everything. What couldSir Godfrey be thinking about?"
"Nat."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know what is a soldier's first duty?"
"To fight, sir."
"No: to obey orders."
"But we aren't soldiers yet."
"I think we are; so be silent."
"Yes, sir; but if I only had leave, I'd draw my sword, gallop after thatbad brother of mine, and fetch him off his horse, or jackass, orwhatever the miserable beast is that he has his legs across."
"And kill him? Your own brother?"
"Kill him? Not I, sir. He arn't worth it. No; I'd take him prisoner,nearly knock his head off, and then I'd tie his hands to the tail of myhorse, and drag him to the king's camp in triumph."
Scarlett made no answer, for he had no faith in his servant's threats;and together they rode on and on after Sir Godfrey, over the pleasantmoor, and on to the cultivated lands, and then on and on still into thedarkness, which seemed, as it thickened, like the gross darkness of warand destruction, sweeping down upon the fair and sunny west.
So thought Scarlett Markham, as he still rode on through the darkness,and then his thoughts returned to home, and his mother's attitude as sheflung herself upon her knees, her clasped hands toward heaven, as sheuttered a prayer for the protection of those she loved.
Sir Godfrey made no sign. He merely turned from time to time to see ifthose he led were close behind, and then rode slowly on to join thosewhose hands were raised against their brothers--father and sons toplunge into the terrible warfare, which, once begun, seemed to know noend.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
WARLIKE EXPERIENCES.
A year rapidly passed away, during which, young and slight as they were,Scarlett Markham and Fred Forrester seemed to have changed into boyishyoung men. The excitement of a soldier's life had forced them on, andwith great rapidity they had mastered the various matters of disciplinethen known to the army. Sir Godfrey and Colonel Forrester were receivedby the opposing factions with delight, their old military knowledgemaking them invaluable, and they were at once placed in command ofregiments of horse, newly raised, and whose training caused them immenseeffort.
But the men were of splendid material, and before long Forrester's andMarkham's Horse were looked upon with respect; soon after with envy.
In these two regiments the boys from Coombeland served six months asordinary soldiers, till, partly for their ability, partly from the dashthey had shown, they were nominally raised to the rank of officers, themen of their troops willingly following the lead of the brave boys whorode with them into dangers many enough.
For, in those stern times, no father could spare his son. Those whoelected to serve had to run all risks, and the consequence was that oneither side the making of a good fighting army took but little time.
"It do me good to see you, Master Scar," Nat used to say, as he rodealways at his young master's heels. "Think of a boy like you being anorficer!"
"A very poor one, Nat."
"Nay, Master Scar, I don't know another in the regiment the men wouldsooner follow."
Equality of situation brings similarity of remark, and it was in likewords that Samson, after a tirade about his unnatural brother forfighting against him, would address his young master from the Manor.
And so another six months passed away, with the war-tide setting hereand there on the borders of Coombeland, but never spreading itsdevastating influence there. The two lads grew more and more imbuedwith the war-faith of their parties, and as they became sturdier andmore manly, hardened as they were by the rough, open air life they led,a feeling of bitterness foreign to their natures rapidly increased, tillthey were ready to speak with hate and contempt of the enemy they blamedfor destroying the peace of the land.
And all this time, to Fred and Scar, home was becoming rapidly a memory.By the merest chances, they heard that all was well, and, compelled tobe content with this scanty news, they plunged into their work again,till the roar of cannon and clash of steel became familiar as were theterrors of the scene of some desperate fight, such as modern soldierswould speak of as a desultory skirmish.
Eighteen months with the army, and, in spite of exposure, neither of theCoombeland lads had met, or, as far as they knew, been near each other,and neither of the two little parties from Hall and Manor had met with awound.
But sterner times were near at hand. After much desultory fighting, theParliamentary forces were mustering strongly in the far west, and thoseof the king had made Bristol a stronghold, and were moving on.
There were two leaders of opposing ideas, who prayed that the war mightnot sweep their way, but, as they prayed, they felt that the prayer wasvain, and their brows grew rugged as they read how surely what theydreaded must follow, and felt how likely a battle-ground the moor wouldprove in the neighbourhood of their peaceful homes.
The little petty encounters kept on day after day, week after week, asif each side was practising its men and trying their strength for somegreat fight to come, and all the while, round and about Barnstaple andaway toward Exeter, the forces were gathering, till all at once, whenleast expected, scouts came in from east and west with news that told ofa probable encounter, perhaps before another sun had set.
Those who knew best, however, were not so sanguine till after that sunhad set, and among those was General Hedley, who gradually andcautiously advanced, feeling his way step by step, each step being anatural stronghold, which would help him against the dashing onslaughtsof Charles's cavaliers.
But forty-eight hours had not elapsed before the rival forces were faceto face, when a little skirmishing took place, and then darkness put anend to the varied encounters, the combatants waiting for daylight, whena battle was bound to ensue. This fight must inevitably prove seriousto one or the other side, and either the Parliamentarian forces would bedriven back into the far west, where their scattered strength could bequenched as the remains of a fire are beaten out, or else the king's menwould be driven towards Exeter, after what must prove a deadly blow.
That night the occupants of Hall and Manor lay down to sleep withinhearing of the sentinels of each army, and the two lads, worn out withfatigue, slept heavily, to dream of the homes they were so near--dreamsfull of trouble and anxiety, as they seemed to see the sweet faces ofthose they loved anxiously listening to the roar of gun and clash ofsword, and wondering what was to be their fate and where they could fleeif matters came to the worst.
A trumpet roused Scarlett Markham from his dream of home. The deep rollof drums awakened Fred, and as daylight came, and the larks sprang fromthe dewy moor to carol high in the soft, grey, gold flecked sky, therewas the trampling of men and the snorting of horses, and then the firstgun belched forth its destroying message against the advancing forces ofthe king.
Needless to tell of that fight of brother against brother with thehorrors of the field. Hour after hour went by, hours of manoeuvring andchange of front, and always with the king's men gaining ground, anddriving back the Parliamentarians, whose position seemed to be growingdesperate. And as the Royalist leaders saw their advantage, they grewmore reckless, and urged their men on, till it seemed as if a dozenlesser fights were in progress, the grim men of the Commonwealthfighting hard to hold their own.
This went on till the afternoon, when, in their exhaustion, the king'smen paused almost with wonder at the stubborn front still presented totheir steel.
"It is their last despairing stand," said the Royalist general tohimself, and he gathered his men for a final advance upon the low hillcrowned by the enemy.
The advance was made by men wearied out, against those who had not donehalf the marching and counter-marching, and as they swept on, they sawthe change in the front for which they had looked so long--at first withtriumph, then with despair. For now General Hedley sent forward hisgrim squadrons, held so long in reserve, and, raging with their longinaction, they dashed down the slope like a thunderbolt which met theCavaliers half-way, broke through
them, rode them down, and before thetwo parts into which they were divided could recover in the slightestdegree, from the right and left flanks fresh squadrons broke down uponthem, and in five minutes the imaginary triumph had become a rout.
The king's banner that day lay low, the royal standard trailing in thedust, as a wild shout of victory was raised by the soldiers of theParliament, and the gaily caparisoned Cavaliers in bitter despair fledbroken and in disorder for their lives.
"Oh, evil fortune!" groaned Sir Godfrey, as he reluctantly galloped awaybeside his son, their jaded horses going heavily, with heaving flanks."Quick, my boy, quick!"
"Oh, father," cried Scarlett, "and we are galloping away from home."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
FRED FORRESTER'S PRISONER.
Wild nearly with excitement, Fred Forrester kept his place in the ranksof his