the blows had taken effect on horse or man.

It was merely the work of moments, the charge having been delivered from
the left by a party of mounted men who had evidently been reconnoitring
along by the edge of the moat, and came up at a slow walk unheard by the
sentries on the walls.  Then, finding the working-party before them,
they had charged and galloped clear.

Roy fully expected another attack, for which he was now well prepared,
the workers having seized their weapons; but all was still, and he was
arguing with himself as to whether it would not be as well to work on
till daybreak, when a voice from out of the darkness said, faintly--

"Will some 'un come and lend me a hand?"

"Sam Donny!" cried Roy, and, in company with Ben, he ran forward for
quite forty yards before they came upon the man lying prone upon the
earth.

"Why, Sam!" cried Roy; "are you hurt?"

"Well, it's only a scratch, sir; but it do hurt, and it's a-bleeding
like hooroar.  One on 'em chopped at me with his sword.  I'd only got a
pick, you see; but I hit at him with that, and somehow it got stuck, and
I was dragged ever so far before I had to let go.  He's got the pick in
his big saddle, I think.  But I'll pay for it, sir, or get you a new
one."

"Never mind the pick, Sam.  Where are you hurt?"

"Oh, down here, on my right leg, sir.  He made a big cut at me; but I'll
know my gen'leman again.  I'll have a sword next time and pay him back;
and so I tell him."  Ben was down upon his knees, busy with a scarf,
binding the wound firmly, a faint suggestion of the coming day making
his task easier; and, summoning help, a rough litter was formed of a
plank, and the wounded man rapidly carried in over the bridge.

That brought the defensive operations to an end, for Roy withdrew his
men into the castle, and the daylight showed their rough work, which
pretty well secured the gate-way; but it also displayed the work of the
enemy, who had constructed a well-shaped earthwork, out of whose
embrasures peered a couple of big guns.

The rapidly increasing light, too, showed something more, for about a
couple of hundred yards from the outworks, a horse, saddled and bridled,
lay upon its side, quite dead; for the terrible stroke the miller's man
had delivered with his pickaxe had struck into the horse's spine.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

LADY ROYLAND TURNS NURSE.

Roy was face to face with the first of the stern realities of war, as he
hurried into the long chamber beneath the eastern rampart, which Lady
Royland had set apart for the use of any of the men who might, she said,
"turn ill."

Poor Sam Donny had fainted away before he reached the hospital-room, and
upon Roy entering, eager to render assistance, it was to find himself
forestalled by Lady Royland, who, with the old housekeeper, attended to
the wounded man.

Lady Royland hurried to her son, as he appeared at the door.

"No," she said, firmly, "not now: leave this to us.  It is our duty."

"But, mother, do you understand?" protested Roy.

"Better, perhaps, than any one here," she replied.  "Go to your duties;
but come by-and-by to see how the poor fellow is.  It will cheer him."

Roy could not refuse to obey the order, and hurried back to meet Ben on
the way to the sufferer's side.

"Not go in?" said the sergeant.  "Her ladyship says so?  Oh, very well--
then of course it is all right."

"But I feel so anxious," said Roy; "my mother is not a chirurgeon."

"More aren't we, Master Roy; but she's what's just as good--a splendid
nurse.  So's old Grey's wife; so Sam Donny's in clover.  I was being a
bit anxious about him, for fear Master Pawson was doing the doctoring,
and I'd rather trust myself."

"But the wound--the terrible wound?" cried Roy.

"Tchah!  Nothing terrible about that, captain.  Just a clean sword-cut.
You've cut your finger many a time, haven't you?"

"Of course."

"Well, did you want a doctor?  No; you had it tied up tightly, and left
it alone.  Then it grew together again!"

"Yes, yes, yes," cried Roy, impatiently.  "But this was a terrible slash
on the poor fellow's thigh.  You saw how horribly it bled."

"Come, Master Roy, we're both soldiers, and we mustn't talk like this.
I saw his leg bleed, and stopped it, but it wasn't horrible.  Leg's only
like a big finger, and a strong healthy chap soon grows together again.
You mustn't take any notice of a few cuts.  They're nothing.  What we've
got to mind is the cannon-balls.  Now a wound from one of them is
terrible, because you see they don't cut clean, but break bones and do
all kinds of mischief.  Well, we mustn't talk away here, but see to the
men, and get ready for what's to come."

"Do you think they'll attack us to-day?"

"Yes, sir; and as soon as they've finished their two-gun battery.  Now,
by rights, we ought to go and destroy that work, and spike their guns;
but they've got the advantage of us with all that horse, and if we tried
they'd cut us up before we could get at it.  Only chance is to try and
do it at night, if we can't dismount the guns with ours."

A hasty breakfast was eaten, and then the sergeant went up to the newly
mounted guns on the top of the square tower, where Roy promised to join
him as soon as he had been to visit the wounded man.

"Tell him I mean to come as soon as I can, my lad," said Ben, "but it
won't do him any good for me to come now.  Wounded man's best left alone
till he gets over his touch of fever.  But tell him I'm sorry he's down,
and that I shall very much miss my best gunner.  It'll please him, and
it's quite true."

Roy nodded, and in due time went to the hospital-room, where he tapped
lightly, and the door was opened by the old housekeeper, who looked
rather pale; but Lady Royland, who was seated by the wounded man's
bedside, rose and came to her son.

"Yes," she said; "go and speak to him; but don't stay many minutes, for
he must not talk much.  A few words from you, though, will do him good."

Roy glanced towards the bed, which was close to one of the windows
looking out on the court-yard garden, and he could see that the man was
watching him intently.

"Go to him.  I'll leave you and come back when I think you have been
here long enough."

The door closed behind Lady Royland and her old assistant as Roy made
for the couch, expecting to see a painful sight of agony and terror;
but, as he approached, the man's countenance expanded into a broad grin.

"Don't be hard on a poor fellow, captain," he said, just as Roy was
ready with a prepared speech about being sorry to see the man in so
grievous a condition.

"Hard upon you, Sam!  What for?"

"Sneaking out o' all the fun like this here!  'Taren't my fault, you
know.  I didn't want to stop in bed; but my lady says I must, and that
she'll report me to you if I don't obey orders.  I say, let me get up,
sir.  It's just foolishness me lying here."

"Foolishness!  What! with that bad wound?"

"Bad, sir?  Why, you don't call that bad.  If he'd cut my head off, I'd
ha' said it was."

"How?" cried Roy, unable to repress a smile.

"How, sir?  Why--oh! o' course not.  Didn't think o' that; I s'pose I
couldn't then.  But I say, Master Roy, sir--I mean cap'n, I'm just
ashamed o' myself letting her ladyship wait on the likes o' me!"

"Why should you be, Sam?  Haven't you been risking your life to defend
us?"

"Me?  No, sir, not as I knows on," said the man, staring.

"Well, I do know; and now you are not to talk."

"Oh, sir!  If I'm to be here I must talk."

"You must not, Sam.  There, I came to see how you were."

"Quite well, thank ye kindly, sir."

"You are not.  You have a bad wound."

"But I aren't, Master Roy.  It's on'y a bit cut; and I want to have a
stick and come up on the tower in case we have to work that gun."

"If you want to help to work that gun again, Sam, you will have to lie
still and let your wound heal."

"Master Roy!--I mean oh, cap'n--it's worse than the wound to hear that."

"We can't help it.  Tell me, are you in much pain?"

"Oh, it hurts a bit, sir; but if I was busy I should forget that, and--"

_Crash_!--_Boom_!

A strange breaking sound, and the rattling of the windows as a heavy
report followed directly after, and Roy sprang from the chair he had
taken by the wounded man's couch.

"On'y hark, sir--that was my gun atop o' the gate tower begun firing,
and me not there."

"Be patient, Sam," cried Roy, excitedly.  "It was not one of our guns,
but the enemy's, and the fight has begun in earnest.  Good-bye, and lie
still."

He was half across the room as he said this, and the door opened to
admit Lady Royland, looking deadly pale.

"Roy, my boy," she cried, in a low, pained voice, as she caught his
hands; "they are firing."

"Yes, mother; and so will we," cried the lad, excitedly.

"You--you will not expose yourself rashly," she whispered; "you will
take care?"

"I'm going to try not to do anything foolish, mother," he said; "but I
must be with the men."

She clung to him wildly, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak;
but no words came, and Roy bent forward, kissed her, and tried to
withdraw his hands, but they were too tightly held.

_Boom_! came another report following closely upon a peculiar whizzing
sound, apparently over the open window.

"Another gun from the enemy, and we're doing nothing," said Roy,
impatiently.  "Mother, don't stop me; they will think I'm afraid.  I
must be with the men."

Lady Royland drew a deep breath, and her face became fixed and firm once
more, though the pallor seemed intensified.

"Yes," she said, quickly, as she threw her arms about her son for a
brief embrace; "you must be with your men, Roy.  Go, and remember my
prayers are with you always.  Good-bye!"

"Just for a while," he cried.  "You shall soon have news of how we are
going on."



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

GOING UNDER FIRE.

Roy ran out of the room, leaving the old housekeeper, who was waiting
outside, to close the door, and dashed down the few stairs and out into
the court-yard, where the greater part of their little force was drawn
up on either side of the gate-way, looking very serious and troubled;
but as soon as he appeared they burst into a cheer, to which Roy
answered by waving his hand.

"The game has begun," he cried.

"Yes, sir," said one of the troopers, who with Farmer Raynes was in
command of the men; "first shot struck the tower full, and splintered
down some stone.  Better mind how you cross the gate-way."

"Yes," said Roy, quickly; "I will."  And he ran across to the door-way
at the foot of the big spiral, reaching it just as a shot came whizzing
overhead, and a heavy report followed.

"Third, and not one from us," muttered Roy, as he hurried up the
stairway to reach the platform at the top, and found Ben Martlet and the
troop-corporal from his father's regiment, each busy with one of the
guns, arranging wedges under the breeches, and assisted by the men told
off to work each piece, while two more now came to the turret door-way,
bearing fresh charges ready when wanted.

Ben looked up and smiled grimly as Roy appeared, and the boy cried,
excitedly--

"Three shots from them, and you doing nothing."

_Rush_!--_Boom_!

Roy ducked down his head, for the rushing noise seemed to be close over
him; and as he raised it again, flushing with shame and glancing sharply
round to see what impression his flinching had made on the men around,
Ben said, quietly--

"Four, sir; and you see on'y one hit us; the earthwork has thrown all
the others upward.  That last one was nigh to a hundred foot overhead."

"A hundred feet! and I flinched," thought Roy.  "But why don't you
fire?" he cried, aloud.

"Thought I'd wait for you, sir, and that you'd like the first shot."

"Yes, of course," cried the boy, excitedly.

"And we haven't wasted time, sir; corp'ral and me's been pretty busy,
getting what we thinks about the right depression of the muzzles, for
you see we're a good height up here.  I don't know that we shall be
right, but we can soon get the range; and if you'll begin now, sir, I'd
like you to try my gun first."

"Ready!" cried Roy, whose heart began to thump heavily.

"Like to take a squint along her, sir, first?" said Ben.

"No; I'll trust to your aim."

"Then, stand fast there!" cried Ben; and taking the port-fire from the
man who held it, he presented it to the young castellan, who glanced at
the earthwork, where he could see men busy, and a couple of squadrons of
troopers drawn up some distance back on either side; and then, setting
his teeth hard, he let the sparkling fuse fall softly on the touch-hole
of the gun.

There was a flash, a great ball of smoke, the gun rushed backward, and
the report seemed to stun Roy, whose ears rang, and a strange singing
noise filled his head.

Ben said a few words, and leaned over the battlement, sheltering his
eyes to watch the effect of the shot, as the smoke rose and began to
spread.  Then he turned and shouted something; but what it was Roy could
not hear, neither could he catch a word that was uttered by the
trooper-corporal, though the movement of his lips suggested that he was
speaking.

"Can't hear you," shouted Roy, as loudly as he could; and the man
smiled, and pointed to the port-fire and the second gun.

That was clear enough to understand; so Roy took a couple of steps
towards the breech, and as the men stood drawn up in regular form on
either side, he once more touched the priming.

Another flash, puff, and deafening roar, which he heard quite plainly;
and oddly enough it seemed to have had the effect of restoring his ears
to their customary state, for, in spite of the tremendous singing and
cracking going on, he heard the order given to the men to stop the
vents, sponge, and begin to reload.

"Just a shade more up," said Ben; "and yours wants a bit more than mine,
corporal.--See where the shot hit, sir?"

"I?  No," said Roy.

"Both on 'em just in front of their works, and covered 'em with earth
and stones.  They all bolted out.  Look, they're coming back again, and
they'll give us something directly."

"Yes," said the corporal, as the men went on loading; "and those shots
have shown 'em what we can do.  Look, sir."

"Why, they're drawing off those two troops of horse."

"Yes, sir," said the corporal; "and if Sir Granby Royland had been in
command they'd never have been there."

"No," said Ben, with his lips pinched together; "we could have bowled
over two or three of 'em with the guns, but I thought the captain would
like to have a try at the earthwork first.--For they're not soldiers,
Master Roy.--Are they, corporal?"

The trooper laughed.

"Just a mob of men scratched together, and put into jerkins and
headpieces, and with swords stuck in their fisties.  Why, there aren't
many of 'em as can ride," continued Ben.

The thought occurred to Roy that his own garrison was composed of
extremely raw material, but he said nothing, and Ben went grumbling on:

"I don't say but what they could be made into decent soldiers in time;
but they don't seem to have anybody much over them."

Just then a couple of shots were fired by the enemy, one of which struck
the tower with a tremendous crash, sending splinters of stone flying,
and a tiny cloud of dust rose slowly.  The other shot went whizzing
overhead.

"I wouldn't get looking over the edge, Master Roy, sir," whispered Ben.
"Some of those chips of stone might give you an ugly scratch.  But that
just shows what I say's right.  They haven't got the right man there or
he'd soon change things.  You see they've brought up their guns with
orders to batter down our drawbridge and smash the portcullis, thinking
they'll make you surrender.  Don't seem to come into their thick heads
that if they did manage to smash the bridge, they'd be no nearer to us
than before, because we should soon pile up a good breastwork, and pitch
every man back into the moat who swam across.  But, as I was going to
say, they've got their orders to batter down the bridge, and they keep
at it.  We've been hit up here, but only by accident; they never fired
straight at us.  Now, if you were in command out there, sir, you'd do
something different."

"I should fire straight up here, Ben, and try to silence these guns."

"Of course you would, sir; just as you're going to silence theirs."

"And the sooner the better, Ben.  They're nearly ready again."

"Are they, sir?  I can't see.  My eyes are not so young as yours.  Well,
we're quite ready; and if you orders, we're going to give it 'em in
earnest."

"Go on, then," said Roy, "and see if you can't stop their firing."

Ben smiled grimly, and bent down to regulate the aim he took, while the
same was done with the other gun.  The result was that the corporal's
shot went right through the embrasure of the piece to the left, while
Ben's went over.

As the smoke cleared away, a scene of confusion was visible; but the gun
on the right was fired directly after, and the shot plunged into the
bank of earth raised the previous night.

"Ah!" grumbled Ben; "you've got the best gun, my lad; there must be a
twist in mine, for she throws high."

"Like to change?" said the corporal.

"No.  I'm going to get used to mine and make her work better."

Shot after shot was fired from the gate tower, the men warming to their
work, and the results were very varied; for, in spite of the care
exercised and the rivalry between Ben and the corporal, the clumsily
cast balls varied greatly in their courses, so that at the end of an
hour's firing very little mischief was done on either side.  The enemy
had had their earthen parapet a good deal knocked about, and some men
had been injured; but all the advantage they had obtained was the
battering down of some scraps of stone, which lay about the front of the
great gate-way.

"Soon clear that away with a broom," growled Ben; "but I'm a bit
disappointed over these guns, captain.  We ought from up here to have
knocked theirs off the carriages by this time."

"We shall do it yet," said Roy; and during the next few shots he himself
laid the guns, taking the most careful aim.

"As I said afore, your eyes are younger and better than mine, Master
Roy, but you don't shoot any more true.--Hullo! what are they doing
there?"

He looked earnestly at the battery, where the men seemed to be extra
busy, and at a solid mass of troops marching on from some hundreds of
yards behind, straight for the castle.

"They're never mad enough to come and deliver an assault; are they,
corp'ral?" cried Ben, excitedly.

"Seems like it, sergeant."

Ben turned to Roy with an inquiring look, and he nodded.

"Do what you think best," he said.

What Ben thought best was to withdraw the great wedge which depressed
the muzzle of his gun, the corporal doing the same; and then, after a
careful aim-taking, both pieces roared out a salute to the coming
infantry, which was marching forward in steady array.

The balls went skipping along after striking the ground a hundred yards
or so beyond the enemy's battery, and, ricochetting, darted right for
the solid moving mass of men.  The effect was ludicrous, for in an
instant they could be seen from the tower to be in a terrible state of
confusion, breaking and running in all directions, and, as it were,
melting away.

"First time they've ever faced cannon-ball," said Ben, with a smile.
"I've seen better men than they after more training do the same.  They
won't do it next time, though."

As far as could be seen, few people were hurt; but the shots had their
effect, for the men, as they were restored to something like order, were
marched back behind a patch of woodland, and the duel between the two
pairs of guns was recommenced with a couple of shots from the battery,
both of which struck the tower high up.

"Aha!" cried Ben, with another of his grim smiles; "got tired, then."

"Does not seem like it, Ben," said Roy.

"Tired of plumping balls into our earthwork, and doing what they ought
to have begun with.--Come, corporal, it's time we did better."

"Let's do it, then," said the man, sternly.

"Look here, Master Roy," said Ben, in a low tone; "they've just sent out
two parties of horse to right and left, and it strikes me they're going
to try something on the other side of us when they meet.  Will you take
a round of the ramparts, and see as all's right, and keep the lads on
the lookout?"

"Let me fire these two shots first," said Roy.

He fired both guns, and there was a tremendous mass of earth sent
flying; but that seemed to be the only mischief done; and then as Ben
superintended the reloading, which began to be carried out now with a
fair amount of speed, he said, in a low tone--

"Now, capt'n, will you take a look round?  You ought to be everywhere at
once now."

At that moment a shot just grazed one of the crenelles, and hurtled away
close overhead, making the men wince, as it gave them a better idea of
the enemy's powers than they had had before.

"Yes, that's why you want me to go, Ben," whispered Roy.  "You think it
is getting dangerous here.  Thank you; I'll stay.  I daresay the men are
all right."

"Well, sir, I did think something of the kind; but it's real truth.  You
ought to be everywhere, and you must really give a look round and tell
'em to fire at any of the enemy who come too near, specially at the
troops of horse; it'll teach 'em to keep their distance."

Another shot struck the tower, and the splinters of stone rattled down,
making Roy hesitate to leave.  But he felt that the old sergeant was
right, and, descending to the ramparts, he visited the south-west tower,
where the men in charge of the guns awaited orders to join in the fray.
Then the north-west tower was reached, and here Roy encountered Master
Pawson.

"I am glad you've come," he cried.  "There's a strong body of horse
gathering over at the foot of the hill to the north."

"Whereabouts?" said Roy, hurrying through.  "Anywhere near the old
ruins?"

"Ruins? ruins?" said the secretary, looking at him in a peculiar manner.
"Ah, I see now: you mean those old stones on the top.  No; they are on
the level ground below.  Hadn't we better fire?"

"As soon as they come within reach, send a ball at them.  Let the gun be
well elevated, so as to fire over their heads.  We want to scare them
off, and not to destroy."

As he spoke, Roy ascended with the secretary to the platform, and there,
well within range, saw a strong squadron of horse approaching; while
Roy's keen eyes detected a flash or two as of the sun from steel in
amongst the trees at the foot of the hill.

"They have infantry there," he said.  "And these horse must be coming to
feel their way for them, and to see if we are prepared."

The men at the guns watched their young captain eagerly; and as soon as
he gave orders for one of the guns to be used as he had directed, he was
obeyed with an alacrity which showed how eager the people were to join
in the fray commenced on the other side of the castle.

A shot soon went whizzing overhead, and caused a general movement among
the horsemen; but they steadied again, and advanced.  Upon a second shot
being fired directly with the muzzle depressed, a little cloud of dust
was seen to rise in front of the advancing squadron, which was suddenly
thrown into confusion; and directly after the body of cavalry divided
into two and began to retire, leaving an unfortunate horse struggling
upon the ground; while after a close scrutiny Roy made out the fact that
two men were riding upon one horse in the rear of the right-hand troop.

The men on the tower gave a loud cheer, trifling as their success had
been, and were eager to fire again; but Roy was content to show the
enemy that the defenders were well prepared let them advance where they
would, for he knew that the slaying of a few men by a lucky shot would
not have much influence on his success.

He stayed till the men had disappeared beyond the trees on the hill
slope; and then, enjoining watchfulness, completed his visit to the
other towers, descended to report how matters were progressing to his
mother, who announced that her patient slept, and lastly hurried back to
where the enemy were pounding away at the gate-way, and Ben and his men
steadily replying.

"Hurt?" he cried excitedly, as he saw that one of the men had a rough
bandage about his arm.  "You had better go below at once."

"What! for that, sir?" said the man, staring; "it's only a scratch from
a bit of stone."

The injury was very slight; but during Roy's absence the enemy had
managed to send one shot so truly that it had struck the front corner of
the embrasure of the corporal's gun, and splintered away a great piece
of the stone, many fragments still lying about on the platform.

"Yes, sir; they're shooting better than we are, or their guns are more
true.  Our powder's good, old as it is; but it doesn't matter how
carefully we aim, we can never tell to a foot or two where the shot will
hit.  They won't go where we want 'em."

"Well, theirs will not either, Ben," said Roy, "or they would have done
more mischief to us than this."

"That's true, sir," grumbled the old soldier; "and after all said and
done, I don't think much of big guns.  If you could get 'em close up to
the end of a ridgement, and the men would stand still, you could bowl a
lot of 'em over like skittles; but there's a lot of waste going on with
this sort of firing, and if it warn't for the show we make, and which
keeps 'em off, we might as well sit down and smoke our pipes, and watch
where the balls went that they send."

"But you must keep on, Ben.  You may have a lucky shot yet."

"Oh, we aren't done so very badly since you went, sir!  Soon as they'd
done that bit o' damage to the top there, as'll cost Sir Granby a lot o'
money to repair, the corporal sent 'em an answer which made 'em carry
away four men to the rear."

"Killed?" said Roy, excitedly.

"Ah! that's more than we can say, sir.  They didn't send us word.  He's
got the best gun, you see, sir; and I don't take so well to this sort of
work.  I want a good horse between my knees, and your father ahead of me
to lead.  Why, if he was here with his ridgement, he'd take us along
like a big brush, and sweep this mob o' rebels off the country, as clean
as one of the maids would do it with a broom.  I say, sir; try your
luck.  The men like to see you have a shot or two.  You boys are so
lucky."

Roy tried and tried again as the day wore on, and the duel between tower
and battery went on, but tried in vain.  The men were relieved, and the
fresh relay kept up a steady fire, shot for shot with the enemy; but
nothing was done beyond knocking the earth up in all directions; while
as fast as the face of the battery was injured, they could see spades
and baskets at work, and the earth was replaced by more.  A
demonstration was made by the enemy on the sides of the castle, as if to
try what was to be expected there; but a shot or two from the corner
towers forced the horsemen to retire; and night was approaching fast
when Ben and the corporal relieved the men who had been firing all the
afternoon, and Roy was with them just as the old soldier took aim for
his first shot.

"I've given her an extra charge of powder, sir," he said.  "I'd ha' give
her a double dose, on'y it would be a pity to burst her.  Like to run
your eye along before she's fired, sir?"

"No; you try this time, Ben."

As Roy spoke, there was a tremendous crash, followed by the report of
the enemy's gun; and the rattling down of the splintered stone told how
heavy the impact of the shot had been.

"More damage," growled Ben.  "They're a-shooting ever so much better
than us, corporal."

The next minute he applied the port-fire, and the gun sprang back, as a
tremendous report followed.

"Made her kick quite savage, sir," said Ben, with a chuckle.  "She says
it's more powder than she likes."

He stepped to the embrasure as the smoke slowly rose, and gazed out at
the enemy's battery.

"Come and look, Master Roy," he said, with a grim smile.--"I say,
corporal, that's one to me."

The men raised a tremendous cheer, for plainly enough seen in the dim
evening light, the interior of the battery was in confusion; and as the
smoke quite cleared away, they saw that one of the guns was lying
several feet back behind the shattered carriage, and at right angles to
its former position.

"Give 'em yours now, my lad," growled Ben; and the corporal fired; but
his shot went right over the battery and struck up the earth twenty
yards behind.

"Depress the muzzle, man!" cried Roy.

"I did, sir, more than usual," said the corporal, rather sulkily.

"Yes, sir," said Ben; "he's a better gunner than me.  Mine was on'y a
bit o' luck, for I raised mine this time."

While the guns were being reloaded, Roy and his lieutenant watched the
proceedings in the battery, waiting to withdraw when the enemy seemed to
be about to fire.

But no further shot was sent roaring and whizzing against the tower,
and, night falling, it soon became impossible to see what was going on.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

A STARTLING PORTENT.

That same night the proceedings at the earthwork were repeated under
cover of a strong guard, the greater portion of the little garrison
being engaged in repairing and strengthening the great earthen bank from
the inner side; and this was carried out till dawn without the slightest
interruption.

When the day broke, the reason for this was plain, for the enemy's
battery had been carefully repaired; and just at sunrise a troop of
horse was seen coming from the encampment of the main body of the force,
half a mile away.  As they came nearer, it was made out why they
approached.  For the troop was the escort of a couple of guns, each
drawn by six horses; and an hour later a fresh embrasure was unmasked,
and there were three guns ready to try and solve the problem unsolved on
the previous day.

"Shall we hoist up another gun, Ben?" said Roy; but the old fellow shook
his head.

"No, sir; I don't see any good in it.  You know it's just a chance about
hitting, and though they keep touching us, what good do they do?  They
may hammer away at the gate tower till they've half knocked it down, and
it'll take 'em about a month to do it.  And what better will they be
then?  They won't stand an inch nearer to getting in than they do
to-day.  Let 'em fire.  You give 'em a shot now and then to tell 'em
you're at home.  Don't you waste more good ammunition than you can
help."

Roy took his lieutenant's advice; and for a week the siege went on with
the accompaniment of demonstrations of cavalry round the castle, and
approaches by night, all of which kept the little garrison well on the
alert, but did not advance the reduction of the stronghold in the least.

Sam Donny's wound progressed favourably; but the hospital-room was
occupied as well by three more men, all suffering from cuts and
contusions, caused by the flying chips of stones when a ball struck the
edges of the crenelles.

The routine of the defenders was becoming monotonous, mounting guard,
firing a little, and drilling a great deal; for Ben gave the men no rest
in the way of practising them in the management of their weapons.

The result was that the condition of the garrison improved day by day,
while Lady Royland grew more hopeful as she listened to her son's words.

"It can't last much longer, mother.  Either they'll get tired of trying
to drive us out, or some of the king's forces will come and relieve us."

Lady Royland shook her head the first time, but the second, Roy added--

"Look here, mother; the news is sure to reach London that we are being
besieged.  Then father will hear it; and do you suppose he will stand
still?  Either he will come himself, or see that help is sent."

Roy repeated his encouraging words one day at dinner, in the presence of
the secretary, a full three weeks after the enemy had sat down before
the castle, and Master Pawson laughed and rubbed his hands.

"They must give in," he said.  "They'll never take the place."

"Never!" said Roy, triumphantly; "But I say, Master Pawson, I'm going to
ask a favour of you."

"What is it?" said the secretary, eagerly.

"I want you to take a turn at the watch-keeping now and then."

"Keep watch?" said the secretary, staring.

"Yes, just now and then, so as to relieve a man and give the poor fellow
a good sleep."

"Master Pawson will, I am sure," said Lady Royland, gravely.  "He has
said that he would do anything he could to help us in our time of need."

"Of course, Lady Royland, of course," he replied, hastily.  "I only
hesitated because I am so helpless--such a poor creature over matters
like this."

"It doesn't want anything but to keep awake, and a sharp lookout.  You
ought to be able to do that, sir.  You've had plenty of sleep lately,
going to bed at nine, and sometimes at eight."

"Yes, I--I often go to bed very soon, Roy.  My head seems to require a
great deal of sleep.  I suppose it's from studying so much.  But I'll
come and keep watch--after to-night.  You will not want me to-night?"

"Why not to-night?"

"I don't feel prepared for it.  My head is bad, and I fear that I should
not be of much use.  To-morrow night, if you want me, I will gladly come
and take any duty you wish me to perform."

"Very well, Master Pawson," said Roy.  "To-morrow night, then.  I say,
though," he added, merrily, "you had better come to the armoury with
me."

_Bang_--_bang_! in rapid succession went the guns from the battery,
followed a moment or two later by the third.

"That's right!" cried Roy.  "Hammer away; only you might let us have our
dinner in peace."

"Yes," said the secretary, with a forced laugh; "they might let her
ladyship have her dinner in peace."

"Oh, mother!" cried Roy, "don't look so white and anxious.  You ought to
be used to the firing by now."

Lady Royland gave him a wistful look, and smiled faintly.

"They are only powdering down the stone; and I daresay the king will pay
for it all being done up again."

"No doubt he will," said the secretary.  "But you were saying something
about the armoury.  Shall I have to see to the men's weapons being
served out?"

"No," said Roy, merrily.  "I want you to select a helmet, breastplate,
and back-piece to fit you, and a good sword."

"Oh, no, no!" said the secretary, quickly.  "I am not a man of war."

"But you'll have to be, while you are on guard."

"Not like that.  I might wear a good sharp sword; in fact, I did pick
out one, and I have it in my room."

"Well done!" cried Roy, clapping his hands.  "There, mother, who's ever
going to think of surrendering when Master Pawson makes preparations
like that.--I say, don't be too hard on the enemy, sir.  Try and wound;
don't cut off heads."

"Ah, you are making fun of me, Roy!  But never mind.  Don't you forget
that by-and-by, when the fighting's over, I shall take my revenge."

"What--over lessons?  Very well.  I'm having a capital holiday from the
old Latin."

The bent of the conversation turned, and the dinner ended in a very
cheerful manner, for as time went on, Lady Royland could not help
feeling hopeful.  For want of the necessary war-material, the enemy
seemed to be able to do no more in the way of a regular siege, and their
efforts with the battery were becoming somewhat relaxed.  No more men
had been injured, and the sufferers in hospital were doing well.  In
fact, the general opinion in the castle was that before very long the
enemy would, if they found they could not starve the defenders out, give
up the attack, the castle being too hard a nut to crack.

That evening, while the firing was going on in a desultory way, Roy
visited the hospital, meeting the secretary on the way.

"You've been to see the poor fellows?" said Roy, smiling.

"Yes--yes--they look white and ill.  It is very sad, Roy.  Such fine
strong men, too.  But what do you think of my going to read to them for
an hour or two every day?"

"Not Latin?" said Roy, laughing.

"No, no, of course not.  Something about the old wars."

"Capital!" cried Roy.  "Do!"

"And I might take my viol over, and play to them a little."

"No, no; I say, don't do that," cried Roy.

"Eh?  Why not?  It would be so soothing."

"No; it wouldn't.  Only make them miserable.  They don't understand
sarabands and corantos; and you can't play jigs."

"No," said the secretary, grandly, but with a peculiar look.  "Perhaps
they would not appreciate good music.  And you are right; I do not
understand jigs."

He nodded and crossed to the door-way leading up to his room, and Roy
directly after encountered old Jenk.

"Hallo! where are you going?"

"Eh, eh?  Master Roy?  Oh, only up on to the platform to see the firing
for a bit!"

"I say, don't you get shot."

"Me?  Me?  No, sir; they won't hit me.  Look--look!" he cried, pointing
upward.  "Flag--ladyship's flag!  Blows out bravely.  See--we'll never
surrender."

"Yes.  Never surrender, Jenk.  Too good soldiers for that."

"Ay, ay, ay!" cried the old man.  "Too good soldiers for that.  Brave
boy!  Your father's son.  But you'll have my little gate-house built up
again, Master Roy, when they've gone, eh?  They've knocked it about a
deal.  But old soldiers don't mind scars."

"Oh, yes; we'll have it put right when we've made the enemy run."

"Yes, yes, make 'em run, Master Roy; and I'll tell your father what a
brave soldier Ben Martlet and I have made you."

The old man chuckled and went in at the door-way to mount the spiral
stairs, while Roy turned and looked up at the flag, well blown out by
the evening breeze.

"Poor old fellow!  Helped to make me a soldier, has he?  Well, it
pleases him to think so."

The lad ran his eye along the side of the court-yard, sadly trampled
now, and fancied he saw a head quickly withdrawn at one of the narrow
windows of the north-west tower; but he was not sure, and it did not
impress him then as he went on to the hospital-room, where the wounded
men received him eagerly, Sam Donny being the most demonstrative, and
ending by begging that he might be ordered on duty again.

"Another week at least, first," said Roy.  "Only too glad to have you
all back."

Roy stayed till it was dark, and he was descending to the court-yard
when a loud shouting below took his attention, and upon running out he
found a knot of men eagerly talking and looking up at the gate tower.

"What is it?  What's wrong?" said the boy, excitedly.

"The flag, sir," cried Farmer Raynes.  "Did you order it to be pulled
down?"

"I?  No!" cried Roy, excitedly.  "I said it was to be kept up night and
day.  Who has dared to do this?"



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

BY A TRAITOR'S HAND.

The last words were spoken as he hurried across to the door-way in the
gate tower; and before he reached the platform at the top, he could hear
Ben Martlet storming and shouting at the men, who were very silent; but
from the noise of footsteps it was evident that they were running to and
fro.

As Roy reached the top of the stairs, it was to find his exit on to the
platform blocked by Ben and the corporal, the former being decked with
the flag hanging over his shoulder like a mantle.  They were evidently
busy with the halyards at the little opening, down beside which the
flag-pole butt was fixed in iron loops, and through which window the
flag was hoisted and the halyards secured.

"What's the meaning of this?" cried Roy, breathlessly.  "The enemy will
think we have surrendered."

"Let 'em come, then, sir, and we'll show 'em we haven't," roared Ben,
fiercely.

"But why was the flag hauled down?"

"Wasn't hauled down, sir.  Come down with a run right on to the leads."

"What!  Did the line break?"

"I wish it had broke, sir.  You just look at that!"  And he held out an
end of the thin, strong hempen cord which ran through a pulley at the
top of the pole, and to which the flag was always attached.

"Cut?" cried Roy.

"Yes, sir; cut.  Some one has sawed through it with a sharp knife; and I
want to know who it was."

"Some one up here on the platform?"

"No, sir; I'll answer for that," said the corporal.

"Some one then in the ammunition chamber?"

"Nay; I don't believe any one there would do it, sir," growled Ben, who
was now busy splicing the line, which came swinging down by the window.

"How's that?" said Roy, eagerly.

"What--that rope, sir?  One of the lads has swarmed up the flag-staff,
and run it over the wheel again," cried Ben, who now re-attached the
flag, well above the splice, and began to haul it up again, the folds
gliding from his shoulder, and out of the window, to rise into sight
from the platform, where the men greeted it with a hearty cheer.

"Ha!" ejaculated Ben, as the colours reached the top, and he fastened
the line.  "That don't look like surrendering, sir."

"No, Ben; but I want to know who dared to cut it.  Who has been here?"

"No one but old Jenk, sir.  He came and stopped some time, standing in
the door-way, looking on and chattering to us a bit before he went
down."

"Oh, but surely he wouldn't have done such a thing as that, Ben!"

"So I say, sir.  If he did, it's quite time he was taken over to the
church, and buried, for he must be out of his wits."

"Oh, impossible!  He couldn't have done it.  Are you sure it was cut?"

"Well, sir, you see the end."

"It must have been frayed by rubbing against the edge of the parapet."

"Didn't look like it sir; that's all that I can say."

"Has any one else been here?"

"Not as I know of, sir; but we've been too busy to see, keeping our
faces to the enemy.  I thought I heard some one run down."

"Well, it was an unfortunate accident, Ben; but you've soon repaired
it," said Roy.  And he stepped out on to the platform to look aloft at
the flag, which was once more fluttering and flapping in the breeze; and
then he stepped upon a stone to gaze over towards the enemy's battery to
see if the lowering of the flag had had any effect there.

But all was quiet.  They had evidently ceased firing for the evening,
and the shades of night were descending so quickly, that the figures in
the rear of the earthwork were beginning to look dim and indistinct.
Away to the right, though, was a shadowy body which seemed to be moving
along towards where the enemy's camp lay, behind the wooded patch of
country; and Roy was not long in coming to the conclusion that it was a
troop of horse, returning from the neighbourhood of the battery.

He took a long sweep round, gazing hard at the beautiful wooded
landscape, and the soft calm of the hour, with the sweet moist odours of
evening which were wafted to him by the breeze, had a depressing effect.
He found himself thinking of what a sad business it all was, that the
peaceful district should become the scene of war and bloodshed--little
enough of the latter; but who could tell how soon a terrible assault
might be made upon the place, and their guns would have to be directed
so as to mow down the advancing enemy like the hay fell before the
mower's scythe.

Away to the west a bright planet was seen blinking in the dark grey sky,
but that evening it did not seem to Roy like a star of hope; and when, a
few minutes later, there came the faintly heard, mournful cry of an owl,
he turned away to descend to the ramparts and walk round so as to visit,
according to his custom, each tower in turn, where he was respectfully
questioned by the men as to the lowering of the flag, and whether it had
any meaning.

Roy laughed it off; but the fact of this incident impressing the men so
strongly had a bad effect upon him, and he found himself forced to make
an effort to fight it back before he joined his mother for the quiet
hour or so he always spent with her before going on duty or retiring to
rest.

But he was not to go straight to her; for on descending to the sadly
trampled garden, he found the secretary slowly walking up and down the
least-injured patch of grass, with his head bent, shoulders rounded, and
his hands behind him, clasped together as if they were manacled.

He started sharply as Roy came near, actually wincing, and looking
deadly pale.

"I wasn't going to hit you, Master Pawson," said Roy, with a smile.

"No, of course not; but all this firing has made me nervous.  I am
afraid I am not at all brave, Roy, and my head is so bad to-night, it
makes me worse.  I started just as if you were some enemy, and it sent a
shock right through me."

"Better now?" said Roy, mockingly.

"Oh, yes, better now; but I'm very glad I do not go on duty to-night.  I
think I shall go to bed very soon, and sleep it off."

"Best thing; but you'll come with me to have some supper?"

"No, not to-night.  Please make my excuses to my lady.  It's a sad thing
to be so weak of health, Roy.  Sadder still to see this lovely garden
spoiled by the trampling of armed men."

"Yes, it's a great pity," replied Roy; "but we'll soon set it straight
again as soon as the enemy's sent to the right-about; and who would not
sacrifice a few flowers for the sake of king and country?"

"Ah, who, indeed!" cried the secretary, with a slight flush coming into
his cheeks.  "Going?"

"Yes; I must join my mother now."

"And--er--are you on duty to-night?"

"Not till twelve o'clock," said Roy, frankly.  "Then I have to go my
rounds, and again at four.  I hope the enemy will not disturb us."

"How can they?" said the secretary.  "They cannot deliver an assault
without rafts and ladders, or with boats; and we should see their
preparations long before they could attack us."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Roy, thoughtfully.  "The only thing I dread is
a surprise."

"Surprise!" cried the secretary, starting violently.  "Don't say that."

"Sorry I did say it," replied Roy, smiling; "for it made you jump as if
you had been shot."

"Yes, Roy; sieges do not agree with me.  But whatever made you say
that?"

"Only because I think it possible, in spite of all our precautions, that
the enemy might find a way to get into the place; that's all."

"What a horrible idea!" faltered the secretary.

"Well, I suppose it is," said Roy; "but don't let it keep you awake
to-night, Master Pawson.  Perhaps it is impossible."

"Impossible?  Of course it is.  There, good-night.  I must go and lie
down."

"And I am late in going to my mother," said Roy.

"Then good--good-night.  Make your men keep the strictest of watches for
all our sakes, my brave young castellan!"

"I will," said Roy; and each went his way.

"Now, if I didn't begin to know that Master Pawson really liked me, I
should have thought he was sneering," said the lad to himself.  "I'm
always fancying people look down upon me because I'm such a mere boy.
But he's trusty enough, as he has shown us.  I wish he hadn't called me
`my brave young castellan,' though.  It sounds so sugary and oily.
Surprise--surprise?" he thought.  "No, they couldn't surprise us, unless
they got in by a secret passage; and if there were one, they would never
find it out.  If we couldn't, it isn't likely that strangers would.  I
wish Ben and I had had another big search.  All this put it out of our
heads.  I'll ask mother if she thinks it possible there is one.  No, I
will not," he said to himself, as he reached the door.  "It would
frighten her into fits.  She'd be too nervous to go to sleep, and want
me to let all the men search the dungeons, and make them nervous, too.
Bah!  It's only an old woman's tale.  I don't believe in such things."

He opened the door, to be welcomed by Lady Royland, who sprang from her
chair, and proudly monopolised the task of taking off her son's helmet,
cuirass, and back-piece, after unbuckling his sword.

"My duty, Roy," she said.  "The one I was proud to perform for your
father.  Ah, my boy, if he were only here that I might assist him now!
But no news, Roy; no news.  It is cruel work."

"No news is good news, mother," cried Roy, cheerily.  "Come and feed me,
for I'm terribly hungry again."

An attractive meal was waiting; and to have seen mother and son soon
after at the table, no one would have imagined that they were in a
beleaguered castle with a strong body of the enemy close at hand.

Roy sat till the clock struck nine, and then rose.

"Then you will get no proper sleep to-night, my boy?" said Lady Royland,
as she helped her son to resume his arms.

"Oh, yes; I shall lie down as I am, and jump up at twelve to take the
round.  I shall be back in my room in a quarter of an hour if the enemy
is quiet, and sleep again till four, when I go my round again.  I say,
isn't it wonderful how one wakes at the right time when one has had a
little practice."

"Roy, my boy, it is wearing you out.  Let me go and see if the men are
doing their duty to-night."

"What nonsense, mother!" cried the lad, merrily.  "Just as if this was
going to wear me out.  To-morrow night old Ben will make the round, and
I shall be snoring in my bed.  There, good-night."

"Good-night, my darling," cried Lady Royland, pressing him to her
breast.

"I say, what a hard-hearted creature I must feel with this on," said
Roy, laughing merrily.

"I never notice the cuirass," said Lady Royland, embracing her son
again.  "I only feel my boy's warm, true heart beating against mine."

She followed him to the door, and he turned and kissed her again, and
then hurried away, depressing his sword-hilt to keep the steel end of
the scabbard from clinking on the pavement.

"Why did I do that?" said Roy to himself.  "It was not as if--as if--Oh,
what nonsense!  It's the weather makes me feel low; and she feels low
too.  I was obliged to try and cheer her up."

He mounted to the battlements, whence he entered the room over the
guard-chamber where, according to custom now, Ben was waiting with his
lighted lantern, and wearing his long cloak, one side of which he threw
over the light when he took it up.

"All well, Ben?"

"All's well, sir.  Enemy as still as mice.  I'm beginning to think that
one of these mornings we shall get up and find they've gone without
saying good-bye."

"Hope you're right, Ben.  Ready?"

"Ready, sir."

"Then march."

They ascended to the top of the gate tower, where they were challenged,
and then descended to the rampart to be challenged by the sentinel
posted half-way between the towers, and again by the sentry on each
tower in turn.  It was everywhere the same.  The men were well upon the
lookout, and they had all the same report to give, that everything was
still and nothing had been seen.

"You'll have Master Pawson on duty to-morrow night, so as to relieve one
man, Ben," said Roy, as he completed his round.

"Won't relieve no man, sir," said Ben, sourly.  "I shall want one to
watch that chap to see that he don't do nothing foolish."

"Ah, you're prejudiced.  But I say, Ben, suppose we were surprised, how
long would it take us to man the walls?"

"Couldn't surprise us, sir," growled the old soldier.  "First alarm, the
men would be out of the rooms and up atop of the leads at the guns; and
all the rest would make for the ramparts, ready to run to any spot that
was attacked.  We're all right, sir, 'cept one thing."

"What's that?" cried Roy, anxiously.

"Old Jenk is worrying me, sir.  He's been wandering about the ramparts
to-night in a curious, crazy way, speaking to nobody, and acting
silly-like.  I'm pretty sure it was him as cut that line and let down
the flag."

"I'll talk to him to-morrow.  Good-night till twelve, Ben.  I'm tired,
and shall be glad of my rest."

"Good-night till twelve, captain," said the old soldier; and Roy went to
his room, took off helmet and sword-belt, and threw himself upon a
couch, to forget all his low spirits and troubles in less than a minute,
falling at once into a deep sleep, from which he started at the first
chime of the tower clock.

The little lamp was burning dimly now on the mantelpiece, but it gave
him light enough to buckle on his sword; and as he did so, the chiming
and striking of the midnight hour went on in the midst of what seemed an
unnatural silence, which impressed him.  The next moment his helmet was
on, and he stepped quickly out into the corridor, to find it full of
armed men, four of whom dashed at him as his hand flew to his side, and
he drew his sword.

It was a vain effort; his arms were roughly grasped, and the cry he
tried to raise was smothered by a hand pressed upon his mouth; while, by
the light of a lantern raised on high, he saw the figure of the
secretary, who stepped forward and took the sword wrenched from his
hand.

"Thanks, my brave young castellan," he said, mockingly.  "We will take
off your steel toys and gewgaws by-and-by.  One word, though," he said,
in a fierce whisper: "make the slightest sound, and you will be thrown
into the moat.  Be silent, and we will recollect that you are only a
boy, and treat you as one."

For answer, Roy threw all his strength into one desperate effort,
wrenched his head round so that it was clear of the hand pressed upon
it, and shrieked out the one word--

"Judas!"

The word seemed to cut into the wretched traitor's brain; and, raising
the boy's sword, he struck at him; but the blade glanced from the
perfectly tempered helmet, and the next moment one who seemed to be an
officer interposed.

"Prisoners are not treated like that, sir," he said, sternly.  "Which
way now?"

"This," said the secretary; and he led the way along the corridor,
towards the door opening upon the court-yard.



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A DARK NIGHT'S DEEDS.

At that moment, when Roy would have surrendered his life to have rung
out an alarm, the signal of danger, treachery, and hopeless disaster
rang out in the form of a shot from the battlements overhead, and this
was followed by another and another.  But as the prisoner was hurried
into the open air, armed men seemed to be gliding out of the darkness on
all sides, their source, as far as he could make out in those agitated
moments, being the bases of the towers.  Then, as the trumpet rang out,
fighting began all around the castle at once, not from the outside, but
from within.  Men had evidently crept silently up to the four towers,
and gathered there from the corridors to which they had been admitted;
and at the sound of the trumpet, a simultaneous attack was made, which,
coming from the unguarded rear, and in tremendous, constantly increasing
force, could not fail of being successful.

Roy stood there in the midst of his mother's once pleasant garden, with
the stars glinting over his head, and guarded by half-a-dozen troopers,
listening to the clash of steel, and the firing going on all round where
the little garrison made desperate efforts to maintain themselves.  But
they could not even grow stronger by joining, for the occupants of each
tower were isolated and driven back as they tried to communicate with
their officers, who, at the first alarm, tried to lead the men in the
guard-room to the gathering point selected in case of emergency.  Ben
had just lit his lantern, expecting the coming of Roy at twelve, when
the first shot came; and, shouting an alarm, he drew his sword to dash
out, but only to be hurled back, the door-way of the guard-room being
blocked by men; while, when the occupants of the chambers beneath the
platforms of each tower tried to descend, they, too, in spite of
desperate efforts, were driven upward by the constantly arriving
enemies, who forced them on to the leads by the now useless guns.

Here, in each case, a desperate encounter went on, which Roy, with his
blood running cold, was able to mentally picture, as he stood there
listening to the wild shouts of the attacking party, the defiant cries
of the garrison--the mere handfuls of men who tried to hold their own.

There was no more firing: all was being done with the keen-edged naked
blade for a few minutes; and this was followed by a wild despairing cry
from the gate tower, and directly after there was a dull, sickening
crash which told that a man had been hurled from the parapet into the
court-yard, where he lay never to move again.

The shock of this was succeeded by others nearly as terrible, as the
struggle went on at the tops of the different towers; and cry after cry
arose, followed by heavy splash after splash, which, Roy interpreted
rightly, meant that the victors were driving the defenders over the
battlements into the moat, to sink or swim for life as they could.

A mad feeling of rage and despair seized upon the boy as he heard all
this, and he struggled desperately with his captors in his endeavours to
escape, and try to aid the poor fellows fighting to the death in their
vain efforts to defend the place.

Vain, too, were his efforts; for a couple of men held him while others
wrenched his arms behind his back, and tearing off his gay scarf, bound
his elbows so tightly together that he could not stir, but had to listen
helplessly to the yells and despairing cries that arose towards the
silent vault of heaven.

It seemed to Roy like an hour of horror, during which he was listening
to what seemed to be the massacre of the men, every one of whom he
looked upon as a friend.  But it was only a matter of a few minutes at
the most, before a shout rang out from the top of the gate tower, to be
answered with a burst of wild "hurrahs" from the four corners, and the
ramparts as well; for the clashing of swords, the yells of rage, and the
sounds of fierce and desperate struggles going on had ceased.

Roy's despair was at its height; he knew that the castle was taken, and
its defenders killed, hurled into the moat, or captive.

But the boy's sinking heart gave one leap, for he knew that the
flickering fire of defence blazed up in one spot, and that was in the
guard-room, where he calculated that there must be twelve or fourteen
men, with Ben Martlet, Farmer Raynes, and the corporal.

He was nearly right to a man.  There were, including their officers,
twelve men penned up in the big stone chamber, where they had plenty of
arms and ammunition.  The others had their quarters in the five chambers
in the towers, and were stationed as sentinels.  All these had been
accounted for, save the wounded men in hospital.

And as Roy listened to the hurrying tramp of feet, there was gathering
silence on the ramparts, while around him, in the court-yard, hundreds
of men were united and drawn up in line.

Then, in the darkness beneath the gate-way, Roy heard a commanding voice
call upon the men in the guard-room to surrender.

"What?" came out clearly in a harsh, snarling voice, which Roy hardly
knew as Ben's.  "Do what?"

"Surrender, my man!  The place is taken."

"Yes, by cowardly treachery, Ben," yelled Roy, desperately.  "Don't give
in.  Fight to the last."

A man came hurrying up, and the secretary, fierce with passion, stood
before him.

"If this boy dares to speak another word, ram a gag in his mouth.--No,
not yet.--Here, bring him up to the gate."

Roy was half pushed and dragged to the great archway, and, as he reached
it, the clock chimed the quarter after midnight.

"Now, general," cried Pawson, "we'll have them out.  It's not worth
while to waste good men's lives to tear a set of mad rats out of their
hole."

"Well, get them out," said the same commanding voice, and in the officer
a short distance from him, Roy recognised the one he had met with the
flag of truce.

"Now, then, if you value your life," snarled Pawson in the boy's ear,
"order those fools to come out before we blow them to pieces with a keg
of powder.  Do you hear?  Come forward and speak!"

Roy felt a fierce desire to spit in the traitor's face, but he mastered
himself and stepped forward.

"Ah, you've come to your senses, then," said Pawson.  "Lucky for you, my
popinjay.  Now, then, tell them to surrender."

"Why?" said Roy, spitefully.  "They don't know what it means."

"Speak!" cried Pawson; and he pricked the lad with the point of his
sword.

Roy in those terrible moments had to fight hard to be dignified, as he
felt he ought to be, before the enemy; but the desire was strong upon
him, when he felt a slight prick in the side from the keen point of the
sword, to turn round and kick his aggressor with all his might.

Then he spoke.

"Sergeant Martlet, corporal, Farmer Raynes, all of you, I'm a prisoner,
and can't help myself.  There are two or three hundred men here.  Can
you hear me?"

"Ay, ay, sir; go on," cried Ben.

"They bid me tell you to surrender.  What do you say?"

"Let 'em come and make us.  God save her ladyship and the king!"

"Hurrah!" came rolling back from nearly a dozen lusty throats, and was
followed by a shout from Ben.

"Get back, Master Roy; we're going to fire."

"Then fire," cried Roy.  "Never mind me now."

Another cheer followed this; and there was a rattling noise which Roy
interpreted, for he knew that the men in the guard-room had seized the
pikes from the rack, and that a bristling hedge of steel was being
formed in the door-way.

Just then the officer in command stepped forward.

"Silence there!" he cried, in a loud clear voice.  "Listen to me, my
men.  The castle is taken, and I have four hundred men here.  You are
the only defenders left.--Sergeant Martlet, I suppose you are an old
soldier, and if so, you know this boy's words are madness.  Enough men
have perished, and I should be sorry to add your party to those who have
made so brave a defence.  Come, you have all done your duty, and your
case is hopeless; surrender, and you shall suffer no harm."

"When my captain tells me--not before."

"Well spoken, and like a brave man," said the officer; and he turned to
Roy.

"Now, captain," he said, and there was a touch of sarcasm in his voice,
"you don't want those stout fellows shot down, or smothered like rats in
their holes.  Tell them to give up their arms and come out."

"To a set of cowards who attacked us as you did with the help of that
treacherous dog!" cried Roy, passionately.  "No!"

"Hurrah!" was shouted from the guard-room door and Farmer Raynes roared
out:

"Well said, Master Roy; we'll beat 'em yet."

"Take that boy away," cried the officer; and Roy was dragged to one
side, where he heard the speaker again bid the party surrender; but only
received a shout of defiance in reply.

A few short, sharp orders followed; and Roy quivered with passion as he
saw from the brightening sparks that a party of men who tramped forward
were blowing the matches of their firelocks.

An order followed, and a ragged volley was fired in at the door, which
was answered by a cheer, and directly after by half-a-dozen shots and
some confusion among the attacking party, for two men staggered back and
fell groaning upon the stones.

The officer stamped his foot.

"Pikes and swords," he cried; and in obedience to his orders a little
column of a score of men dashed forward and tried to enter, thrusting in
their pikes; and as many as could get to the door striving desperately,
but only to be beaten back, and their discomfiture increased by a few
more shots.

The attack was resumed with fresh men again and again, but the defenders
fought desperately, and in every case the attacking party were driven
back with several men badly wounded.

"Block the place up and starve them out," said Pawson.

"No," said the officer sternly.  "The work must be done at once.
Powder," he cried to a couple of men near him, and a party marched off.

After a short delay, during which Roy looked vainly round for the
secretary, the latter appeared again with the men, one of whom bore a
keg.  To this a piece of fuse was attached ready for lighting, and the
officer walked to Roy's side.

"Look here, youngster," he said.  "I shall stand at nothing to complete
the reduction of this nest.  You see that keg of powder.  If these men
do not surrender at once, I shall treat them as desperate vermin and
blast them out or bury them, with perhaps half the tower upon their
heads.  It rests with you whether I shall kill a dozen or so of brave
men or spare them.  Which is it to be?"

Roy was silent.

"Come," said the officer, "I want to be merciful now.  You are Sir
Granby Royland's son.  He is a brave soldier, though mistaken in
defending a tyrant.  I tell you that when a cause is hopeless he would
act as I ask you to do.  Now you have well proved your courage, and you
spoke before in the rage of defeat.  Speak now as a brave officer who
would not willingly sacrifice his men.  What do you say?"

Roy said nothing, for his heart swelled with emotion, and the words
would not come.  The officer came closer, so that none other could hear.

"In God's name, boy," he whispered, "don't force me to do this brutal
act; I ask you as the son of a brave soldier.  Tell them to surrender
now."

The way in which these words came to Roy's ear achieved that which no
threats or insult would have done.  It was an enemy speaking, but
something told him that he was a brave soldier too; and without another
word Roy stepped up to the door-way, from whence a mistaken shot might
have laid him low.

The officer grasped this, and shouted loudly--

"Within there!  Don't fire!"

It was only just in time, for half-a-dozen muskets were presented.

The next moment Roy's voice rang out clearly:

"Sergeant Martlet, corporal, Raynes, all of you, we have done our duty,
and it is hopeless to fight longer.  You are the only men left.  To
resist is to give all your lives for nothing.  March out and throw down
your arms."

A groan rose from within, and a figure came to the door-way.

"Don't say that, Master Roy," cried Ben, hoarsely.  "Couldn't we do it
if we held out?"

"No; they will blow the place up.  The powder is waiting.  I am your
captain; I order you to surrender now."

"Master Roy!  Master Roy!" cried the old soldier in a piteous voice; "it
was no doing of mine.  I was on the alert.  Don't think it was any fault
of mine."

"Fault of yours, Ben?" cried Roy.  "No, nor mine neither."

"But how did they get in, sir?"

"By the secret passage that we could not find."

"But how?  Where can it be?"

"I've been thinking, Ben.  I don't know for certain; but it must open
into Master Pawson's room."

"And he let 'em through?"

"Yes; filling the corridors silently with troops while I slept."

"The traitor!  Then that was the signal, boy.  Oh, my lad, my lad, why
didn't I kill him when I thought it must be he?  What about repairing
the stone gallows now?"

"I--don't understand you."

"The lowering of the flag, sir--the lowering of the flag."

"Yes," said the officer, who had advanced to them unobserved in the
gloom of the archway; "that was the signal, sergeant.  You were betrayed
from within.  Step out now with your men, like the brave fellow you are.
Give me your hand; and let me tell you that I don't believe I could
have taken the place without."

"Am I to surrender, Master Roy?" said the old fellow, bitterly.

"Yes, Ben; it is all over now."

The hilt of a sword was thrust out as the old soldier held it to the
officer by the blade.

"Shake hands with that, sir," he said, bitterly.  "I'm a king's man
still.--Forward!"

This to his brave companions; and as they marched slowly out and gave up
their arms, a tremendous roar arose from all assembled in the
court-yard.

It was no derisive cry, no jeer at the conquered, but a full-throated
cheer of admiration for the brave little party, blood-stained, bandaged
roughly, three of them hardly able to keep their feet; and Roy's heart
once more swelled within him in spite of his despair, for he noticed in
the gloom that the officer in command took off his helmet as the men
marched by into the court; and then, as he replaced it, he said quietly
to Roy--

"All this is not necessary, sir.--Quick, one of you; untie this
gentleman's hands."

For the first time that night, Roy felt giddy and sick with pain.  But
he roused himself directly, for Master Pawson came up, and spoke quickly
in a low voice to the officer, who replied coldly, and with a ring of
contempt in all as he said, loudly--

"Of course, sir," he said, "in some things, by the terms of your
bargain, you are master here of the place and the estate.  All that the
Parliament desires is the destruction of the castle as a stronghold; but
as to the garrison, that is another thing.  We shall hold the place for
a time, and while I await further orders the prisoners will be my
charge."

He turned to give some orders, and the secretary turned to Roy.

"Yes," he said, "I am master here now of everything; so go and take off
all that tawdry rubbish.  You will never make a soldier, and I shall
tame down all this bullying haughtiness.  You never thought my day would
come when I was forced to put up with the insults and jeers of a
miserable cub of a boy.  But every man has his day.  Your party has gone
down at last, and mine is in power.  Ah, you may pretend not to hear me,
and that you treat everything I say with contempt!  Judas, am I, because
I saved bloodshed by a diplomatic stroke?  Well, we shall see.  You'll
come cringing to me soon."

"When my father returns, and, if you have not already been hung for a
traitor, he punishes you as you deserve.  Shall I cringe to you, then?"

"Your father," said Pawson, mockingly.  "Your proud swashbuckling father
is dead,--killed as he deserved, with scores of his fighting bullies.
You may look to me as your father now.  Your mother and I thought it
better to end this sham defence at once.  Hah! does that sting you?  I
thought I should manage it at last.  Yes, she thought with me.  A fine,
handsome woman still, Roy, and a clever one, though she did pet and
spoil her idiotic cub of a son.  But there, I forgive her, and we
understand each other fully now.  Ha, ha!  I thought that would touch
you home!"

Roy nearly staggered as he heard these words, and the next moment he
would have flung himself at the traitor's throat; but just then a
friendly hand was laid upon his shoulder, and the officer said--

"I have given orders for your wounded men to be seen by our doctor.
Meanwhile, you had better come with me."

He passed his arm through Roy's, and turned his back on Pawson, marching
the lad towards the private apartments of the castle; while the traitor
stood gazing after them, stung as deeply as his victim now in turn.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

"AND ALL THROUGH MY NEGLECT."

Seeing how completely prostrated his companion seemed to be, the officer
turned to him as they reached the entrance to the private apartments and
said, quietly--

"Perhaps you will show me a room where I and my officers can have some
refreshment.  We are starving.  You can tell your servants that they
have nothing to fear.  I will see that they are not insulted; and then
perhaps you would prefer to be alone."

"Thank you," faltered Roy, speaking in a strange, dazed way, as if he
were in a dream.

"Come, be a man, sir," said the officer, rather sternly.  "It is the
fortune of war.  A young soldier must not lose heart because he finds he
is a prisoner.  There, meet me at breakfast-time, and you and I will
have a chat together.  But listen first before you go: do not attempt
any foolish, reckless pranks in the way of trying to escape.  I tell you
honestly, the castle will be so guarded and watched that it would be
madness.--By the way, where are Lady Royland's apartments?"

Roy pointed to a door.

"Tell her when you see her that there is nothing to fear.  But Master
Pawson told me that he would place guards over her."

Roy drew a deep breath but said nothing, merely contented himself with
pointing out the dining-room and library to his conqueror.  Then he
stopped at his own door.

"Your room?  Very well; take my advice, and have a few hours' sleep,"
said the officer, opening the door, entering, and looking round by the
light of the dim lamp.  "Where does that big window open upon?"

"The garden,--the court-yard."

"And that narrow slit?"

"Upon the moat."

"Hah!  Good-night to you."

He strode out, and Roy stood where he had been left, with his head
throbbing as if it would burst from the terrible thoughts that invaded
it.

Directly after he heard the tramp of heavy feet, a few words delivered
in an imperious tone, and there was the heavy _rap, rap_ of a couple of
musket butts upon the oaken floor, telling him that guards had been
placed at his door.  His despair now knew no bounds, for he had
determined to go straight to his mother's chamber, and ask her if Master
Pawson's words were true.  Now all communication was cut off, for he was
a prisoner.

But his agony had reached its greatest height, and in a short time he
grew calmer; for light came into his darkened brain, and he told himself
he was glad that he had not been able to go and insult his mother by
asking such a question.

"It is horrible!" he said to himself; "and I must have been mad to think
such a thing possible.  Liar! traitor! wretch!  How could I think there
was the faintest truth in anything he said!"

Utterly exhausted, he took off his armour and laid it and his sword-belt
and empty scabbard aside.

"Done with now," he said, bitterly; and he sank upon the couch to try
and think whether he was to blame for not searching more for the passage
leading out beyond the moat.

"But I did try, and try hard," he muttered.  "No; I could not foresee
that the man chosen by my father would betray us.  It was my duty to
trust him.  It was not my fault."

Through the remainder of that night he sat there thinking.  Now
listening to the tramp of the sentries at his door and overhead upon the
ramparts, starting from time to time as he heard them challenge, and the
word passed on, till it died away; now thinking bitterly of the ease
with which they had been beaten, and of the men who must have fallen in
their defence.  Then, from utter exhaustion, his eyes would close, and
consciousness leave him for a few minutes as he sank back.

But he never thoroughly went to sleep, the act of sinking back making
him start into wakefulness, bitter and angry with himself for these
lapses, and in every case springing up to pace the room.

"Poor mother!  What she must have suffered through it all, and I
scarcely gave her a thought.  That wretch must have locked her in her
room or she would certainly have been seeing to the wounded."

The clock chimed and struck, and chimed and struck again, with Roy
counting the long lingering hours as they went on, for he was longing
for the day to appear, hopeless as the dawn would be.  But he wanted to
see the general, to beg that he might go to Lady Royland; and the time
when he would meet him seemed as if it would never come.

But at last the faint light began to dawn through the window, and, hot
and feverish, he threw it open, to look out across the court and over
the eastern ramparts at the coming signs of day, which grew brighter and
clearer till the sentinels upon the terrace-like place, and the
crenellations, stood out of a purply black plainly marked against the
sky.

There were at least twenty men marching to and fro where at the most he
had had two; and he groaned in spirit for a time as he went over again
the occurrences of the past night.  But far on high the sky began to be
dappled with orange and golden clouds, which increased in brightness
till the whole east was one glory of light, bringing with it hope; while
the soft cool breeze he drank in gave him fresh courage and the strength
to act the part he had to play,--that of one too proud to be cast down,
so that his men should speak of him ever after as his father's son.

"Better than being in one of the dungeons," he thought, as he indulged
in a good bathe, and dressed himself simply; after which he carefully
hung up his armour, with the helmet above, and longed for his sword that
it might occupy its old place.

"Better be lying rusting in the moat than resting in such hands as his,"
he muttered.

After spending some time at the window gazing across the court at the
windows of the long chamber used for the hospital, and at the opening to
the stabling down below, he fell to wondering as to how the poor fellows
who were wounded had passed the night; and this brought a shudder, and
he ran across to the little slit in the thickness of the wall to open
the tiny casement, and look down at the moat, peering to right and left
with starting eyes in expectant dread of seeing some ghastly sign of the
horrible struggle that had taken place upon the tower platforms.  But
the lilies floated peacefully enough, and displayed their great white
cups, and the fish played about beneath the leaves, making rings in the
smooth patches where they rose--rings which spread and spread till they
slightly swayed the reeds and rushes at the edge.

But he saw no dead white face gazing up at the sunlit heavens, and,
search the waters as he would, there was not a sign to send a shudder
through his frame.

All at once there was the tramp of feet overhead, and he went back to
the other window, where he stood and looked across, and on the eastern
rampart saw the guard relieved, the sun burnishing the men's steel caps;
and soon after, as he watched, wondering what the day would bring forth,
he heard the sentries at his door relieved in turn.

This ended, the echoes of the place were awakened by the blast of a
trumpet, and the boy stood looking in wonder at the strength of the
force drawn up in the court, and saw fully half of them march towards
the great gate-way.  Then he heard the drawbridge lowered, and the
heavy, hollow tramp of the men as they passed across.  Soon after, the
neighing of horses reached his ears, and then came the beating of hoofs
on the bridge, raising echoes from the walls at the other end, as a
troop rode in and were drawn up on either side--sturdy-looking fellows,
who sat their horses well, as Roy was fain to grant in spite of Ben
Martlet's disparaging remarks.

He was still watching the troopers and their horses, when he heard a
movement outside his door as if the sentries had presented arms; and
directly after the general strode into the room, with his stern,
thoughtful countenance lighting up as he encountered Roy's frank, bold
eyes.

"Good-morning," he said, holding out his hand.

Roy flushed, but made no movement to take it.

"As one gentleman to another, Roy Royland," he said, smiling.  "We can
be enemies again when we have fighting to do.  Come, we can be friends
now."

Roy felt drawn towards him, and he slowly raised his hand, which was
firmly gripped and held for a few moments.

"Ah, that's better!--Well, prisoner, how have you slept?"

"I?  Not at all," said Roy, bitterly.

"That is a pity, too," said the general.  "You ought to have slept.  You
had no guilty conscience to keep you awake.  You only had the knowledge
of duty done."

"And what about the poor fellows who fell fighting for us?  Would not
that keep me awake?"

"Ah, yes!" said the general, laying his hand on Roy's shoulder.  "That
is right.  Well, as far as I have ascertained, not a man failed to cross
the moat after his plunge.  There are some ugly wounds, no doubt, but
the doctor tells me that my men have suffered worse than yours, and he
does not anticipate that any of your brave fellows will even have to
stay in bed."

"That is good news," said Roy in spite of himself, for he meant to be
very stern and distant.

"Better than was given me, my boy.  There, come along; breakfast is
waiting."

Roy shrank back.

"I would rather have some bread and water here," he said.

"Indeed!  But I'm not going to feed my prisoner upon bread and water.  I
find you have plenty here, and that plenty you shall share.  Ah!  I see
you do not want to meet our friend Pawson."

Roy started violently, and changed colour.

"He will not be with us, sir.  Master Pawson prefers to stay in his own
chamber, and I am quite willing."

"My mother?" asked Roy, in agony.

"Keeps to her room, boy.  Her women are with her, and she knows that you
are safe."

"She knows that?" cried Roy.

"Well, yes.  I am what you would call a brutal rebel and traitor to my
king; but I have a wife who knows what anxiety is about her husband and
her son during this cruel war, and I took the liberty of asking an
interview last night, before going to rest, and telling Lady Royland how
you had behaved."

"Thank you, General--General--"

"Hepburn, my lad," and he caught the hand the boy held out.  "And let me
tell you that you have a mother of whom any boy should be proud--your
father a wife such as few men own.  She passed the whole night tending
the wounded and winning our doctor's esteem.  But come; I am hungry, and
so must you be too."

Roy followed him without a word, feeling that, prisoner though he was,
the salutes of the sentinels they passed were full of respect; and when
he reached the dining-room, in which about twenty officers were gathered
waiting their general's presence to begin, they rose like one man, and
pressed forward to shake him by the hand, making the boy flush with
mingled shame and pride, for had he taken the castle instead of losing
it, his reception could not have been more warm.

"Come," said the general, after their hasty meal was at an end, "you are
my prisoner, but I will not ask you to make promises not to escape.  You
can go about the castle; the men will let you pass anywhere within the
portcullis.  You will like to visit your wounded men, of course."

"And the other prisoners?" said Roy.

"I am going to parade them now; so come with me and see."

The strong force pretty well filled the square court-yard, but left a
vacant place in the middle into which the general strode; and then
giving his orders, there was a pause, during which Roy's gaze turned
involuntarily towards the little turret at the corner of the gate tower;
but no flag fluttered there, and he felt a pang as he gazed at the tall
pole with the halyard against it swayed by the wind.

But he had something else to take his attention directly as he glanced
round the walls.

There, standing at the window of the north-west tower, was the upper
part of the figure of Master Pawson, framed as it were in stone; and Roy
turned away in disgust as a hearty cheer arose, and he saw it was to
welcome the brave fellows, who marched from their prison of the night,
bandaged, bruised, and sadly damaged in their personal appearance, but
with heads erect and keeping step with Ben Martlet, who looked as if he
were flushed with victory instead of labouring under defeat.

The men were drawn up in line in the middle of the narrow square, and as
they caught sight of Roy just by the general, their military manners
gave place to a touch of human nature, for Ben nodded eagerly to his
young captain, and wounded and sound all waved steel cap or hand, Farmer
Raynes the latter in a left-handed way, for his right was in a sling;
and then all burst into a cheer.

Just then, behind the prisoners and over the heads of the line of
mounted men, whose horses' hoofs were trampling the flower-beds, Roy
caught sight of something white in the open hospital window, and his
heart leaped as his mother waved her handkerchief to him, wafting away
with it the last trace of the vile mist Master Pawson had raised around
her by his assertion.

Roy eagerly responded to the salutation, and then had his attention
taken up by the action of the general, who walked along the little line
of prisoners, who, to a man, returned his stern scrutiny with a bold,
defiant stare.  Then turning to Ben, he said--

"How many of these are disciplined soldiers, sergeant?"

"All of 'em far as we could make 'em," replied Ben.

"Yes.  But how many were in the Royalist army?"

"Three and me," said Ben.

"You three men, two paces to the rear," said the general, sharply; and
the three troopers stepped back.

"Nay, nay!" shouted Farmer Raynes, angrily.  "Share and share alike.  We
were all in it; and I say if you shoot them, shoot us, too;" and he
stepped back, the others after a momentary hesitation following his
example.

There was a murmur in the Parliamentary ranks as the men witnessed this
little bit of heroism, and the general shouted his next order in a very
peremptory way.

"Attention!" he cried, addressing the prisoners.  "I do not shoot brave
men in cold blood, only cowards and traitors."

"Then have that hound down from yon window, general," cried Ben,
excitedly, pointing to where Master Pawson stood looking on, "and shoot
him.  Nay, it's insulting good soldiers to ask 'em to do it, sir.  We've
an old stone gallows here on the ramparts; have him hung."

A yell of execration burst from the prisoners, and the ex-secretary
disappeared.

"Silence!" cried the general.  "Attend there.  You, sergeant, and you
three men, will you take service under the Parliament, and keep your
ranks with the promise of early promotion?"

"Shall I speak for you, comrades?" asked Ben.

"Yes," they cried together.

"Then not a man of us, sir.  We're Sir Granby Royland's old troopers,
and we say, God save the king!"

The general made a sign, and the four men were surrounded and marched to
one side in the direction from whence they had been brought; while at
another sign, the rest of the prisoners, with Farmer Raynes at their
head, closed up in line.

"What are you?" said the general, sternly, beginning with the sturdy
tenant of the estate.

"Farmer."

"And you?"

"Butler."

And so all along the line, each man making his response in an
independent, defiant tone.

"Will you come and serve the Parliament?" said the general.  "I want
strong, brave men."

He looked at Farmer Raynes as he spoke, but glanced afterwards at every
man in turn.

"Then you must go and look for 'em somewhere else, squire.  You won't
find a man on Sir Granby Royland's estate."

A murmur from the rank showed how the rest acquiesced.

The general made a sign, and a squad of musketeers surrounded the men.

"Go back to your homes, my lads; but remember, if you are found in arms
again, you will be shot.  Escort these men beyond the moat."

Farmer Raynes turned sharply to Roy.

"Can't help ourselves, captain," he cried, loudly; "but shot or no,
we're ready when you want us again.--Good-bye, Martlet, old comrade.--
Take care of him, general, for he's as fine a soldier as ever stepped.--
Now, my lads, three cheers for my lady, and then march."

The prisoners burst into a hearty roar, and were then escorted through
the gate-way and over the drawbridge beyond the strong picket stationed
by the earthwork.  Here they cheered loudly again.

"Hallo! who are you?" said the general, sharply, as his eyes lit upon
the flowing white hair and beard of the tottering old gate-keeper, who,
fully armed, and with his head erect, took a few paces forward from
where he had stood before unobserved.

"Sir Granby's oldest follower, and his father's afore him," said Jenk,
in his feeble, quavering voice.  "Do I go with Ben Martlet and t'others
to the prison?"

"No," said the general, shortly; "stop and attend to your young master,
and mind you don't get playing tricks with that sword."

"But I'm a soldier as has sarved--"

"Silence, Jenk!" said Roy, hastily stepping to his side.  "You must not
desert me; I'm quite alone now."

"Oh, very well, if it's like that, sir, I'll stop with you," quavered
the old man; and he stepped stiffly behind his young master, unconscious
of the smiles and whispers which arose.

Half an hour later the new garrison had settled down to its quarters;
the three heavy guns from the battery had been brought in and planted in
the gate-way to sweep the approach, and Royland Castle was transformed
into a Parliamentary stronghold, protected by whose guns a little camp
was formed just beyond the moat, and occupied by the cavalry of the
force.

Ben and his three comrades were placed in a room opening on the
court-yard, with leave to go anywhere about the quadrangle, with a
sentry placed over them--hardly a necessity, for they were all suffering
from wounds, of which, however, they made light when Roy went to them,
setting him a capital example of keeping a good heart.

Then, finding himself fully at liberty to go where he pleased, the
sentries saluting and letting him pass, Roy made for the hospital-room,
longing for and yet dreading the interview, fearing as he did to witness
his mother's despair.

To his surprise, as she eagerly caught his hands in hers, her face was
wreathed in smiles, and she strove to comfort him.

"Defeated, Roy; but even your enemies honour you for your brave
defence," she whispered.

"Ours, mother; not mine only," he said.  And then, feeling that he could
not even allude to the traitor who carefully kept out of his way, he
went round to the men's beds with Lady Royland.  The place was pretty
full now, but in spite of serious wounds the room looked cheerful, and
the men of both sides received them with smiles.  There was only one sad
face, and that was Sam Donny's, for he had taken to his bed again, "from
weakness," Lady Royland said.

She passed on to the next bed, and Roy sat down by the poor fellow for a
few minutes, to take his hand, gazing the while in his drawn and
wrinkled face.

"I'm very, very sorry, Sam," Roy said, gently.  "Come, you must try and
get right again."

"Yes, captain," said the man loudly, with a groan.  "I was to have been
out in a few days if I hadn't turned worse.  This doctor don't
understand my case."

"What is it?" said Roy, anxiously.  "Has your wound broken out again?"

"Nothing at all," whispered the man, with his eyes twinkling.  "I'm
nearly as right as you are, sir; and when you want me, here I am."

"What?"

"Hush!  Don't look like that.  I'm gammoning my lady, so as they shan't
send me away like t'others.  You've got a strong man here when you and
Ben Martlet wants to make a fight for it again.  Oh-h-h!"

He groaned as he saw one of the wounded Parliamentarians looking in
their direction, and Roy rose hurriedly and joined his mother, feeling
as if he were playing false.

They finished their round of the place, and then went out into the
corridor to talk.

"Don't speak about our disaster, Roy," said Lady Royland, clinging to
his hand.  "We must bear it, and your father cannot blame us for our
reverse.  There, I shall be busy here, and we must be thankful that we
have fallen into the hands of General Hepburn, whose kindness and
consideration are far more than we could have expected.  He has only one
fault--he is an enemy."

"Then you don't blame me for feeling as if I half liked him, mother?"

"We can like the man, Roy, without liking his principles," said Lady
Royland, calmly.  "Come and see me as often as you can; I shall
generally be here, but I suppose you can come to my room sometimes."

"I suppose so," said Roy.  "I believe I am to keep mine."

"Yes; General Hepburn told me you should; but, Roy, you will be
careful."

"What--about trying to retake the place?"

"It is impossible, my boy.  But I did not mean that; I meant about
encountering that man--no, he is not a man," she cried, with an angry
flash of her eyes.  "He has taken possession of the library and the
state-room, for he made a bargain with our enemies that his reward for
delivering up the place was to be that he should retain the estate
afterwards."

"And they wanted the stronghold put down, and agreed," said Roy.  "Yes;
I pretty well know all, mother.  Of course you have heard how he got the
men in?  All through my neglect?"

"Yes, Roy!  No, Roy, there was no neglect!  We could not know of that
communication."

"I did; but I could not find it.  Oh, how that villain did cheat--"

Roy got no further, for his mother's hand was laid upon his lips, and
they parted directly after, her last words being:

"Don't think of it, Roy; our position is a happy one compared to his.
Even the enemy look upon him with disgust."

"And I was ready for a few moments to believe all he said," thought Roy,
as he returned to the court-yard with a strong desire now in his mind,
one which grew minute by minute.  He only waited for a favourable
opportunity to make his request.



CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

OLD JENK'S MIND IS TROUBLED.

Two days passed before Roy was able to ask what he wanted.  For during
this interval General Hepburn seemed too much immersed in affairs to
more than give him a friendly nod when they met at meals.  Men were
being constantly sent out with despatches, and others came.  Then the
cavalry regiment was always going and coming, "sweeping the country,"
Ben said, when Roy sat talking by the old soldier, who was more injured
than he would own to, and spent most of his time on a stone seat in the
sun.

"Tchah! not I, sir," he said, peevishly.  "My lady's got her hands full
enough.  We chaps know how to manage with clean water, fresh bit o'
linen, and keep quiet in the sunshine, and natur' does all the rest.
We're getting on right enough.--Eh, comrades?"

"Couldn't be better," said the corporal.  "Soon be ready to begin again,
Master Roy, when you see your chance."

Words like these, and a hint or two again and again from the sick men in
the hospital, could not fail to set ideas growing in Roy's brain; but
everything was confused and misty yet, and the time went on.  Poor old
Jenk crept up to the four men, and always had the sunniest spot in the
corner given to him, and here he would settle himself, nursing his sword
in his lap, and go fast asleep.

"Yes, sir," said Ben, one day; "you see he's so very old.  I believe
after all he's a hundred, and it's a honour to him, I say.  Mean to live
to a hundred myself if I can.  But see how he sleeps; I don't believe
he's quite awake more than three hours a day, and I dessay he'll just
come to an end some time in his sleep."

"Poor old fellow," said Roy, softly, as he laid his fresh young hand
upon the gnarled and withered fingers that rested upon the sword across
the old man's knees.

"Ah, he has been a good soldier in his day, Master Roy, but it's rum how
he can't see that he's not a fine strong man now!  Why, you might really
nigh blow him over, and all the time he keeps on talking about what he's
going to do to Master Fiddler as soon as he gets a chance."

"What! he doesn't threaten to attack him?"

"Don't threaten, sir?" said Ben with a chuckle.  "But he just do; and
then he's going to retake the castle singlehanded."

"But he mustn't have a sword; he'll be making some trouble."

"Well, if he makes an end to Master Pawson, sir, I think he may just lie
down and die at once like a regular hero, for he'll have done the finest
thing he ever did in his life."

"Oh, nonsense, Ben!  You and all of you must mind the poor old fellow
does nothing foolish."

Ben growled and shook his head, for his ideas were not at all in
accordance with his young master's.

"You need not look so sour, Ben," Roy hastened to say.  "Master Pawson
will get his deserts some day."

"Yes, sir," said the old soldier, sourly; "his sort generally seem to in
this precious world.  His deserts seem to be your father's fine old
property to wallow in, and get fatter and rounder-faced every day.  He'd
better not go and sit and read big books belonging to your father atop
of either of the towers when I'm nigh, sir, for I'll pitch him off as
sure as he plays the fiddle."

The men laughed.

"Oh, you may grin," said Ben, "but I mean it.  You know, I s'pose,
Master Roy, as they've emptied his room and carried everything into your
father's library,--fiddle and all.  Oh, how I should like to smash that
caterwaulin' thing!"

"I did not know it, Ben," said Roy, thoughtfully.  "I keep away from
there as much as I can.  But I say, Ben," he continued, smiling, as he
laid his hand upon the old soldier's knee, "your wound is hurting you a
good deal to-day."

"Awful, my lad, awful; it's getting better, but it feels as if a hungry
dog was gnawing the bone."

"I thought so."

"Why, how did you know, my lad?" said Ben, innocently.

"Only by your manner.  But look here," continued Roy, "I want very badly
to see that place where the enemy got in."

"Ay, and so do I, sir.  I've lain awake at nights with that place
worrying me more than my big chop as ought to ha' been well by this
time.  I don't understand it yet, only I expect as he let 'em in.  So he
filled all the long underground passages with the men, and got 'em there
ready to go up the towers when the signal was given?  I daresay he give
it with his miserable squeak of a pipe."

"I'm going to ask General Hepburn to let me see the place."

"And he won't let you, of course.  You'll have to give the sentries
something, and perhaps they may."

"No; I'm not going to do anything underhanded, Ben.  I shall ask the
general himself."

"Oh come, I like that, sir," said Ben, derisively.  "He didn't do
anything underhanded along with Fiddler Pawson, did he?"

"Wound shooting, Ben?" said Roy, drily.

The old soldier chuckled, and the boy rose and went straight to the
general's snug quarters in a little place adjoining the dining-room to
prefer his request.



CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

THE WAY IN AND THE WAY OUT.

The sentries challenged Roy as he went along the corridors, and it made
his heart ache for this to take place in his own old home; but as he was
passed on directly, he drew himself up, went to the door, knocked, and
the general's deep hard voice cried, "Come in."

General Hepburn was seated at a table writing, but he threw down his pen
as he saw who it was, and smiled.

"What can I do for you, my restless prisoner?" he said.

"I want you to give me a pass for the sentries, so that I can go and
examine the passage through which you brought your men that night, sir."

"Why?  What for?"

"Out of curiosity.  Isn't it natural, sir, that after being here all my
life, and then tricked like that, I should want to know how it was
done?"

"Yes," said the general, abruptly; and he took up his pen and wrote
something upon a piece of paper, swept some pounce over it, shook it,
and gave it to his petitioner.  "You can go and see it."

"And take Sergeant Martlet with me, sir?  He was my lieutenant and
adviser."

The general snatched the paper back, wrote in a line, and once more
handed it.

"Yes," he said; "but I must be strict, boy.  You will have a sergeant's
guard with you all the time."

"Of course," said Roy; "but I am not going to try and escape to-day."

"No," said the general, smiling, and taking up his pen again; "you are
not going to try and escape to-day."

As Roy went away, the guard was being changed, and the place rang with
the tramp of men, the officer on duty visiting the different posts and
examining everything in the keenest way.

"Ah, they're doing it right enough, Master Roy," said Ben; and the lad
started, for he had not heard the old sergeant's approach.  "Taking a
lesson?"

"I was watching them, Ben."

"Ah, and if they warn't enemies, and taken our place, I'd say the
general was a thorough good soldier, and knew what he was about."

"You do think that, then?" said Roy, who was glad to hear his own ideas
endorsed.

"Course I do, sir.  I growled and grumbled because I'm sore; but it does
one's heart good to see the fine discipline, and the way in which they
work our guns.  He didn't seem very clever at managing his horse, but I
s'pose he was right, for sorry am I to say it, he's made the castle
twice as strong as it was, and only by having his men in such order."

"Yes; everything goes like clockwork, Ben," said Roy, sadly.

"Better, sir; clocks get out of order; garrison like this don't.  A man
or two may go wrong, but there is always more to take their places.  We
did our best, and was very proud of it, sir; but it's one thing to have
three trained soldiers for your garrison and to make it stronger out of
such men as you can get together, and another thing to march in as many
as you can make room for, and all well-drilled.  There, it's of no use
to grumble, sir; we did wonders.--So the general won't let you go and
see the fox's hole?"

"Yes, he will, Ben.  I have the pass here to present to the officers on
duty."

"Why didn't you say so before?" cried Ben, sharply.  "Come along, then,
sir.  I wouldn't go and say anything to them yonder, because they might
feel a bit jealous."

Roy nodded, and followed by the old sergeant he walked straight to the
guard-room, presented his paper, feeling all the while how strange it
was to have to ask permission in his own old home.  But he had no time
for thought.  The officer promptly called out a sergeant, and selected
four men, and with them for guard, Roy and Ben led across the court to
the entrance of the north-west tower.

Roy felt eager and yet depressed as they passed in, the sergeant leading
and going up the spiral stairs to Master Pawson's old room, which was
partly dismantled now, and the furniture left just sufficient to provide
seats and a table for a dozen men who used it as a second guard-room.

"You don't know the way out and in by this passage, then, sir?" the
sergeant said.

"No," replied Roy, who was examining the walls.  "I have no idea where
it is.  Surely it can't be here?"

"Take a look round, sir; perhaps you'll make it out."

Roy did look round--an easy thing to do in a round chamber--but the
door, the one large cupboard, the locker in the window, and a broad
oaken panel over the mantelpiece were examined and in vain.  The last
took his attention the most, looking as if it might be a low door-way,
and sounding hollow; but he could make nothing of it, and he fell to
examining the wainscot in other parts and the floor boards.

"Better give it up, sir," said the sergeant, smiling.  "I don't suppose
any one would find it out unless it was by accident.  Shall I show you
now?"

"No," said Roy, who was on his mettle; and he examined the whole place
again, beginning with the locker in the window, opening an oaken
box-like contrivance in which lay a few of the soldiers' cloaks for
which there was no room on the nails and hooks lately driven into the
wall.

But after a quarter of an hour's keen search, Roy gave it up.

"I am wasting time," he said.

"Yes, sir," said the sergeant; "but, as children say at play, you were
burning more than once."

Roy felt disposed to renew his quest, but he refrained, and the sergeant
went to the casement window, and as Roy watched him, opened it till it
stood at a certain angle, which allowed him to thrust down a pin and
secure it--a simple enough thing to do, and apparently to keep the wind
from blowing it to and fro.

"That unlocks the trap-door, sir," said the man.  "If you open it more
or less, it doesn't act.  Look here."

He opened the lid of the locker, and turned a catch over it to keep it
from shutting down again, then threw out the cloaks.

"Now pull up that end, sir."

Roy took hold of the panelled oaken side of the locker on his left, and
to his astonishment the end of the coffer-like affair glided easily up,
bringing with it one end of the oaken bottom; while the other end,
turning upon a pivot on the middle, went down, laying open a square
shaft going at a slope apparently into the thickness of the wall.

Roy uttered an ejaculation of wonder, while the sergeant struck a light,
lit a lantern, got feet first into the locker, and let himself slide;
and they saw him descend a dozen feet at an easy slope, stand upright,
and hold the light for them to follow and stand by him in a narrow
passage with an arched roof.

"Easy enough, when you know how," said the man.

"Ay, easy enough, when you know how," growled Ben, while Roy examined a
short, stout ladder hanging from a couple of hooks by the arched
ceiling.

"For going back?" he said.

"Yes, sir," was the reply, as the sergeant moved forward a few steps to
allow his men to follow, which they did as if quite accustomed to the
task.

The narrow passage ended at the top of a spiral staircase just wide
enough to allow a man to pass along, and down this he went with a light,
the others following, till they had descended to a great depth.

"Hundred steps," growled Ben, as they stood now in a square crypt-like
chamber, with a pointed archway in the centre of the wall at one end.

"There you are, sir," said the sergeant, holding up the lantern, "cut
right through the stone.  It's as dry as tinder, though it does go
straight under the moat.  Isn't it strange that you didn't know of
this?"

"Strange!" cried Ben, taking the answer out of his young master's lips;
"why, I didn't know anything about it myself.  I mean, where it was."

Roy was silent, for he was thinking of how easily the passage could have
been blocked, or a few men have held it against a host.

"Want to go any farther, sir?" asked the sergeant.

"Farther?  Yes!" cried Roy, excitedly.  "I want to go right to the end."

"Long way, sir, and it's all alike.  It comes out in the old ruined
place at the top of that little hill."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Roy.  "Lead on, please."

The sergeant went forward with the light, and Roy followed, whispering
to his companion as they went along.

"Oh, Ben, if we had only found it out!"

"Ay, sir.  If we had only found it out; but it wanted a man like Master
Pawson."

"Why, Ben," cried Roy, who had a flash of inspiration; "he must have
found out about it in one of those old books from the library, one of
those which tell about the building of the castle."

"Why, o' course, sir!" growled Ben; "and you, with all those books to
look at when you liked, and not find it out yourself."

"And I know the very book," cried Roy, "and have looked at the pictures
in it scores of times.  But, I remember now, I have not seen it since
that wretch has been here."

They had to increase their pace, for the sergeant was striding along
over the fairly level floor, which had doubtless been lately cleared,
for the lantern showed where portions of the arched roof had shaled off,
though much of it was in almost the same condition as when it was
laboriously chipped away with the mason's hammers, whose marks were
plainly enough to be seen.

"Seen one bit, we've seen all, Master Roy," said Ben at last in a
disgusted tone; "but it don't want a trained soldier to take a castle if
he's got a way in, made ready for him like this."

But they proceeded, and went right to the end, which was carefully
masked in the ruin of the old chapel.  But some time before they reached
the other opening they were challenged, and Roy felt no surprise on
finding a strong body of horse bivouacked in the ancient ruin.

On the way back to the castle Roy gleaned a few facts from the sergeant,
which only, however, endorsed those already gathered,--to wit, that the
ex-secretary had been holding communications with the enemy for some
time before they came to terms, visiting the camp again and again at
night, and eluding the vigilance of those who tried to follow him,
dodging, as he always did, and then doubling back and reaching the ruins
where they were not watched.  It was not until General Hepburn had
realised that it would be a very long and tedious task to reduce the
castle, and only to be achieved at the cost of much bloodshed, that he,
after communication with headquarters, came to Pawson's terms, and then
the result was immediate.

Roy's first step on returning was to seek Lady Royland and tell her of
his visit, at the same time asking her opinion about the book, which she
remembered at once.

"Yes," she said, at last; "if ever we find that book again, we shall
read the story of our ruin there."



CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

ROY HEARS THE SIMPLE TRUTH.

A month had passed, and the prisoners knew nothing of what was going on
in the outer world.  Now and then rumours floated to Roy's ears through
different channels of how matters progressed in the country, but they
were rumours which, Lady Royland pointed out, could not be trustworthy.
One day it would be that the king was carrying everything before him,
and that the rebellion was nearly stamped out; while on another they
heard that the Parliamentarians held the whole country, and the king
hardly had a follower left.

The moat embraced the world of the prisoners during their captivity, and
they knew what went on within its enclosure,--little else.

"We must wait patiently, Roy," said Lady Royland.

"Yes, mother," he replied, with a smile full of annoyance; "we must
wait, but I can't do it patiently.  In the old days I could fish and
climb after the jackdaws' nests, and make excursions, and read; but I
can't do any of those things now.  I only seem able to think about
escaping."

"Well, my boy," said Lady Royland, sadly--one day when Roy said this for
perhaps the twentieth time, and she looked at him with a pained
expression in her eyes--"I know how hard it must be for a young bird to
beat its wings, shut in by a cage.  Escape, then.  You may be able to
find your father.  But at the least you will be free."

Roy thought of Pawson's words about his father's death, but mentally
declared it was a lie like the other assertion, and burst out into a
mocking laugh, which made his mother look at him wonderingly.

"Escape?" he said.  "I say, mother, do you know I've often thought how
easily I could get on to the ramparts, slide down a rope, and swim
across the moat."

"Yes, I am sure you could," she said, eagerly, but with the pain in her
eyes growing plainer.  "Well, it would be bitter for me to part with
you, but go."

Roy laughed outright once more.

"Why, you dear, darling, silly old mother!" he cried, flinging his arms
about her neck, and kissing her; "just as if I could go away and leave
you here.  I should look a nice young cavalier when I met my father--
shouldn't I?--and he asked where I had left you.  No!  I'm only
grumbling like old Ben does about being shut up, though General Hepburn
does treat us very well."

"Yes; no gentleman could behave to us with more consideration, my boy."

"But why doesn't father or the king, or some one of his officers, come
and attack this place?  All this time gone by, and the general here
seems to hold the country for miles round, and all the gentry are
friendly to him.  Do you know Parson Meldew was here yesterday to see
the beast?"

Lady Royland looked at him wonderingly.

"Well, I can't help calling him that.  He is a beast, and he lives in a
den.  No one seems to associate with him.  I believe he hates the
general, but the general told me one day that Pawson was not good enough
to hate."

"Don't mention his name in my presence," said Lady Royland, sternly.

The conversation came to an end, Roy walking off into the court-yard, a
garden no longer, to see a squadron of horse drawn up before starting
upon some reconnoissance.

They rode out to the sound of the trumpet; and as the horses' hoofs
echoed on the lowered bridge, and mingled with their snorting and the
jingle of the accoutrements, Roy felt his heart burn within him, and the
longing to be free grew almost unbearable.

As the drawbridge was raised again, a grunt behind him made the boy turn
sharply, to face the old sergeant, who had come up, his step unheard
amidst the tramping of the horses as they passed over the planks.

"Sets one longing, sir, don't it?" said Ben.

"Ay, it does," said Roy, sighing.

"'Tick'larly at your age, sir.  Why, I almost wish my wound hadn't got
well.  It did give me something to think about.  If I go on with nothing
to do much longer, they'll have to dig a hole to bury me."

"Nonsense, Ben!"

"No, it aren't nonsense, sir; for you see I always was a busy man.  Now
there's no armour to polish, no guns to look after, no powder-magazine
to work at, and no one to drill.  I'm just getting rusty, right through
to the heart."

"But you've been weak and ill, Ben, and a rest does you good."

"No, it don't, sir.  Does t'others good; and thanks to my lady and the
doctor, every one's got well 'cept Sam Donny, whose leg is reg'lar
twissen up like, and as if it would never come straight again.  Seems
queer, too, as a wound uppards should affect him so downards."

"Oh, he'll be right when the war's over."

"When it's over, sir?  But when will that be?"

"Ah!  I don't know, Ben," said Roy, with a sigh.  "But there, don't
fret.  Take it easy for a bit, and grow strong."

"I am strong, sir.  Strong as a horse--but do I look like the sort of
man to take it easy?  I've sat on that bench in the sun warming one
side, and turning and warming the other side, till I've felt as if I
hated myself.  It aren't as if I could read.  Begin to wish I could now,
not as I ever knowed much good come out o' books."

"Why, Ben!"

"Ah, you may say `Why, Ben!' sir, but look what books'll bring a man to!
Look at that there Fiddler Pawson.  Shuts hisself up even now, doing
nothing but read, and only comes out o' nights, and goes prowling round
the ramparts like an old black tom-cat.  You can often hear the sentries
challenging him."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said Roy.  "I've heard them challenge some one
when I've been watching the stars."

"What business have you watching the stars o' nights, sir?" said Ben,
sourly.

"Can't always sleep, Ben, for thinking."

"Humph!" growled the man.  "Howsoever, sir, I do live in hopes."

"Yes; so do I."

"Ah, not same as me, sir.  I lives in hopes o' one o' the sentries
making a mistake some night."

"And shooting him, Ben?"

The sergeant winked, nodded, and rubbed his hands.

"Only wish they'd put me on duty, sir."

"You wouldn't shoot him, Ben, if they did."

"Then I'd save the powder and bullet, sir, and pitch him into the moat,
same as the enemy did a lot of our chaps--all them as didn't jump--but
they all got safe over, I suppose."

Roy began to walk up and down with his companion, passing the other
prisoners from time to time on the wide bench in the corner; while old
Jenk sat on the mossy stone steps at the foot of the sun-dial in the
middle of the court, one arm nursing his sword upon his knees, the other
embracing the lichen-covered pedestal against which he rested his head--
no bad representation of old Father Time taking a nap.

"Wish I could sleep like he does," growled Ben.  "Nothing to do.  Won't
let me help any way.  Tried to have a go in the armoury, but that
sergeant as went through the rat's hole with us grinned at me and turned
me out.  Pah!  I hate him!  He's reg'lar took my job out o' my hands."

"Patience, patience, Ben," said Roy.

"Don't believe there's any o' that stuff left in the castle, Master Roy.
What do you think they're doing?"

"I don't know.  What?"

"Got big stones and mortar down in the hole in three places, ready to
build it up.  Done it by now, perhaps."

"How do you know?"

"Sergeant told me.  Grinned at me and said they didn't mean to have any
one go out that way, nor yet come in at twelve o' clock at night."

"Indeed!" said Roy, to whom this news was troublous, interfering as it
did with sundry misty notions in which he had indulged about retaking
the castle, or all making their escape.

"Yes, sir; that general aren't a bit of a fool.  Wouldn't be at all a
bad officer, if he was on the right side.  That other chap wouldn't be a
bad sort o' sergeant either, if he knowed his duty to his king and
country.  But there's going to be a fight some day 'twix' him and me."

"Nonsense!  While we are prisoners we must behave ourselves, Ben."

"Oh, must we, sir?  What call's he got to get grinning at me?  I'll make
him grin the wrong side of his mouth if he don't look out."

"Yes; you are getting rusty, Ben," said Roy, merrily.

"Then why don't you make some plan, sir?" whispered the old sergeant in
an earnest whisper.  "Let's make a bold stroke for it, and retake the
castle.  Think of what your father would say if you did.  Why, if the
king was to hear of it, he'd be that pleased, he'd send for you to the
palace and make a knight of you at once."

"Poor king!" said Roy, sadly.  "Perhaps by this time he has no palace to
call his own."

"And he won't have, unless some of us shows we've got the right stuff
left in us."

At that moment they were passing the sun-dial, and old Jenk started into
wakefulness, rose, shaded his eyes, and stared at Roy.

"That you, sir?"

"Yes, Jenk."

"So it be.  How are you, Master Roy--how are you?  I've been thinking a
deal about you, sir.  Don't you be downhearted; just wait a bit, and
you'll see."

"See--see what, Jenk?"

The old man shook his head and smiled in a cunning fashion.

"You wait, sir, and you'll see," he said; and he sank down again, laid
his head against the pedestal, and went off fast asleep.

"Yes, Master Roy, you'll see, and before many months have gone by," said
Ben, solemnly.  "Poor old Jenk!  He's been a fine old soldier, and a
true follower of the house of Royland."

"He has, Ben."

"And he's going to be the first prisoner set free."

He gave Roy a meaning look, and they separated, the lad to pass the
other prisoners on the bench, and return their salutes as he went on to
the private apartments and made his way to his own room, to sit down by
the open window to try to think out some way of ending their captivity
by turning the tables on the enemy.

The day was warm, the thinking hard, and at last his brain refused to
work any longer at the task of trying to do an impossible thing, the
result being that Roy suddenly opened his eyes after dreaming that some
people were talking angrily in his room while he slept.

But as he lay back, staring, and seeing that the room was empty, a
familiar and very stern voice came in through the window with these
words, uttered in a perfectly unimpassioned voice, but one which
suggested that against it there was no appeal:

"I have listened to all you had to say, Master Pawson, and all your
complaints.  Now, hear me: and you had better take my advice, with which
I shall conclude.  In the first place, in accordance with my
instructions, I concluded that iniquitous bargain with you."

"Iniquitous, sir?" cried Pawson, in his highly-pitched voice, which now
sounded quite a squeak.

"Yes, iniquitous.  What else do you call it to sell your honour for the
sake of gain?  Iniquitous, treacherous; it is all that, but war made it
a stern necessity that we should listen to your proposals.  You kept to
your terms; the new government will keep to its bargain.  You will
retain the castle and estate, but there was no question of time.  I
shall hold this place as a centre as long as we find it necessary.  You
can stay here or go till we have left.  If you stay, take the advice I
gave you.  Go to your room, and stay there always, save when, like some
unclean beast of prey, you come out to prowl at night.  For, though your
life is safe, I tell you that there is not a soldier in my force who
does not look upon you with contempt.  In future, sir, if you wish to
make any communication to me, be good enough to write."

Roy would have shrunk away, so as not to listen, but these words filled
the room in the silence of that afternoon, and the general's retiring
steps were plainly heard, followed by a low hissing sound, as of some
one expiring his pent-up breath.

Then a soft, cat-like step was heard, and Roy said to himself--

"It seems as if Master Pawson's punishment has begun."



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

THE USE OF A POWDER-MAGAZINE.

Roy found, as the time glided on in his monotonous life, that Ben's news
was correct.  General Hepburn was determined not to be surprised by any
party of the Royalists who had learned from the fugitives that such a
passage existed; and to make assurance doubly sure, he was about to
build up the tunnel in three different places; but on second thoughts he
did otherwise, setting his men to work to carry kegs of powder to some
distance from the castle, placing them in a suitable position in the
tunnel, and then, after making a fuse of several yards in length, having
a tremendously strong wall built up across the place, leaving a hole
just big enough for the fuse to pass through.

This was all done very quietly, Roy supposing that the men were merely
building.  Then a few days were allowed to pass for the cement to settle
and harden before the fuse was fired.

The fact was known one morning at breakfast, when a terrific roar made
Roy rush from the table and up to the ramparts, in full expectation of
seeing a battery of guns just opening fire on the castle.

"Yes, it is," he panted to himself as he looked over towards the chapel
hill, and saw the smoke rising from a mound of earth.

But in a few minutes he knew the truth from one of the officers who
challenged him for coming there, and went back to breakfast with his
appetite gone, for he felt that one of the means of escape was
completely sealed up, and the night would never come when he could, with
the help of his friends, lead Lady Royland through the passage on their
way to liberty.

"And a good thing, too," he said bitterly to the old sergeant, for the
grapes seemed to be very sour.  "I don't want to escape.  I wouldn't go
if the way were open, and I'm sure my mother would not leave our own old
home.  Why, it would be like giving it all to Pawson, and I'll die
before he shall have it in peace."

"'Ray, 'ray, 'ray, 'ray!" cried Ben, softly.  "Can't shout it out as I
should like to, Master Roy.  That's the right sperit, sir.  We won't
never give up, come what may."

Old Jenk passed them just then, muttering to himself as he tottered by,
and paying no heed when spoken to, while the various sentries treated
him as a kind of amiable old madman, who was licenced to go about as he
pleased, being perfectly harmless.

Another day passed, and Roy was walking up and down in his favourite
part of the court-yard thinking of when he should ask General Hepburn
for a written permission to go about on the ramparts, for the officer
had spoken rather sharply to him after he had run up on the occasion of
the blowing up of the tunnel.

But he did not ask the general, for the events that followed came one
upon another so quickly that the matter passed out of his mind.

For all at once, just as Ben was coming slowly up to him, one of the
sentinels shouted to the officer of the guard below, and word was passed
to the general that a dragoon was galloping up along the road as fast as
he could hurry his horse along.

A few minutes later, in the midst of a little excitement, the man drew
rein at the outer gate-way, held up a packet in answer to a challenge,
and as soon as the drawbridge was lowered, he dismounted and walked his
horse over, for the poor beast was terribly distressed, and the rider
appeared exhausted.

Roy stood eagerly watching, for this evidently meant something
important, otherwise the messenger would not have nearly ridden his
horse to death, the poor beast standing drooping in the middle of the
court-yard; while the man, whose face was blackened with dust and sweat,
and disfigured by a broad strip of plaster which extended from high up
among the roots of his closely-cropped hair on the left temple down to
his right eyebrow, leaned heavily on the sun-dial and asked for water.

The general read his despatch carefully twice, and then turned to the
messenger to question him in a low voice, looking at him searchingly the
while.

"Did General Braxley give you this despatch to bring?"

The man straightened himself up, but reeled and snatched at the sun-dial
again from weakness.

"No, sir; to my comrade.  We met a vedette of the enemy, and had to make
a running fight for it till he went down, and I snatched up the despatch
and came on."

"How far from here are the enemy?"

"About five-and-twenty miles, sir, I should say."

"In what direction?"

"Towards Exeter, sir.  I did hear say that the king was with them."

"Hah!  And how strong are they, do you suppose?"

"'Bout four hundred horsemen, I heard say, sir; but it was only what my
comrade told me."

"Go into the guard-room and get some refreshment," said the general,
after reading his despatch carefully again.

The man turned to go, and just then his horse fell heavily, the blood
gushed from its nostrils as it gave a few convulsive struggles, and then
lay dead.

The messenger went to its head, sank upon one knee, as Roy joined the
group around, bent lower, kissed the poor animal's brow.  Then he drew
his sword, cut off a piece of its forelock, thrust it into his wallet,
and amidst perfect silence, followed one of the men to the guard-room,
hanging his head, while Roy longed to go and shake him by the hand.

The next moment the silence was broken by the loud blare of a trumpet,
and a gun was fired from the gate tower.

Roy had directly after a specimen of the general's military capacity,
for by the time the court was filling with armed men, one of the
sentinels on the north-west tower announced the coming of the squadron
of horse that had been camping by and in the ruined chapel; while,
within half an hour, the troop in the castle rode out, each bearing a
foot-soldier upon the crupper of his saddle,--the squadron without
waiting to take on an equal number themselves.  The general meanwhile
sat upon his charger conversing in a low tone with the officer he was
about to leave in command.

Just then, looking very weak and ill, the messenger came hurrying out of
the guard-room, putting on his steel cap.

He waited till the general approached, and Roy was near enough to hear
what was now said, the man speaking in a husky voice.

"Beg pardon, general; will you give orders for me to be supplied with a
fresh horse?"

"What for?" said General Hepburn, turning on him sharply.

"To go with you and join my regiment."

"No; stay here.  Captain Ramsay, if there is any ruse being practised,
as soon as you hear that disaster has come to nay party, place that man
against the wall and have him shot."

The dragoon raised his hand to his cap in salute; and as soon as the
general had ridden out, he staggered more than walked to where the dead
horse lay, and took its head into his lap, to sit gazing sorrowfully
into its reproachful-looking, glazing eyes.

"I'm a tough old chap, Master Roy," whispered Ben, "but my eyes are so
watery I can hardly see; and if that orderly warn't an enemy, I'd just
go and shake him by the fist."

Unconsciously the old sergeant had exactly expressed Roy's own feelings;
but the next minute all show of weakness and sentiment had passed away.
The trooper turned from the lookers-on, giving the horse's neck three or
four pats, and then began to unbuckle headstall, and take off bridle and
bit before unbuckling the girths, rising and taking hold of the saddle,
giving it a sharp snatch to drag it free.  But he had to put his
heavily-booted foot against the horse's back, and tug several times
before he could get the girths from beneath the heavy weight.

Then, throwing the saddle across his arm, and picking up the bridle, he
turned to the nearest sentinel, asked a question, had the low archway
pointed out which led into the basement used for stabling, and
disappeared down the slope.

"Oh, my lad, my lad," said Ben, softly; "what a chance if we'd got
anything ready!"

"What--to surprise?" said Roy, as he watched the portcullis
re-descending, and saw the drawbridge begin to glide up directly after.

"That's it, sir.  They're as weak as weak here now, with all them gone,
and we're nine strong men, for Sam Donny could fight in spite of his
twissen foot."

"There's nothing the matter with Sam's foot, Ben; it's all sham; I've
known it from the first."

"What?--So much the better, then."

"So much the worse, because we can do nothing.  They are still a hundred
strong."

"Nay, sir--not above eighty."

"Ten to one, Ben.  I'd do anything, but we have no arms."

"Take 'em from them, sir."

"Rash folly, Ben.  I'm soldier enough now to know that it would be like
throwing away your lives."

"Humph!" growled Ben; and the officer now in command came up and said,
firmly--

"Now, Master Royland, I am sorry to seem harsh with you, but, saving at
meal-times, when I shall be glad to see you, I must ask you to keep your
chamber till General Hepburn returns, and hold no communication whatever
with your fellow-prisoners."

"Very well, sir," said Roy, majestically.

"And you, sergeant, go to your fellows and keep with them.  You can have
an hour in the court-yard every day under guard.  March!"

Ben saluted and went to where the corporal, Sam Donny, and the rest were
seated on the stone bench in the sun, spoke to them, and they all rose
and went through the door-way close at hand; while Roy bowed to the
captain stiffly and went through to the private apartments, and thence
to his own room, where he shut himself in, and soon after heard a sentry
placed at his door, a piece of routine that had for some time been
discontinued.

"How suspicious!" muttered Roy.  "But no wonder!  He doesn't mean to be
caught napping.  More didn't I, but I was.  No chance of him having the
same luck."

He went to the window, and the first thing he saw was the dead horse
being dragged towards the gate-way, where it was left to wait till the
bridge should be lowered again.

"Poor thing!  How roughly they are using it!" he thought.  "Can't feel,
though, now."

Then his attention was taken up by seeing old Jenk with his white hair
and beard streaming, as he tottered here and there in the sunshine,
looking excited and without his weapon.

"Why, they've taken the sword away from the poor old fellow," thought
Roy.  "How absurd!  It will make him half-mad, if it hasn't done so
already."

But in a few moments the old man sat down on the pedestal of the
sun-dial, and his head drooped on his breast.

Beyond him, just visible at the foot of the slope and outside the
stables, Roy could see the Roundhead trooper, bareheaded and stripped to
his breeches and shirt, rolling up his shirt-sleeves and beginning to
clean his horse's harness.  But something which seemed to be more
important took the boy's attention the next moment, and that was the
figure of Master Pawson upon the ramparts, walking up and down in the
sunshine, this being the first time he had been visible by daylight
since the general's stern words.

"Taking advantage of his being away," thought Roy; and he was about to
shrink back to avoid being seen, but his pride forbade that, and he
leaned out and amused himself by parting the thick growth of old ivy,
and thinking how easily he could get down into the court if he liked.

"And that wretch could climb up while I'm asleep and kill me if he
liked," he thought, with a slight shudder, which he laughed off the next
moment as folly.

Dinner was announced in due time, and he was half-disposed not to go;
but he joined the officers, and obtained permission from the captain to
visit his mother's room to tea.

"Oh, yes," said that officer, quietly.  "I do not wish to be too hard
upon you, Royland, only I cannot have you conspiring with your men to
retake the castle now we seem weak."

So Roy spent a pleasant evening with his mother, and in good time
returned to his own room, heard the sentry placed outside, and then sat
in the summer evening, trying to see the men stationed opposite, and
upon the towers, from his open window.

It was a very dark night, hot and promising a thunderstorm, the air
feeling so close that, when at last Roy retired, he left the large
window wide open.

"No fear of Master Pawson playing any tricks," he said to himself with a
laugh as he undressed and lay down, wondering whether the general was
going to attack some place, being in perfect ignorance of everything but
the fact that he had gone on some expedition.

He fell asleep directly, and lay breathing hard till, in the midst of an
uneasy dream, he was awakened suddenly by feeling a hand pressed upon
his mouth.

Like a flash through the darkness he saw everything: Master Pawson had
climbed up to his window from the court, entered silently, and was about
to strangle him as he lay.

But before he could attempt to resist, a pair of warm lips were pressed
upon his brow, and then glided to his ear to whisper--

"Roy, my boy, not a sound!  Don't speak!  It is I--your father."

The lad's breast rose as a great sob of joy struggled to his lips, while
his hands seized that upon his mouth, pressed it closer, kissed the
palm, and were then passed round the neck of him who knelt by his bed.

They did not stay there a moment; for one began to feel the face, and
the other was passed over the head.

No moustache and pointed beard, no long flowing curls, only stubble and
short hair, and a long patch of plaster extending from the hair about
the left temple to the right eyebrow.

Roy's mental eyes were opened; he saw it all now.  At last!  His gallant
father had risked his life to come to them in the disguise of a
Roundhead trooper, and the general must have been sent on a fool's
errand so that the castle could be captured again.

_Thump, thump, thump_! went Roy's heart as these thoughts rushed through
his brain.  Then the lips at his ear said, and it sounded strangely
incongruous--almost mocking:

"Go on snoring as you were, so that the sentry at your door may hear."

Roy obeyed, and imitated the real thing as well as he could.

"Your mother?  If safe and well press my hand."

The pressure was given, and the whisper went on through the snoring.

"Roy, I have come at great risk through the accident of the capture of a
messenger with a despatch.  The general has gone where he was desired,
but we have had time to take our men in another direction.  To-night two
hundred Cavaliers will have ridden in as near as they dare, and then one
hundred and fifty will have dismounted and marched silently under cover
of the darkness opposite the gates.--Snore, boy, snore!"

Roy had ceased his hard breathing, but his heart worked harder than
ever, and he snored again; while Sir Granby went on:

"Tell me how many of our men you have here; where they are; whether the
guard in the gate tower can be mastered while the bridge is lowered and
the portcullis raised.  Tell me everything you can, with your lips to my
ear.  My men must be waiting by now."

Roy went on snoring, for the sound of the sentry pacing to and fro came
plainly through the door.  But Sir Granby took up the hard breathing,
and Roy placed his lips to his father's ear and whispered--

"Nine good brave fellows, but they are in the lower hall, and sentries
are placed over them.--They are all unarmed.--Guard-chamber and
turret-stair are carefully guarded.--At least ten men in the
portcullis-room and furnace-chamber.--Impossible to get in that way!"

Sir Granby's lips were at his son's ear directly, and he said--

"I heard a legend when I was a boy, that there was a secret way into the
castle, but it made no impression, and I never recalled it till I heard
that the place was taken.  Don't tell me that the enemy surprised you
through that?"

"Must," whispered Roy; and anticipating that his father would suggest
using the same means, he continued: "Can't use it now; all blown up.  Is
there no other way?  Can't you scale the ramparts?"

"Impossible, boy.  I must leave you, then.  My life will be forfeit when
the colonel returns, and it is too valuable to my king, my men, to you
and your mother, to be thrown away."

"But how can you escape, father?"

"By reaching the ramparts and plunging into the moat.  Good-bye, boy.
Tell your mother I will return soon with as great a force as I can; for
this place must be retaken.  There--Heaven be with you!  I dare not
stay, for it may be hours before I can reach the ramparts."

"But is there no other way, father?  A hundred and fifty men, and no way
of getting them in!"

"Unless the drawbridge can be lowered and portcullis raised--none!"

A deep silence, only broken by the pacing of the sentry outside, and Roy
dreaded now lest the change of men should take place, and the door be
opened to see whether the prisoner was safe.  He tried all he could to
think out some plan, but every one seemed mad; and it was horrible to be
so near success, and yet to fail.

"It is of no use, boy; we are wasting time," said Sir Granby, as Roy
clung to him.  "It would be mad to try any other way, and spilling
precious blood.  Good-bye!"

Roy tried to say the words in return, but they would not come; and,
thoroughly unnerved in his despair, he clung to his father's neck till
he felt himself repelled; and then the way of escape from their dilemma
came.

In one instant a flash which vividly lit up the whole chamber darted in
through the open window, and a deafening roar followed.

But it was not the breaking of the storm, for the next moment they
realised that the magazine below the opposite range of buildings had
been blown up, and the crumbling down of masonry, and the roar and crash
of falling stones, endorsed the idea.

"Hah!" cried Sir Granby, excitedly; "then there is a way!"  And hardly
had the words passed his lips when a distant huzzaing was heard, and
without a moment's hesitation he sprang to the window and lowered
himself down.



CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

HOW THE CASTLE CAME BACK TO ITS OWNER.

Shrieks and cries for help mingled with the blast of a trumpet and the
trampling of feet, as Roy hurried on his clothes, his first thought
being not to follow his father, but to reach his mother's room, though,
in the confusion of brain from which he suffered, he felt that he could
explain nothing about the cause of the explosion.  All he could think
was that by some means the Cavaliers must have contrived to gain access
to the powder-magazine.  But how?

That was a mystery.

While he hurriedly dressed, he could hear orders being given, and the
guns which had been brought in and planted beneath the gate-way being
dragged into the middle of the court, and planted where they would
command the terrible breach in the castle defences; for, by a flickering
light, which was now rising, falling, and always gathering in intensity,
Roy could see that a large portion of the eastern side of the building
was blown down, leaving a tremendous gap.  The stabling, corridor,
hospital-room, and servants' and other adjacent chambers, were gone; and
as he gazed across from his open window, the light suddenly blazed up,
brightly illuminating the ruin, and showing the garrison busily
preparing for their defence.

It was time; for, as Roy paused for a few moments, hesitating to leave
the scene which fascinated him by its weird horror, the Royalists were
crossing the half-filled-in moat, scrambling, wading, helping each
other, and cheering madly.  There was no formation; they were forced to
come on straggling as they could, but a fierce enthusiasm filled their
breasts, and they literally swarmed into the ruins, and climbed here and
there among the flames and smoke.

Fully expecting to be stopped, Roy opened his door; but the sentry had
been summoned with those from the towers and ramparts to defend the
great gap, and Roy passed on to his mother's room, entered without
stopping to knock, to see her surrounded by the women-servants at the
window, their faces lit up by the flames rising brighter and brighter
from the ruins.

Lady Royland did not hear her son enter, but turned and caught his hands
as he ran to her.

"Roy!" she cried, wildly.  "What does this mean?"

"Our turn at last, mother," he said, wild with excitement.  "Look,--look
at them, the Royalists; they've blown down that side, and father is
there with two hundred Cavaliers!"

"Roy!" she cried, hysterically.

"Yes," continued the lad, as he forced himself to the front, and gazed
out; "look, mother; nothing stops them.  Hurrah!  More and more, and--"

The roar of one of the guns from the middle of the court drowned his
words, and there was another roar, but the effect was little.  The guns
were discharged point-blank at the storming party climbing on the ruins;
but they were scattered like skirmishers, and the gun-fire did not check
them in the least.  To Roy it only seemed that they dashed in more
furiously, swarming, by the light of the blazing ruins, like bees; and
before the guns could be reloaded, the Cavaliers were upon the defenders
of the place, and a desperate hand-to-hand fight commenced.

Roy turned excitedly to his mother.

"Stop here; keep the women with you, and don't go near the window; there
may be firing;" and, even as he spoke, shots began to ring out.

"Stop!  Where are you going?" cried Lady Royland, clinging to him.

"To release our men, and help my father," said Roy.

Lady Royland's hands fell to her sides, and the boy darted out of the
room and along the corridor, full of the idea that had flashed into his
brain.

Away to the end he ran unchallenged, turned to the right, and without
meeting a soul, reached the north-east tower, listening to the shouting
and clashing of swords in the court as the desperate fight went on, his
way lit by the glare from the flames in spite of the dense, heavy smoke
and the choking fumes of exploded gunpowder which rolled along the
passage.

With his heart beating wildly for fear he should be too late, Roy dashed
down the spiral staircase to the basement, and the next minute he
reached the door of the lower hall, which formed the men's
prison-chamber.

The sentries were gone, and he thrust back the bolts and turned the
ponderous key.

"Ben!  Corporal!  Donny!  All of you--quick!"

"Ay, ay, sir.  You're only just in time, for we're most smothered.  What
does it all mean?"

"Don't talk!  Follow me--guard-room.  Enemy all in the court."

He led the way back, the men literally staggering after him, half
suffocated as they had been by the fumes of the powder, the explosion
having been so near their prison.  But they revived moment by moment in
the pure air, and growing excited by the sounds that reached them from
the court-yard, they followed on along the lower passages till they
reached the crypt of the south-west tower, passed on to the stairway at
the base of the gate tower, and ascended unchallenged to the great
gate-way, where Roy dashed into the untenanted guard-room, and the men
rapidly armed themselves with weapons from the racks.

"Ready?" said Roy, in a whisper.

"Yes," came in a deep, excited growl.

"Back, then," cried Roy, "and we'll attack them in the rear."

He ranged his men in the shadow, the combatants being wildly engaged
amid a blaze of light, which prevented the movements of Roy's little
party being seen; and he was about to lead them back through the great
corridor to where they could dash out suddenly and make their diversion
in the rear, when Ben suddenly laid his hand upon the boy's arm, and ran
to one of the narrow slits of windows in the guard-room.

"Trampling of horses," he whispered, as he peered out, the glow upward
now lighting the other side of the moat.  "General's men coming back,
sir.  Take us up into the portcullis-room, and we must defend that and
keep it and the furnace-chamber to the death.  They must not come in."

Roy grasped the position, knowing well enough that as soon as the
defenders knew of the return of their friends, they would admit them,
and the Cavaliers would suffer defeat.

Giving the word, he dashed up the spiral followed by his men, and as
they stood ready to defend the place to the last, and keep bridge and
portcullis as they were, he stepped up into the window and thrust out
his head, to see dimly a body of about fifty horsemen, who galloped up
to the edge of the moat.

"Halt!" shouted their leader.  "No good: impossible.  We must ride
round, dismount, and join Royland through the breach.  Forward!"

"Halt!" shrieked Roy with all his force in his cry, and then in a voice
he did not know as his own, he yelled out, "Royland!  Royland!  God save
the king!"

The effect was electrical.  His words were answered by a loud "hurrah!"

Roy looked back from the window-splay.

"Friends!" he panted.  "Ben, up with you, and lower the bridge;" and as
the old sergeant sprang to the staircase, followed by five more, the
others seized the capstan-bars and began to hoist the portcullis; while,
sword in hand, Roy stood on the narrow stair, determined to die sooner
than an enemy should pass.

But the next minute the bridge was down, with the defenders in ignorance
of what was going on; the first knowledge they had of what was to come
being given by the thunder of the horses' hoofs, and a deafening cheer
as the Cavaliers dashed in.

That charge decided the fight, for in less than five minutes, in spite
of the officer's desperate valour, the defenders broke and fled, to take
refuge in corridor and chamber, from whence they could fire upon their
enemies.

But, half-mad now with excitement, and flushed by the certainty of
victory, the Cavaliers, headed by Sir Granby Royland, went in pursuit,
chasing the Parliamentary party through the passages, never giving them
time to combine, capturing knot after knot, and forcibly driving the
rest below, where, feeling that all was over, their captain ended the
carnage by offering to surrender.  Then the triumphant Cavaliers
gathered in the court-yard, waving hat and sword in the bright light of
the burning building, and raising the echoes with their shouts.

It was about this time that Roy, followed by his little party, sought
out his father, to find him at last, busy, like the careful soldier he
was, stationing men at the towers, and then arranging for a proper
defence of the great gap in the castle side, though temporarily it was
now well defended by a line of flames that no man could pass.

Roy gazed in dismay at the blackened, blood-stained man, bleeding from
two fresh wounds, and was ready to wonder whether this was the gallant,
handsome cavalier who had left the castle to go on the king's service so
short a time before.

"Ah! my brave, true boy!" cried Sir Granby, catching him by the
shoulders; "old Martlet tells me how you led them to open a way for our
friends.  It was the work of a good soldier, Roy.  You'll be a general
yet.  What do you say?" he continued, with a laugh; "as I am now?
There, everything is safe for the present.  Where is your mother?  Am I
fit to see her, though?"

Roy said nothing, but clung to the hand that grasped his; and a few
minutes later Sir Granby was locked in his wife's arms.

By this time a strong party had been formed to attack the flames; and as
there was an abundance of water from the moat, the day broke upon the
quenching of the last burst of fire, and revealed a sad scene of
desolation, the side of the castle on the east being one long hollow
range of burnt-out buildings, saving the hospital-room, which had
escaped, with a wide gap of tottering and piled-up ruins where the
magazine had exploded, hurling great masses of stone into the court-yard
and the moat.

The fire mastered, Sir Granby commenced forming a rough breastwork of
the stones, using for the most part all that could be dragged from the
moat, the Cavaliers wading in and working like labourers to strengthen
the breach, which towards evening began to look strong with the rough
platforms made for the enemy's three heavy guns.  The work was so far
completed none too soon, for just at dusk a body of men was seen
approaching in the distance, and General Hepburn soon after appeared, to
find that he had been outwitted in turn, and that a long siege would be
necessary before he could hope to be master of the place again.

That long siege followed; and at last, weakened by loss of men and
reduced from want of food, the Cavaliers were unable to combat the
terrible assault delivered by the little army that had gradually been
gathered about the walls, and the castle fell once more into the hands
of the Parliamentarians, who were generous enough to treat the gallant
defenders with the honours they deserved.

"But they would never have taken it, Roy," said Sir Granby, "if that gap
had not been blown out.  I'd give something to know how it occurred.
Could it have been done by that villain Pawson out of despite?"

It was long before the truth was known, when, after years of exile with
his wife and son, Sir Granby Royland returned to take possession of his
ruined castle and estate.  For the young king had ridden into London,
and his father's defenders were being made welcome to their homes.

It happened during the excavating that went on, while the masons were at
work digging out and cleaning all the stones which would be available
for rebuilding the shattered side, that Sir Granby wrote a letter to
Captain Roy Royland, the young officer in the body-guard of his majesty,
King Charles the Second.  The letter was full of congratulations to the
young man on his promotion, and towards the end Sir Granby said--

"I have kept your mother away from the work going on, for I have been
afraid that the digging would mean the turning over of plenty of sad
mementoes of that terrible time; but, strangely enough, these
discoveries have been confined to two.  You remember how we wondered
that Master Palgrave Pawson never showed himself again, to take
possession of the place he schemed to win, and how often we wondered
what became of poor old Jenk.  Well, in one day, Roy, the men came upon
the poor old man crouched up in a corner of the vault, close to the
magazine.  From what we could judge, the powder must have exerted its
force upward, for several of the places where the stones were cleared
out were almost uninjured, and this was especially so where they found
old Jenk.  The poor fellow must have been striking his blow against his
master's enemies, for, when the stones were removed, he lay there with a
lantern and a coil of slow-match beneath, showing what his object must
have been in going down to the magazine.  The other discovery was that
of the remains of my scoundrel of a secretary.  They came upon him
crushed beneath the stones which fell upon the east rampart, where,
perhaps you remember, there was a little shelter for the guard.  Master
Pawson must have been on the ramparts that night, and perished in the
explosion.

"Come home soon, Roy, my lad; we want to see you again.  They ought to
give you leave of absence now, and by the time you get here, I hope to
have the old garden restored, and looking something like itself once
more.  The building will, however, take another year.

"Roy, my boy, they bury soldiers, as you know, generally where they
fall; and your mother and I thought that if poor old Jenk could have
chosen his resting-place, it might have been where we laid him.  As you
remember, the old sun-dial in the middle of the court was levelled by
the explosion.  It has been restored to its place, and it is beneath the
stones that your grandfather's faithful old servant lies at rest.

"Ben Martlet begs me to remember him to you, and says it will do his
eyes good to see you again; and your mother, who writes to you as well,
says you must come now.  My wounds worry me a good deal at times, and I
don't feel so young as I was; but there, as your mother says, what does
it matter now we can rest in peace? for we live again in another, our
own son--Roy."

THE END.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Young Castellan, by George Manville Fenn