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In Honour's Cause: A Tale of the Days of George the First, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 36. The Worst News |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. THE WORST NEWS Next morning Frank rose in his old quarters, firmly determined to keep to his decision. It was very kind and generous of the Prince, he felt; but his position would be intolerable, and his mother would not be able to bear an existence fraught with so much misery; and, full of the intention to see her and beg her to prevail on the Princess to let them leave, he waited his time. But it did not come that day. He had to return to his duties in the Prince's anteroom, and at such times as he was free he found that his mother was engaged with her royal mistress. The next day found him more determined than ever; but another, a greater, and more unexpected obstacle was in the way. He went to his mother's apartments, to find that, worn out with sorrow and anxiety, she had taken to her bed, and the Princess's physician had seen her and ordered complete rest, and that she should be kept free from every anxiety. "How can I go now!" thought the boy; "and how can she be kept free from anxiety!" It was impossible in both cases, while with the latter every scrap of news would certainly be brought to her, for the Palace hummed with the excitement of the troubles in the north; and as the day glided by there came the news that the Earl of Mar had set up the standard of the Stuarts in Scotland, and proclaimed Prince James King of Great Britain; but the Pretender himself remained in France, waiting for the promised assistance of the French Government, which was slow in coming. Still the Scottish nobles worked hard in the Prince's cause, and by degrees the Earl of Mar collected an army of ten thousand fighting men, including the staunch Highlanders, who readily assumed claymore and target at the gathering of the clans. It was over the English rising that Frank was the more deeply interested, and he eagerly hungered for every scrap of news which was brought to the Palace, Captain Murray hearing nearly everything, and readily responding to the boy's questions, though he always shook his head and protested that it would do harm and unsettle him. "You'd better shut up your ears, Frank lad, and go on with your duties," he said one day. "But tell me first, what is the last news about Lady Gowan?" "Ill, very ill," said the boy wearily. "All this is killing her." "Then the bad news ought to be kept from her." "Bad news!" gasped Frank. "Is it then so bad?" "Of course; isn't it all bad?" "Oh!" ejaculated the boy; "I thought there was something fresh-- something terrible. But how can the news be kept from her? The Princess goes and sits with her every day, and then tells her everything. She learns more than I do, and gets it sooner; but I can't go and ask her, for I always feel as if it were cruel and torturing her to make her speak about our great trouble while she is so ill. Now, tell me all you know." "It is not much, boy. The Duke of Argyle is busy; he is now appointed to the command of the King's forces in Scotland, and some troops are being landed from Ireland to join his clans." "Yes, yes; but in England?" cried the boy. "My father is not in Scotland. It is about what is going on in England that I want to know." It was always the same, and by degrees, as the days went by, Frank learned that his father had, with other gentlemen, joined the Earl of Derwentwater, and that they were threatening Newcastle. It seemed an age before the next tidings came, and Frank's heart sank, while those in the Palace were holding high festival, for the Pretender's little army there had been beaten off, and was in retreat through Cumberland on the way to Lancashire. A little later came news that in the boy's secret heart made him rejoice and brought gloom into the Palace. For it soon leaked out that the county militias had been assembled hastily to check the Pretender's forces, but only to be put to flight and scattered in all directions. Then despatch after despatch reached the Palace from the north, all containing bad news. The rebels had marched on, carrying everything before them till they neared Preston in triumph. "Then they'll go on increasing in strength," whispered Frank, as he sat with Captain Murray on the evening of the receipt of that news, "and march right on to London!" "Want them to?" said the captain drily. "Yes--no--no--yes--I don't know." "Nice loyal sort of a servant the Prince has got," said the captain. "Don't talk to me like that, Captain Murray," said the boy passionately. "I feel that I hate for the rebels to succeed; but how can I help wishing my father success?" "No, you cannot," said the captain quietly. "But he will not succeed, my lad. He and the others are in command of a mere rabble of undisciplined men, and before long on their march they will be met by some of the King's forces sent to intercept them." "Yes, yes," cried the boy, with his cheeks flushing, "and then?" "What is likely to happen in spite of the training of the leaders? The undrilled men cannot stand against regular troops, even if they are enthusiastic. No: disaster must come sooner or later, and then there is only one chance for us, Frank." "For us? I thought you said that the King's troops would win." "Yes, and they will. I as a soldier feel that it must be so. We shall win; but I say there is only one chance for us as friends--a quick escape for your father to the coast and taking refuge in France. We must not have him taken, Frank, come what may." "Thank you, Captain Murray," said the boy, laying his hand on his friend's sleeve. "You have made me happier than I have felt for days." "And it sounds very disloyal, my boy; but I can't help my heart turning to my old friend to wish him safe out of the rout." "Then you think it will be a rout?" panted Frank. "It must be sooner or later. They may gain a few little advantages by surprise, or the cowardice of the troops; but those successes can't last, and when the defeat comes it will be the greater, and mean a complete end to a mad scheme." "But the Prince must be with them by this time, sir." "The Pretender? No; he is still in France without coming forward, and leaving the misguided men who would place him on the throne to be slaughtered for aught he seems to care." Captain Murray proved to be a true prophet, for he had spoken on the basis of his experience of what properly trained men could do against troops hastily collected, and badly armed men whose discipline was of the rudest description. Sooner even than the captain had anticipated the news came in a despatch brought from the north of England. The Pretender's forces, under Lords Derwentwater, Kenmuir, and Nithsdale, were encountered by the King's troops; and before the two bodies joined battle a summons was sent to the rebel army calling upon the men to lay down their arms or be attacked without mercy. The Pretender's generals tried to treat the summons to surrender with contempt, laughed at it, and bade their followers to stand fast and the victory would be theirs. But, in spite of the exhortations of their officers, the sight of the King's regular troops drawn up in battle array proved too much for the raw forces. Probably they were wearied with marching and the many difficulties they had had to encounter. Their enthusiasm leaked out, life seemed far preferable to death, and they surrendered at discretion. There was feasting and rejoicing at Saint James's that night, when the news came of the bloodless victory; while in one of the apartments mother and son were shut up alone in the agony of their misery and despair, for whatever might be the fate of the common people of the Pretender's army, the action of the King toward all who opposed him was known to be of merciless severity. The leaders of the rebellion could expect but one fate--death by the executioner. "But, mother, mother! oh, don't give way to despair like that," cried Frank. "We have heard so little yet. Father would fight to the last before he would fly; but when all was over he would be too clever for the enemy, and escape in safety to the coast." "No," said Lady Gowan, in tones which startled her son. "Your father, Frank, would never desert the men he had led. It would be to victory or death. It was not to victory they marched that day." "But his name is not mentioned in the despatch." "No," said Lady Gowan sadly. "Nor is that of Colonel Forbes." "Ah!" cried Frank; "and poor Drew, he would be there." At last he was compelled to quit the poor, suffering woman; but before going to his own chamber, he went over to the officers' quarters, to try and see Captain Murray. There was a light in his room, and the sound of voices in earnest conversation; and Frank was turning back, to go and sit alone in his despair, when he recognised the doctor's tones, and he knocked and entered. The eager conversation stopped on the instant, as the two occupants of the room saw the boy's anxious, white face looking inquiringly from one to the other. "Come in and sit down," said Captain Murray, in a voice which told of his emotion; "sit down, my boy." Frank obeyed in silence, trying hard to read the captain's thoughts. "You have come from your mother?" "Yes; she is very ill." "She has heard of the disaster, then?" "Yes. The Princess went and broke it to her as gently as she could." "And she told you?" "Yes; she sent for me as soon as she heard." "Poor lady!" said the captain. "Amen to that," said the doctor huskily; and he pulled out his snuff-box, and took three pinches in succession, making himself sneeze violently as an excuse for taking out his great red-and-yellow silk handkerchief and using it to a great extent. "Hah!" he said at last, as he looked across at Frank, with his eyes quite wet; "and poor old Robert Gowan! Rebel, they call him; but we here, Frank, can only look upon him more as brother than friend." "But," cried the boy passionately, "there is hope for him yet. He is not taken, in spite of what my mother said. He would have escaped to the coast, and made again for France." "What did your mother say?" asked Captain Murray, looking at the boy fixedly. "My mother say? That my father would never forsake the men whom he was leading to victory or death." "Yes; she was right, Frank, my lad. He would never turn his back on his men to save himself." "Of course not, till the day was hopelessly lost." "Not when the day was hopelessly lost," said Captain Murray, so sternly that Frank took alarm. "Why do you speak to me like that?" he cried, rising from his seat. "His name was not in the despatch. Ah! you have heard. There is something worse behind. Oh, Captain Murray, don't say that he was killed." "I say," said that officer sadly, "it were better that he had been killed--that he had died leading his men, as a brave officer should die." "Then he did not," cried Frank, with a hoarse sigh of relief. "No, he escaped that." "And to liberty?" "No, my boy, no," said the doctor, uttering a groan. "But I tell you that his name was not in the despatch. He couldn't have been taken prisoner." There was silence in the room, and the candles for want of snuffing were very dim. "Why don't you speak to me?" cried Frank passionately. "Am I such a boy that you treat me as a child?" "My poor lad! You must know the truth," said Captain Murray gently. "Your father's and Colonel Forbes's names are both in the despatch as prisoners." "No, no, no!" cried Frank wildly. "The Princess--" "Kept the worst news back, to try and spare your poor mother pain. It is as I always feared." "Then you are right," moaned Frank; and he uttered a piteous cry. "Yes, it would have been better if he had died." For the headsman's axe seemed to be glimmering in the black darkness ahead, and he shuddered as he recalled once more what he had seen on Temple Bar. _ |
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