“It is true,” sighed Parson Drumbleforth; “it is true there have been grievances. Whenever was it not so? As for me, though I am a Royalist, I can never forget that Saul was anything but a blessing to his people. What we want, sirs, is mutual long-suffering. If the King hath his rights, so have the people theirs. If he hath his duties, so have they their duties.”
“His Majesty,” said Philip Lisle, “desires not to punish any that are well disposed, but only them that are traitorous. If any man have grievance against the State, let him make his grievance known.”
“What, to the Star Chamber?” said someone in the rear of the group. “Would he find justice there, think you?”
“At any rate,” cried Philip, “ ’tis poor work to fight against your lawful sovereign. Sir, you are a clerk and a learned man; tell us, now, is there Scriptural warrant for this rising against his Majesty? I am no saint nor much of a scholar, but I have read the Scriptures somewhat, and never did I find aught commanding men to rise up in rebellion against the lawful power.”
“It is true,” answered Parson Drumbleforth. “We are commanded to honour the King in the same precept which bids us to fear God. Moreover, we are bound as faithful servants to yield ourselves to the powers set over us, for all power is of God, who hath a fatherly care over His children, and would not allow evil to be done, though His ways do oft seem mysterious and inscrutable. Nay, truly, it is not in Holy Writ that any man finds warrant to rise up against authority.”
Now, Master Oldthwaite shook his head at this, not liking the turn of the conversation, for he was a Parliamentarian and supported that cause to his utmost; but Philip Lisle seized upon the parson’s statement eagerly, and began to appeal to us who stood round him to help in the King’s cause.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “ye hear what your vicar saith as to this matter. The King hath Scripture and reason on his side. Who can stand against these two? Gentlemen, in this contest no man can remain undecided. Ye must choose one side or the other. It must be either King or Parliament. As for me, I am for the King—God preserve him!—and whether the fight go well or ill I will stand by that until the end come. But you, sirs, will you not join me in serving under his Majesty’s banner? There are here young and lusty men of able bodies who might strike many a hearty blow for a good cause. Come, gentlemen, let me ride back to Nottingham with a goodly troop of horse behind me. Will Dale, what sayest thou? John Drumbleforth, thou art no traitor? Ben Tuckett, there is good stuff in thee. Francis Wood, thy great arms and broad shoulders should give many a swinging blow. Come, boys, say you will go forth like the men you are, to rally round your sovereign’s standard with the flower of England, and help him to subdue all his enemies. What! must I appeal in vain to you, lads of Yorkshire? In old times men were not slow in coming forward to fight for their king, and the Yorkshire lads were always in front.”
“Yorkshire favours not the King in this matter, sir,” said old Master Oldthwaite.
“Faith, sir, you are wrong, then,” said Jack Drumbleforth, “at least so far as one Yorkshire man is concerned. For here, Master Lisle, am I. I will go and fight for the King, an his Majesty will have me. I am not so tall, but I am exceedingly broad, and ye may rest assured that wherever I am there will be broken heads. So God save the King!”
“Oh, John, John!” said the Vicar. “And thou wert meant for the Church, for a man of peace.”
“Time enow for that, father, when peace comes. I shall make no worse soldier of the Church for first splitting a few skulls. Besides, I am a man of muscle, and of thew and sinew. Yes, I will go with you to the wars, Master Lisle, whether any others go or not.”
“And I will go with you,” said Francis Wood.
But beyond these two no one spoke. There were many there who were true to the throne, but they had their farms to think of, and their families, and their chief desire was that the tide of war might sweep aside and leave them and theirs untouched. So Philip Lisle at that time got small response to his pleading on the King’s behalf.
There was little more merrymaking that night, and erelong the guests had gone away along the quiet lanes. Philip Lisle, Jack, Ben, and I were left talking in the garden. The women were gossiping together in the house. As for Parson Drumbleforth, he had ridden home to his vicarage in his churchwarden’s cart.
“Will,” said Philip Lisle, as we strolled about the moonlit garden—“Will, you must join us. Here is Jack, and young Francis Wood will go. You must make a third; and you, Ben, will you not make a fourth?”
Now, when I had heard Philip Lisle’s appeal, my heart had felt a great desire to go to the wars, and I was tempted to say so at the time. But there were so many hindrances in the way that I could not see my way to saying that I would follow the King’s standard. For if I went to fight, who would look after the farm and defend the women if such times arose as would lead to their danger? An I had been all alone in those days, I would have gone willingly enough, and would have served the King to my last breath. As for the rights and wrongs of the matter I knew little, nay, I say frankly enough that I
