Crown and Sceptre Part 58

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

TOWARDS HOME.

Weeks followed of desultory warfare. One day messengers came bringing news to the little inn--which had gradually become head-quarters from the coming there of General Hedley, and the centre to which reinforcements were continually gathering--that the king's men were once more in force, and preparations were made for a hasty move.

"Far sooner than I could wish, my boy," said the colonel, as he sat beside his son after a busy day.

"But I feel quite strong again, father," pleaded Fred. "You are too anxious about me."

"Too anxious, my boy? No, I think not. Well, you will have to try and sit your horse again, even if you are a non-combatant."

"Which way shall we retreat?" asked Fred.

"Retreat? Who said anything about retreat?" cried a stern voice, and General Hedley entered the room. "Oh, you, eh, boy?" he continued, shaking one of his buff gauntlets at the convalescent. "Don't you let Captain Miles hear you say that again. We may move to a different position, but we will not talk of retreat yet."

Fred felt the colour burning once more in his pale cheeks, and the general went on--

"Forrester, I want a chat with you. Come into my room. I have fresh despatches."

The colonel followed his leader out of the little parlour which had been devoted to the wounded lad by the general's command, he having insisted upon its being retained when he joined them there, and tents had sprung up in all directions upon the moor close to the inn.

Directly after, there was a hoa.r.s.e cough heard outside, in company with a heavy step.

"Hem! Master Fred, sir."

"You, Samson?"

"Yes, sir. Alone, sir?"

"Yes."

"May I speak to you!"

"Yes; go on."

Samson's head appeared at the window, upon the sill of which he leaned his arms as he gazed in.

"Getting quite tidy again, arn't you, sir!" he said, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Yes, quite strong; and you?"

"Never better, sir; only wind feels a little short sometimes, and I gets too hot too soon."

"You didn't come to tell me that, Samson."

"No, sir; I come to tell you there's news in the camp."

"What of?--a movement?"

"Yes, sir; that's it."

"Do you know where we're going next!"

"No, sir; do you?"

"No, Samson; and I should say that is the general's secret. We shall know when we get there."

"Start to-morrow, don't we, sir?"

"Impossible to say. What do they say in the camp?"

"Weather-c.o.c.kery."

"What?"

"Well, sir, it's just like a vane in a wind: now it's east, now it's west, and when it ain't east or west, it's north or south. Everybody says everybody else is wrong. But we are going somewhere directly; that's for certain. And, I say, Master Fred."

"Yes?"

"How do you feel about mounting your horse again?"

"I long to, Samson. How are the poor beasts?"

"Lovely, sir. The farrier doctored the cuts and scratches they got in the skirmish, and they're pretty well healed up now. It's a cowardly thing to cut at a horse. Then you feel strong enough to have a try, sir?"

"You wait till we get the orders to start, Samson, and you shall see."

Samson rubbed his hands and began to smile, but the pleasant look was ousted by a grotesque twitching of the countenance.

"What's the matter?"

"I always forget, sir. Wound reminds me when I go too fast, and aren't careful. All right again soon, though. Don't hear no noos of the war being over, sir, I s'pose?"

"No, Samson, none. Tired of it?"

"Tired, sir? I don't know about tired, but I can't help thinking of the manor now and then, and what sort of a state my garden will be in. Why, Master Fred, sir, you know that bit under the north wall, where the mistress's herbs and simples grow!"

"Yes."

"Well, sir, I shan't know that bit again. That there patch in partic'lar 'll be one big touzle o' weeds, and--"

_Tantara, tantara, tantara_! A trumpet rang out, sending a thrill through Fred, as he grasped its meaning, and that of the blasts that followed, with the rush of feet and trampling of horses. For a messenger had come in bearing a despatch, and in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce of time tents were struck, baggage waggons loaded, and the little force was marching slowly to the west, Fred having only time to shake hands with his little nurse, and a.s.sure the landlord for the fiftieth time that he forgave him for being the cause of his wounds, and was most grateful for the kindness he had received.

Then, to his intense delight, he was once more mounted on his horse, which gave a whinny of recognition as his master patted his neck and smoothed his velvet muzzle. The trumpets rang out the advance, and with the sun flashing from the men's arms, the array moved slowly off, and the youth's eyes sparkled as he drew in long breaths of the soft sweet air, while he gazed wonderingly in the direction they were taking, his breast filled with new hopes, in which he was afraid to indulge, lest they should prove to be false.

The longing to question his superior officers was intense, though he knew that even they would probably be in ignorance of their route; and never before had he felt so strongly that a soldier is only a portion of one great piece of mechanism moved by one--the general in command.

As they settled down at last into the line of march, Fred found himself for the present with the staff, riding behind his father, who was General Hedley's most trusted follower, but hours went on before a word pa.s.sed between father and son. Such conversation as did ensue was with Samson, who rode behind, neither being considered sufficiently recovered to go back to the regiment, but settling down to the work of aide-de-camp and orderly.