"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."