“Ah!” said Ben, “what a beautiful thing is a piece of fresh meat! And what a spirit it doth put into a man! I feel as if I could go forth and fight every Roundhead that ever was born, including Cromwell himself. However, I am not on duty tonight, and am well content to sit here, gentlemen, with my pipe of tobacco and my pot of wine—I could not lay hand on any glass, Master Lisle—and hearken to the lads outside firing at the crop-eared knaves that besiege us. But now, Master Lisle, what do you think of these matters? Which will prevail, Roundhead or Cavalier?”
“Nay, Ben,” said Philip, “ ’tis more than I can say. The prospect is not over-promising for us at present, I think, for the Parliamentarians are more resolved than ever. And yet I cannot think that this people of England will throw down the monarchy altogether. Thrown down for a season it may be; but if Charles the First is deposed, Charles the Second will reign in his stead.”
“Alas!” said Ben, “we are in a pretty coil. But come, lads, ’tis my birthday, so let us be merry. We shall have time enow for sorrow tomorrow. Jack, lad, give us a song such as you used to sing in the old days when neither Roundhead nor Cavalier vexed our souls.”
“Yes, give us a song, Jack,” said I. “It seems an age since I heard your voice.”
“I have but a poor voice,” said Jack, “for it hath had little practice of late and is grown rusty. However, you shall have a little song that I made one night recently as I sat by the campfire.”
He filled his mug with wine from the cask, and having drank, gave us the following verses:
“Pledge me, pledge me, Phyllis mine,
In this cup of rosy wine!
Drink to Life, to Love, to Laughter,
Drink to everything that’s jolly,
Hence with time and the hereafter,
And with aught that’s melancholy.
Let’s drive forth all care and sorrow
To the never-born tomorrow.“Kiss me, kiss me, Phyllis mine,
While my eyes look into thine!
There I see two laughing fairies
Full of love and mischief making,
Whose emotion quickly varies,
Now with roguish laughter shaking,
Then with sudden seriousness
Asking for a long caress.“Pledge me, pledge me, Phyllis mine,
While the liquor leaps divine!
Wreath the cups with showers of roses,
White and red and pink and yellow,
Weave them into fragrant posies
Round about the wine so mellow,
That with flowers and song we may
Lie and laugh the whole spring day.“Pledge me, pledge me, Phyllis mine,
While the April skies are fine!
Spring’s the time for love and laughing,
Tender glance and shy caresses;
Wherefore let’s the bowl be quaffing
While the sun through these bright tresses
Shoots his amorous beams and tries
To catch the gold that in them lies.”
We had barely ceased applauding Jack’s song, when a knock came at our door and a voice inquired if Master Dale stayed within.
“ ’Tis Belwether’s voice,” said Ben. “He has returned from Newark. Come in, Master Belwether, and drink my health. We are having a party in honour of my birthday. Nay, man, be not bashful. Sit thee down and drink off thy pot.”
“Your good health, Master Tuckett,” said Belwether. “Nay, gentlemen, I had no idea of what you were at, but, as you know, the Governor sent me to Newark t’other day, and I am just come in again, and did wish for Master Dale there so that I could give him a letter that his mother entrusted to my care as I passed Dale’s Field an hour ago.”
“Are they all well there?” I asked, as he gave me the letter. “Indeed I am beholden to you for this service. We had had no news of them for a fortnight—had we, Ben?”
“Open thy letter and read,” said Ben. “Master Belwether, another pot of wine for thy good news. Now, Will, read it aloud.”
But I had gone to the light and was reading the letter before he spoke, and all of a sudden I let the sheet fall from my hand and fell back against the wall, overwhelmed by the evil tidings I saw there.
“Bad news!” cried Jack, and seized me, while Ben picked up the letter and the other two came to my side. “Let me be, Jack—see, I am all right again. Read, read, Ben, ’tis bad news indeed.”
It was but a short letter from my mother, telling me that all was well with them, but that three days earlier two messengers had arrived at Dale’s Field, bringing a note from Philip Lisle to Rose, saying that he lay wounded to death in Derbyshire and begging her to go to him at once. Whereupon, under the escort of the two messengers, she had set out in obedience to her father’s dying wish. That was all.
We looked into each other’s faces as Ben finished, and each saw dismay and fear on the other’s countenance. “Villainy, villainy,” muttered Jack. “The father is here, alive and well. Who hath done it?”
So we stood for a moment until Philip Lisle seized my arm and dragged me from the room. “We must follow!” said he. “Would God we had known of this three days ago!” And so presently we were on our horses and stealing through the enemy’s lines, and once clear of them we headed for Dale’s Field as fast as our steeds could carry us.
XXXIII
Of Our Ride in Search of Rose
We rode in silence down the rough lane that leads from Baghill to Darrington, keeping along the stretch of grass at the wayside as much as possible, so that the sound of our horses’ feet might be deadened. Down the hill we went into Darrington, and past the crossroads, where two or three men still lingered at the door of the inn and watched us curiously as we sped along. All that time we had spoken no word, but both of us
