XXXVIII
Of the Surrender of Pontefract Castle
So Dennis Watson had escaped me, and there was naught for it but to wait with what patience I could for some future opportunity of settling matters with him. We left the wretched old man his father to the care of his own people, and returned to Dale’s Field. Until that moment our recent adventures had not brought me any feeling of fatigue, for I had thought of naught but punishing my enemy, but when we found Dennis flown beyond our immediate reach, a reaction came over me, and I was glad to get home and into my bed, where I slept as soundly as a bear in winter.
It was now the first day of June, and we had been away from the castle four days. During our absence no news had come to Dale’s Field of any change in the position of affairs, only, said Jacob Trusty, who took a keen interest in the siege, the cannonading had been much more vigorous than previously. We were not inclined to remain longer away from the scene of hostilities than we could help, and we therefore determined to make an attempt to pass the enemy’s lines that night. We passed the day at Dale’s Field, resting after our exertions, and receiving many messages from my mother and Lucy for Ben Tuckett, who they imagined must by that time have suffered exceedingly from his long privation. Also in the afternoon of that day I went round my farm with Rose, whom until then I had not seen for a long time, and did not know when I should see again.
We left Dale’s Field after dark, and pushed on towards Pontefract, hearing now and then the sound of a solitary gun fired by besiegers or besieged. It was no easy matter to pass the enemy’s lines, for they had begun to keep a very zealous watch; but by the exercise of care and patience we eluded their vigilance, and were admitted to the Castle again about an hour before midnight. Then we learned that the Governor had that day received letters from Sir Marmaduke Langdale to the effect that the King’s forces had been successful at Derby, and that success was everywhere attending the royal arms. This joyful news had raised the spirits of the garrison to a high degree, for now there was good hope of his Majesty’s coming to sweep away the Roundheads and raise the siege.
To no one was this prospect more grateful than to Ben Tuckett, whom I perceived to have grown at least two inches less in girth since I had left him, notwithstanding the fact that there was now plenty of fresh meat in the Castle. The fact was, poor Ben was beginning to feel the effect of the confinement, and he was also pining for a sight of his sweetheart. He was in a very dolorous mood when we found him, in spite of the good news from Derby.
“Thou hast been to Dale’s Field, Will?” said he, having heard all we had to tell him concerning our adventures.
“Indeed we have, Ben. We lay there last night, and passed the day there into the bargain.”
“Ah!” said he, sighing deeply, “it must have been exceeding pleasant. Did they speak of me at all, Will?”
“There was a time, Ben, when they spoke of naught else. I am charged with a thousand messages for thee, only the mischief is that I have forgotten them. I remember that Lucy sent thee her dearest love and duty, and my mother bade me tell thee to mind and not take a chill after thou hast gotten warm with fighting, but what else they said I cannot now think of. However, thou canst imagine it all.”
“ ’Tis very kind of them,” he answered, “very kind indeed to remember such an unfortunate mortal. Do not forget to tell them that I always thought of them, Will.”
“ ’Od’s mercy, Jack!” said I, “what is he talking about? One might suppose he was going to die before ever he got out of the Castle.”
“And what have I to live for?” groaned Ben. “I am a ruined man. Alas! thou knowest not what terrible things have happened since you and Master Lisle there rode away.”
“Nay,” said Philip, “we have heard of naught particular.”
“ ’Twas but day before yesterday,” said Ben, “the Roundheads went up town and occupied my house in the Marketplace. You must know, gentlemen, that I have always kept an eye on my house, having gone up to the Round Tower three or four times a day to see if it still stood. Well, ’twas bad enough for these rogues to go and occupy my house, for between you and me I had hidden a pretty stock of goods in it before I fled to the Castle, hoping they would not be found until the siege was over, but what was my horror to find that our gunners were playing the cannon from the Swillington Tower full upon it! Yea, and continued to do so in spite of my prayers and admonitions, saying that they cared not whose house it was as long as they drove the Roundheads out of it. And now my house is a ruin, and as for the goods that I had hidden—”
“Never mind, Ben,” said I; “you will find another house easily enough.”
“And shall
