Books: Under the Storm
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> Under the Storm
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"Thou shalt have it," said the captain, drawing his writing materials
nearer to him. "There, my lad. It may be thou dost serve thy Maker
as well by the plough as by the sword."
Steadfast pulled his forelock, thanked the captain, was reminded of
the word for the night, and safely reached home again.
CHAPTER XII.
FAREWELL TO THE CAVALIERS.
"If no more our banners shew
Battles won and banners taken,
Still in death, defeat, and woe,
Ours be loyalty unshaken."
SCOTT
The next day the whole family turned out to gather in the corn.
Rusha was making attempts at reaping, while Emlyn played with little
Ben, who toddled about, shouting and chasing her in and out among the
shocks. Now and again they paused at the low, thunderous growl of
the great guns in the distance, in strange contrast to their peaceful
work, and once a foraging party of troopers rode up to the gate of
the little field, but Steadfast met them there, and showed the
officer Captain Venn's paper.
"So you belong to Kenton of Venn's Valiants? It is well. A blessing
on your work!" said the stern dark-faced officer, and on he went,
happily not seeing Emlyn make an ugly face and clench her little fist
behind him.
"How can you, Stead?" she cried. "I'd rather be cursed than blessed
by such as he!"
Stead shook his head slowly. "A blessing is better than a curse any
way," said he, but his mind was a good deal confused between the
piety and good conduct of these Roundheads, in contrast with their
utter contempt of the Church, and rude dealing with all he had been
taught to hold sacred.
His harvest was, however, the matter in hand, and the little patch of
corn was cut and bound between him and his sisters, without further
interruption. The sounds of guns had ceased early in the day, and a
neighbour who had ventured down to the camp to offer some apples for
sale leant over the gate to wonder at the safety of the crop, "though
to be sure the soldiers were very civil, if they would let alone
preaching at you;" adding that there was like to be no more fighting,
for one of the gentlemen inside had ridden out with a white flag, and
it was said the Prince was talking of giving in.
"Give in!" cried Emlyn setting her teeth. "Never. The Prince will
soon make an end of the rebels, and then I shall ride-a-cock horse
with our regiment again! I shall laugh to see the canting rogues
run!"
But the first thing Steadfast heard the next day was that the royal
standard had come down from the Cathedral tower. He had gone up to
Elmwood to get some provisions, and Tom Oates, who spent most of his
time in gazing from the steeple, assured him that if he would come
up, he would see for himself that the flags were changed. Indeed
some of the foot soldiers who had been quartered in the village to
guard the roads had brought the certain tidings that the city had
surrendered and that the malignants, as they called the Royalists,
were to march out that afternoon, by the same road as that by which
the parliamentary army had gone out two years before.
This would be the only chance for Emlyn to rejoin her father or to
learn his fate. The little thing was wild with excitement at the
news. Disdainfully she tore off what she called Rusha's Puritan
rags, though as that offended maiden answered "her own were _real_
rags in spite of all the pains Patience had taken with them. Nothing
would make them tidy," and Rusha pointed to a hopeless stain and to
the frayed edges past mending.
"I hate tidiness. Only Puritan rebels are tidy!"
"We are not Puritans!" cried Rusha.
Emlyn laughed. "Hark at your names," she said. "And what's that
great rebel rogue of a brother of yours?"
"Oh! he is Jeph! He ran away to the wars! But Stead isn't a
Puritan," cried Rusha, growing more earnest. "He always goes to
church--real church down in Bristol. And poor father was
churchmartin, and knew all the parson's secrets."
"Hush, Rusha," said Patience, not much liking this disclosure,
however Jerusha might have come by the knowledge, "you and Emlyn
don't want to quarrel when she is just going to say good-bye!"
This touched the little girls. Rusha had been much enlivened by the
little fairy who had seen so much of the world, and had much more
playfulness than the hard-worked little woodland maid; and Emlyn, who
in spite of her airs, knew that she had been kindly treated, was
drawn towards a companion of her own age, was very fond of little
Ben, and still more so of Steadfast.
Ben cried, "Em not go;" and Rusha held her hand and begged her not to
forget.
"O no, I won't forget you," said Emlyn, "and when we come back with
the King and Prince, and drive the Roundhead ragamuffins out of
Bristol, then I'll bring Stead a protection for Croppie and Daisy and
all, a silver bodkin for you, and a Flanders lace collar for
Patience, and a gold chain for Stead, and --But oh! wasn't that a
trumpet? Stead! Stead! We must go, or we shall miss them." Then
as she hugged and kissed them, "I'll tell Sir Harry and my lady how
good you have been to me, and get my lady to make you a tirewoman,
Rusha. And dear, dear little Ben shall be a king's guard all in
gold."
Ben had her last smothering kiss, and Rusha began to cry and sob as
the gay little figure, capering by Stead's side, disappeared between
the stems of the trees making an attempt, which Steadfast instantly
quenched, at singing,
"The king shall enjoy his own again."
Patience did not feel disposed to cry. She liked the child, and was
grieved to think what an uncertain lot was before the merry little
being, but her presence had made Rusha and Ben more troublesome than
they had ever been in their lives before, and there was also the
anxiety lest her unguarded tongue should offend Jeph and his friends.
Emlyn skipped along by Steadfast's side, making him magnificent
promises. They paused by the ruins of the farm where Stead still
kept up as much of the orchard and garden as he could with so little
time and so far from home, and Emlyn filled her skirt with rosy-
cheeked apples, saying in a pretty gentle manner, "they were such a
treat to our poor rogues on a dusty march," and Stead aided her by
carrying as many as he could.
However, an occasional bugle note, clouds of dust on the road far
below in the valley, and a low, dull tramp warned them to come
forward, and station themselves in the hedge above the deep lane
where Steadfast had once watched for his brother. Only a few of the
more adventurous village lads were before them now, and when Stead
explained that the little wench wanted to watch for her father, they
were kind in helping him to perch her in the hollow of a broken old
pollard, where she could see, and not be seen. For the poor camp
maiden knew the need of caution. She drew Steadfast close to her,
and bade him not show himself till she told him, for some of the
wilder sort would blaze away their pistols at anything, especially
when they had had any good ale, or were out of sorts.
Poor fellows, there was no doubt of their being out of sorts, as they
tramped along, half hidden in dust, even the officers, who rode
before them, with ragged plumes and slouched hats. The silken
banners, which they had been allowed to carry out, because of their
prompt surrender, hung limp and soiled, almost like tokens of a
defeat, and if any one of those spectators behind the hawthorns had
been conversant with Roman history, it would have seemed to them like
the passing under the yoke, so dejected, nay, ashamed was the
demeanour of the gentlemen. Emlyn whispered name after name as they
went by, but even she was hushed and overawed by the spectacle, as
four abreast these sad remnants of the royal army marched along the
lane, one or two trying to whistle, a few more talking in under
tones, but all soon dying away, as if they were too much out of heart
to keep anything up.
She scarcely stirred while the infantry, who were by far the most
numerous, were going by, only naming corps or officer to Stead, then
there came an interval, and the tread of horses and clank of their
trappings could be heard. Then she almost forgot her precautions in
her eagerness to crane forward. "They are coming!" she said. "All
there are of them will be a guard for the Prince."
Stead felt a strange thrill of pain as he remembered the terrible
scene when he had last beheld that tall, slight young figure, and
dark face, now far sterner and sadder than in those early days, as
Rupert went to meet the bitterest hour of his life.
Several gentlemen rode with him, whom Emlyn named as his staff, and
then came more troopers, not alike in dress, being, in fact, remnants
of shattered regiments. She was trembling all over with eagerness,
standing up, and so leaning forward, that she might have tumbled into
the lane, had not Steadfast held her.
At last came a scream. "There's Sir Harry! There's Dick! There's
Staines! Oh! Dick, Dick, where's father?"
There was a halt, and bronzed faces looked up.
"Ha! Who's there?"
"I! I! Emlyn. Oh! Dick, is father coming?"
"Hollo, little one! Art thou safe after all?"
"I am, I am. Father! father! Come! Where is he?"
"It is poor Gaythorn's little wench," explained one of the soldiers,
as Sir Harry, a grey-haired man, looking worn and weary, turned back,
while Steadfast helped the child out on the bank with some
difficulty, for her extreme haste had nearly brought her down, and
she stood curtseying, holding out her arms, and quivering with hope
that began to be fear.
"Poor child!" were the old gentleman's first words. "And where were
you?"
"Please your honour, father left me in the thorn brake," said Emlyn,
"and said he would come for me, but he did not; it got dark, and this
country lad found me, and took me home. Is father coming, your
honour?"
"Ah! my poor little maid, your father will never come again," said
Sir Harry, sadly. "He went down by the mill stream. I saw him fall.
What is to be done for her?" he added, turning to a younger
gentleman, who rode by him, as the child stood as it were stunned for
a moment. "This is the worst of it all. Heaven knows we freely
sacrifice ourselves in the cause of Church and King, but it is hard
to sacrifice others. Here are these faithful servants, their home
broken up with ours, their children dying, and themselves killed--
she, by the brutes after Naseby, he, in this last skirmish. 'Tis
enough to break a man's heart. And what is to become of this poor
little maid?"
"Oh! I'll go with your honour," cried Emlyn, stretching out her
arms. "I can ride behind Dick, and I'll give no one any trouble.
Oh! take me, sir."
"It cannot be done, my poor child," said Sir Harry. "We have no
women with us now, and we have to make our way to Newark by forced
marches to His Majesty. I have no choice but to bestow you somewhere
till better times come. Hark you, my good lad, she says you found
her, and have been good to her. Would your mother take charge of
her? I'll leave what I can with you, and when matters are quiet, my
wife, or the child's kindred, will send after her. Will your father
and mother keep her for the present?"
"I have none," said Steadfast. "My father was killed in his own yard
by some soldiers who wanted to drive our cows. Mother had died
before, but my sister and I made a shift to take care of the little
ones in a poor place of our own."
"And can you take the child in? You seem a good lad."
"We will do our best for her, sir."
"What's your name?" and "Where do you live?" followed. And as
Steadfast replied the old Cavalier took out his tablets and noted
them, adding, "Then you and your sister will be good to her till we
can send after her."
"We will treat her like our little sister, sir."
"And here's something for her keep for the present, little enough I
am afraid, but we poor Cavaliers have not much left. The King's men
were well to do when I heard last of them, and they will make it up
by-and-by. Or if not, my boy, can you do this for the love of God?"
"Yes, sir," said Steadfast, looking up with his honest eyes, and
touching his forelock at the holy Name.
"Here, then," and Sir Harry held out two gold pieces, to which his
companion added one, and two or three of the troopers, saying
something about poor Gaythorn's little maid, added some small silver
coins. There was something in Steadfast's mind that would have
preferred declining all payment, but he was a little afraid of
Patience's dismay at having another mouth to provide for all the
winter, and he thought too that Jeph's anger at the adoption of the
Canaanitish child might be averted if it were a matter of business
and payment, so he accepted the sum, thanked Sir Harry and the rest,
and renewed his promise to do the best in his power for the little
maiden. He rather wondered that no questions were asked as to which
side he held; but Sir Harry had no time to inquire, and could only
hope that the honest, open face, respectful manner, clean dress, and
the kindness which had rescued the child on the battlefield were
tokens that he might be trusted to take care of the poor little
orphan. Besides, many of the country people were too ignorant to
understand the difference between the sides, but only took part with
their squire, or if they loved their clergyman, clung to him. So the
knight would not ask any questions, and only further called out "Fare
thee well, then, poor little maid, we will send after thee when we
can," and then giving a sharp, quick order, all the little party
galloped off to overtake the rest.
Emlyn had been bred up in too much awe of Sir Harry to make
objections, but as her friends rode off she gave a sharp shriek,
screamed out one name after another, and finally threw herself down
on the road bank in a wild passion of grief, anger, and despair, and
when Steadfast would have lifted her up and comforted her, she kicked
and fought him away. Presently he tried her again, begging her to
come home.
"I won't! I won't go to your vile, tumble-down, roundhead, crop-
eared hole!" she sobbed out.
"But, Sir Harry--"
"I won't! I say."
He was at his wits' end, but after all, the sound of other steps
coming up startled her into composing herself and sitting up.
"Hollo, Stead Kenton! Got this little puppet on your hands?" said
young Gates. "Hollo, mistress, you squeal like a whole litter of
pigs."
"I am to take charge of her till her friends can send for her," said
Stead, with protecting dignity.
"And that will be a long day! Ho, little wench, where didst get that
sweet voice?"
"Hush, Tom! the child has only just heard that her father is dead."
This silenced the other lads, and Emlyn's desire to get away from
them accomplished what Steadfast wished, she put her hand into his
and let him lead her away, and as there were sounds of another troop
of cavalry coming up the lane, the boys did not attempt to follow
her. She made no more resistance, though she broke into fresh fits
of moaning and crying all the way home, such as went to Steadfast's
heart, though he could not find a word to comfort her.
Patience was scarcely delighted when Rusha darted in, crying out that
Emlyn had come back again, but perhaps she was not surprised. She
took the poor worn-out little thing in her arms, and rocked her,
saying kind, tender little words, while Steadfast looked on,
wondering at what girls could do, but not speaking till, finding that
Emlyn was fast asleep, Patience laid her down on the bed without
waking her, and then had time to listen to Stead's account of the
interview with Sir Harry Blythedale.
"I could not help it, Patience," he said, "we couldn't leave the poor
fatherless child out on the hedge-side."
"No," said Patience, "we can't but have her, as the gentleman said,
for the love of God. He has taken care of us, so we ought to take
care of the fatherless--like ourselves."
"That's right, Patience," said Steadfast, much relieved in his mind,
"and see here!"
"I wonder you took that, Stead, and the poor gentlemen so ill off
themselves."
"Well, Patience, I thought if you would not have her, Goody Grace
might for the pay, but then who knows when any more may come?"
"Aye," said Patience, "we must keep her, though she will be a
handful. Anyway, all this must be laid out for her, and the first
chance I have, some shall be in decent clothes. I can't a-bear to
see her in those dirty gewgaws."
CHAPTER XIII.
GODLY VENN'S TROOP.
"Ye abbeys and ye arches,
Ye old cathedrals dear,
The hearts that love you tremble,
And your enemies have cheer."
BP. CLEVELAND COXE.
"What would Jeph say?" was the thought of both Steadfast and Patience,
as Emlyn ran about with Rusha and Ben, making herself tolerably happy
and enlivening them all a good deal. After one fight she found that
she must obey Patience, though she made no secret that she liked the
sober young mistress of the hut much less than the others, and could
even sometimes get Steadfast to think her hardly used, but he seldom
showed that feeling, for he had plenty of sense, and could not bear
to vex his sister; besides, he saw there would be no peace if her
authority was not supported. It was a relief that there was no visit
from Jeph for some little time, though the fighting was all over, and
people were going in and out of Bristol as before.
Stead took the donkey with the panniers full of apples and nuts on
market day, and a pile of fowls and ducks on its back, while he
carried a basket of eggs on his arm, and in his head certain
instructions from Patience about the grogram and linen he was to
purchase for Emlyn, in the hope of making her respectable before
Jeph's eyes should rest upon her. Stead's old customers were glad to
see him again, especially Mrs. Lightfoot, who had Dr. Eales once
again in her back rooms, keeping out of sight, while the good Dean
was actually in prison for using the Prayer-book. Three soldiers
were quartered upon her at the Wheatsheaf, and though, on the whole,
they were more civil and much less riotous than some of her Cavalier
lodgers had been, she was always in dread of their taking offence at
the doctor and hauling him off to gaol.
Steadfast confided to her Patience's commission, which she undertook
to execute herself. It included a spinning-wheel, for Patience was
determined to teach Emlyn to spin, an art of which no respectable
woman from the Queen downwards was ignorant in those days. As to
finding his brother, the best way would be to ask the soldiers who
were smoking in the kitchen where he was likely to be.
They said that the faithful and valiant Jephthah Kenton of Venn's
horse would be found somewhere about the great steeple house,
profanely called the Cathedral, for there the troops were quartered;
and thither accordingly Stead betook himself, starting as he saw
horses gearing or being groomed on the sward in the close which had
always been kept in such perfect order. Having looked in vain
outside for his brother, he advanced into the building, but he had
only just had a view of horses stamping between the pillars, the
floor littered down with straw, a fire burning in one of the niches,
and soldiers lying about, smoking or eating, in all manner of easy,
lounging attitudes, when suddenly there was a shout of "Prelatist,
Idolater, Baal-worshipper, Papist," and to his horror he found it was
all directed towards himself. They were pointing to his head, and
two of them had caught him by the shoulders, when another voice rose
"Ha! Let him alone. I say, Bill! Faithful! It's my brother. He
knows no better!" Then dashing up, Jeph rammed the great hat down
over Stead's brow, eyes and all, and called out, "Whoever touches my
brother must have at me first."
"There," said one of the others, "the old Adam need not be so fierce
in thee, brother Jephthah! No one wants to hurt the lad, young
prelatist though he be, so he will make amends by burning their
superstitious books on the fire, even as Jehu burnt the worshippers
of Baal."
Steadfast felt somewhat as Christians of old may have felt when
called on to throw incense on the altar of Jupiter, as a handful of
pages torn from a Prayer-book was thrust into his hands. Words did
not come readily to him, but he shook his head and stood still,
perhaps stolid in resistance.
"Come," said Jeph, laying hold of his shoulder to drag him along.
"I cannot; 'tis Scripture," said Stead, as in his distress his eye
fell on the leaves in his hand, and he read aloud to prove it--
"Thy Word is a lantern unto my feet, and a light unto my path."
There was one moment's pause. Perhaps the men had absolutely
forgotten how much of their cherished Bible was integral in the hated
Prayer-book; at any rate they were enough taken aback to enable Jeph
to pull his brother out at the door, not without a fraternal cuff or
two, as he exclaimed:
"Thou foolish fellow! ever running into danger for very dullness."
"What have I done, Jeph?" asked poor Stead, still bewildered.
"Done! Why, doffed thy hat, after the superstitious and idolatrous
custom of our fathers."
"How can it be idolatrous? 'Twas God's house," said Stead.
"Aye, there thou art in the gall of bitterness. Know'st thou not
that no house is more holy than another?" and Jeph would have gone on
for some time longer, but that he heard sounds which made him suspect
that someone had condemned the version of the Psalms as prelatical
and profane, and that his comrades might yet burst forth to visit
their wrath upon his young brother, whom he therefore proceeded to
lead out of sight as fast as possible into the Dean's garden, where
he had the entree as being orderly to Captain Venn, who, with other
officers, abode in the Deanery.
There, controversy being dropped for the moment, Stead was able to
tell his brother of his expedition, and how he had been obliged to
keep the child, for very pity's sake, even if her late father's
master had not begged him to do so, and given an earnest of the
payment.
Jeph laughed a little scornfully at the notion of a wild Cavalier
ever paying, but he was not barbarous, and allowed that there was no
choice in the matter, as she could not be turned out to starve. When
he heard that Stead had come with market produce he was displeased at
it not having been brought up for the table of his officers, assuring
Stead that they were not to be confounded with the roistering,
penniless malignants, who robbed instead of paying. Stead said he
always supplied Mistress Lightfoot, but this was laughed to scorn.
"The rulers of the army of saints had a right to be served first,
above all before one who was believed to harbour the idolater, even
the priest of the groves."
Jeph directed that the next supply should come to the Deanery, as one
who had the right of ownership, and Stead submitted, only with the
secret resolve that Dr. Eales should not want his few eggs nor his
pat of fresh butter.
Jeph was not unkind to Stead, and took him to dine with the other
attendants of the officers in the very stone hall where he had eaten
that Christmas dinner some twenty months before. There was a very
long grace pronounced extempore, and the guests were stout, resolute,
grave-looking men, who kept on their steeple-crowned hats all the
time and conversed in low, deep voices, chiefly, as far as Stead
could gather, on military matters, but they seemed to appreciate good
beef and ale quite as much as any Cavalier trooper could have done.
One of them noticing Stead asked whether he had come to take service
with the saints and enjoy their dominion, but Jeph answered for him
that his call lay at home among those of his own household, until his
heart should be whole with the cause.
On the whole Stead was proud to see Jeph holding his own, though the
youngest among these determined-looking men. These two years had
made a man of the rough, idle, pleasure-loving boy, and a man after
the Ironsides' fashion, grave, self-contained, and self-depending.
Stead had been more like the elder than the younger brother in old
times, but he felt Jeph immeasurably his elder in the new, unfamiliar
atmosphere; and yet the boy had a strong sense that all was not
right; that these were interlopers in the kind old Dean's house; that
the talk about Baal was mere absurdity; and the profanation of the
Cathedral would have been utterly shocking to his good father. His
mind, however, worked slowly, and he would have had nothing to say
even if he could have ventured to speak; but he was very anxious to
get away; and when Jeph would have kept him to hear the serjeant
expound a chapter of Revelation, he pleaded the necessity of getting
home in time to milk the cows, and made his escape.
On the whole it was a relief that Jeph was too much occupied with his
military duties to make visits to his home. It might not have been
over easy to keep the peace between him and Emlyn, fiery little
Royalist as she was, and too much used to being petted and
fascinating everyone by her saucy audacity to be likely to be afraid
of him.
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