Boscobel: or, the royal oak

"And the hiding-place shall be ready; but I sincerely trust your majesty may not require it."

"I hope so too," rejoined Charles. "But there is no certainty of my departure."

They then proceeded towards the house, but had not gone far when they met Dr. Henchman coming towards them.

"I am about to return to Salisbury immediately," he said. "Has your majesty any message for Lord Wilmot? I am sure to find him with Mr. John Coventry."

"Tell him to meet me at Stonehenge," replied Charles. "He must come prepared for a ride to the Sussex coast."

"I will tell him exactly what you say, my liege," rejoined Dr. Henchman.

"Perhaps he may bring me news," said the king. "Perhaps I may have news to give him. In any case, let him be prepared."

"Heaven protect your majesty!" exclaimed Dr. Henchman. "I trust your deliverance is at hand!"

With a profound obeisance he departed, and Charles and Mrs. Hyde returned to the house.

The king found his attendants in the hall, and at once communicated his intentions to them. After breakfast the whole party took leave of Mrs. Hyde and her brother-in-law, mounted their horses, and set off apparently for Salisbury.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HOW CHARLES ENCOUNTERED DESBOROUGH ON SALISBURY PLAIN

After riding for a short distance along the banks of the Avon, the party separated, Colonel Philips and Colonel Wyndham proceeding towards Salisbury in the expectation of meeting Lord Wilmot, and perhaps Colonel Gunter; and the king and his fair companion, attended by Careless, shaping their course in the direction of Stonehenge, which was fixed as the general place of rendezvous.

Salisbury Plain has a charm of its own, which those who rode across it on that fine October morning fully experienced. Juliana was enchanted with the strange novelty of the scene, and allowed her gaze to wander over the apparently boundless expanse of turf. Not a tree could be seen – not a solitary cottage – not a shed – the undulating surface of the plain being only broken by the numerous barrows, that seemed to have been heaved up from the sod like gigantic mole-hills. Here and there a shepherd, looking grey as the turf itself, and tending a flock of sheep, could be distinguished. A singular cluster of sepulchral tumuli attracted them, and they spent some little time in examining the group. On coming forth from among the barrows they aroused a flock of bustards, and watched them scud swiftly over the plain, hallooing after them, and almost tempted to give them chase.

So occupied were they with the bustards that they did not perceive till they turned that a strong regiment of horse was advancing across the plain. Deeming a bold course the safest, Charles rode straight on, and Careless kept by his side. To ride through the ranks of the enemy was certainly a daring thing to do, but the perfect confidence with which the action was performed insured its success. The men looked sternly at them, but discovering nothing suspicious in their manner, allowed them to pass on. The danger, however, was not over. Behind the rear guard rode the commander of the regiment – a heavy, ungainly, sullen-looking personage, but richly accoutred. With him was an orderly.

"'Tis Old Noll's brother-in-law, Desborough!" whispered Careless.

"I know him," replied the king. "Heaven grant he may not know me!"

Desborough, it appeared, did not mean to let them pass unquestioned. Reining in his steed, he signed to them to stop. At the same time the orderly drew his sword, and called out, in an authoritative voice:

"Stand! Major-General Desborough, Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the West, would speak with you."

Uncovering at this address, both of them remained stationary.

Desborough bent his lowering brows upon them, and fixed his eye upon the king. Charles, however, did not quail beneath his searching glance.

"Look at that man, Colville," said Desborough. "Look at him well. Hast seen him before?"

"I do not think so, general," replied the orderly. "Yet the face seems familiar to me."

It was an anxious moment, for Desborough's brow grew darker, but Juliana interposed.

"You cannot have seen my husband before, general," she cried; "unless you have been to Salisbury, for he has never been further from the city than Amesbury, whither we are going now."

"Is the young man thy husband?" demanded Desborough, in a tone that implied some doubt. "Attempt not to deceive me."

"We have been married a twelvemonth," she replied. "And not for a single hour have we been separated since we became man and wife."

"That's much to say," remarked Desborough.

"But there are plenty of persons who can testify to the truth of the statement. My brother Amyas will tell you that Orlando Jermyn – that's my husband's name – and his wife are accounted the happiest couple in Sarum."

"Since you are so well satisfied I will not say you might have made a better choice," observed Desborough. "But I think your husband may esteem himself lucky."

"He tells me so repeatedly," she replied; "and I am bound to believe him. Have you any more questions to ask me?"

Desborough looked again searchingly at Charles, but perceiving no change in his demeanour, and noticing, moreover, that the others seemed quite unconcerned, he signed to them to go on. The orderly sheathed his sword.

Respectfully saluting the major-general, Charles and his attendant proceeded quietly on their way. After a brief colloquy with the orderly, Desborough moved on, to Juliana's great relief.

"At last he is gone!" she exclaimed. "Did I not act my part bravely?"

"Admirably," replied Charles. "You have saved me from the greatest peril in which I have yet been placed. Desborough, I could plainly see, suspected me. But you puzzled him."

Halting near a barrow, they watched the regiment as long as it remained in sight. They then rode on towards Stonehenge, which loomed in the distance.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE PARTING AT STONEHENGE

There stand those grey mysterious circles of stones, that for centuries have braved the storms that have beaten upon the wide dreary plain on which they have been placed – none can tell how, or when. There they stand – stern, solemn, hoar, crusted with lichens, incomprehensible, enigmatical as the Sphinx; muttering tales of days forgotten, and of a people whose habits, customs, and creed are no longer understood. So strange and mysterious are the old stones, that no wonder the wildest fables have been told of them. Some have thought the pile was reared by magic art, others have deemed it the work of the Evil One, intended by him as a temple where unhallowed rites might be practised. But by whatever giant hands the mighty pile was reared, in whatever age and for whatever purpose – hallowed, or unhallowed – whether as an altar for human sacrifice, as a court of justice, or as a place of execution, all is now dim conjecture. There the huge stones stand as of yore, but their history is clean forgotten.

Though a couple of centuries are little in the history of Stonehenge, a great change has taken place since Charles visited the wondrous monument. A change for the worse. The mighty stones are there, but the aspect of the spot is altered. The genius of solitude that brooded over the pile has fled – fled with the shy bustard that once haunted its mystic circles, and with the ravens that perched on the stones. The wide rolling surface of the plain was then wholly uncultivated. Nothing was to be seen except the clustering barrows, and the banks that marked what is now called, with what truth we know not, a Roman cursus.

Charles approached the pile by an avenue edged by grassy banks, gazing with wonder, not unmixed with awe, at the gigantic circles. As he rode slowly on he came to a single upright stone, and paused to look at it.

Familiar with the legends of the spot, Careless informed the king that the stone was called "The Friar's Heel."

"The tale runs," he said, "that while the Evil One was engaged in constructing those mysterious circles, a friar passed by, and was indiscreet enough to make some disparaging remark upon the works. Having done so, he fled. The Demon, in a rage, hurled a huge stone at him, and grazed his heel, but did not check him. There stands the stone, deeply plunged in the earth, to prove the truth of the legend."

Passing through the outer circle of smaller stones, they dismounted, and fastening up their horses to an obelisk-shaped fragment, surveyed the mighty ruin, examining the trilithons and monoliths.

"There is a superstition," observed Careless, "that these stones cannot be counted alike twice."

"I have heard it," replied Charles; "and I remember what Sir Philip Sydney says on the subject:

Near Wilton sweet huge heaps of stones are found.
But so confused, that neither any eye
Can count them just, nor reason reason try
What force them brought to so unlikely ground.

"Let us make the attempt. 'Twill serve to pass the time till our friends arrive. Do you think you can count them?" he said to Juliana.

"I will try, my liege," she replied. "Where shall I begin?"