women--leastways unless they take 'em for Irish--and thinking that, they did make bloody work with the poor ladies at Naseby. But the dame there will be safe enough,' he added, as she was already on the move down hill. 'Has no one a keg of cider to give her? I know what 'tis to lie parching under a wound.'
Someone produced one, and as her son shouted 'Have with you, mother,' Steadfast hastily asked Tom Oates to let Patience know that he was gone to see after Jephthah, and joined Ned Lakin and his mother.
Jeph had indeed left his brothers and sisters in a strange, wild way, almost cruel in its thoughtlessness; but to Stead it had never seemed more than that elder brotherly masterfulness that he took as a matter of course, and there was no resting in the thought of his lying wounded and helpless on the field--nay, the assurance that Hodge shouted out that the rebel dogs took care of their own fell on unhearing or unheeding ears, as Steadfast and Ned Lakin dragged the widow through a gap in the hedge over another field, and then made their way down a deep stony lane between high hedges.
It was getting dark, in spite of the harvest moon, by the time they came out on the open space below, and began to see that saddest of all sights, a battlefield at night.
A soldier used to war would perhaps have scorned to call this a battle, but it was dreadful enough to these three when they heard the sobbing panting, and saw the struggling of a poor horse not quite dead, and his rider a little way from him, a fine stout young man, cold and stiff, as Nanny turned up his face to see if it was her Harry's.
A little farther on lay another figure on his back, but as Nanny stooped over it, a lantern was flashed on her and a gruff voice called out, 'Villains, ungodly churls, be you robbing the dead?' and a tall man stood darkly before them, pistol in hand.
'No, sir; no, sir,' sobbed out Nanny. 'I am only a poor widow woman, come down to see whether my poor lad be dead or alive and wanting his mother.'
'What was his regiment?' demanded the soldier in a kinder voice.
'Oh, sir, your honour, don't be hard on him--he couldn't help it--he went with Sir George Elmwood.'
'That makes no odds, woman, when a man's down,' said the soldier. 'Unless 'tis with the Fifth Monarchy sort, and I don't hold with them. I have an uncle and a cousin or two among the malignants, as good fellows as ever lived--no Amalekites and Canaanites--let Smite-them Derry say what he will. Elmwood! let's see--that was the troop that forded higher up, and came on Fisher's corps. This way, dame. If your son be down, you'll find him here; that is, unless he be carried into the mill or one of the houses. Most of the wounded lie there for the night, but the poor lads that are killed must be buried to-morrow. Take care, dame,' as poor Nanny cried out in horror at having stumbled over a dead man's legs. He held his lantern so that she could see the face while she groaned out, 'Poor soul.' And thus they worked their sad way up to the buildings about the water mill. There was a shed through the chinks of which light could be seen, and at the door of which a soldier exclaimed--
'Have ye more wounded, Sam? There's no room for a dog in here. They lie as thick as herrings in a barrel.'
'Nay, 'tis a poor country woman come to look for her son. What's his name? Is there a malignant here of the name of Harry Lakin?'
The question was repeated, and a cry of gladness, 'Mother! mother!' ended in a shriek of pain in the distance within.
'Aye, get you in, mother, get you in. A woman here will be all the better, be she who she may.'
The permission was not listened to. Nanny had already sprung into the midst of the mass of suffering towards the bloody straw where her son was lying.
Steadfast, who had of course looked most anxiously at each of the still forms on the way, now ventured to say:--
'So please you, sir, would you ask after one Jephthah Kenton? On your own side, sir, in Captain Venn's troop? I am his brother.'
'Oh, ho! you are of the right sort, eh?' said the soldier. 'Jephthah Kenton. D'ye know aught of him, Joe?'
'I heard him answer to the roll call before Venn's troop went off to quarters,' replied the other man. 'He is safe and sound, my lad, and Venn's own orderly.'
Steadfast's heart bounded up. He longed still to know whether poor Harry Lakin was in very bad case, but it was impossible to get in to discover, and he was pushed out of the way by a party carrying in another wounded man, whose moans and cries were fearful to listen to. He thought it would be wisest to make the best of his way home to Patience, and set her likewise at rest, for who could tell what she might not have heard.
The moon was shining brightly enough to make his way plain, but the scene around was all the sadder and more ghastly in that pallid light, which showed out the dark forms of man and horse, and what was worse the white faces turned up, and those dark pools in which once or twice he had slipped as he saw or fancied he saw movements that made him shudder, while a poor dog on the other side of the stream howled piteously from time to time.
Presently, as he came near a hawthorn bush which cast a strangely shaped shadow, he heard a sobbing--not like the panting moan of a wounded man, but the worn out crying of a tired child. He thought some village little one must have wandered there, and been hemmed in by the fight, and he called out--
'Is anyone there?'
The sobbing ceased for a moment and he called again, 'Who is it? I won't hurt you,' for something white seemed to be squeezing closer into the bush.
'Who are you for?' piped out a weak little voice.
'I'm no soldier,' said Steadfast. 'Come out, I'll take you home by-and-by.'
'I have no home!' was the answer. 'I want father.'
Steadfast was now under the tree, and could see that it was a little girl who was sheltering there of about the same size as Rusha. He tried to take her hand, but she backed against the tree, and he repeated 'Come along, I wouldn't hurt you for the world. Who is your father? Where shall we find him?'
'My father is Serjeant Gaythorn of Sir Harry Blythedale's troopers,' said the child, somewhat proudly, then starting again, 'You are not a rebel, are you?'
'No, I am a country lad,' said Steadfast; 'I want to help you. Come, you can't stay here.'
For the little hand she had yielded to him was cold and damp with the September dews. His touch seemed to give her confidence, and when he asked, 'Can't I take you to your mother?' she answered--
'Mother's dead! The rascal Roundheads shot her over at Naseby.'
'Poor child! poor child!' said Steadfast. 'And you came on with your father.'
'Yes, he took me on his horse over the water, and told me to wait by the bush till he came or sent for me, but he has not come, and the firing is over and it is dark, and I'm so hungry.'
Steadfast thought the child had better come home with him, but she declared that father would come back for her. He felt convinced that her father, if alive, must be in Bristol, and that he could hardly come through the enemy's outposts, and he explained to her this view. To his surprise she understood in a moment, having evidently much more experience of military matters than he had, and when he further told her that Hodge was at Elmwood, and would no doubt rejoin his regiment at Bristol the next day, she seemed satisfied, and with the prospect of supper before her, trotted along, holding Steadfast's hand and munching a crust which he had found in his pouch, the remains of the interrupted meal, but though at first it seemed to revive her a good deal, the poor little thing was evidently tired out, and she soon began to drag, and fret, and moan. The three miles was a long way for her, and tired as he was, Steadfast had to take her on his back, and when at last he reached home, and would have set her down before his astonished sisters, she was fast asleep with her head on his shoulder.
CHAPTER XI. THE FORTUNES OF WAR.
'Hear and improve, he pertly cries,
I come to make a nation wise.'
GAY
Very early in the morning, before indeed anyone except Patience was stirring, Steadfast set forth in search of Roger Fitter to consult him about the poor child who was fast asleep beside Jerusha; and propose to him to take
