The Manchester Rebels of the Fatal '45

"No matter how it has been obtained," remarked Charles, sternly. "Is it true?"

"It is correct in the main," replied the baronet. "Although I would gladly be excused from giving any further explanation, I shall be willing to do so at some more convenient opportunity."

"The explanation cannot be deferred," said the prince, authoritatively. "After the levée this morning you shall have a private audience."

"I will not fail to attend upon your royal highness," replied Sir Richard, evidently much relieved.

But his brow again clouded, when the prince said:

"You will be pleased to bring your daughter with you."

"My daughter!" exclaimed the baronet. "She has nothing whatever to do with the explanation I have to offer."

"You have heard my injunction, Sir Richard. Both Miss Rawcliffe and Captain Legh must be present at the audience."

"I make no objection," replied the baronet; "but it pains me to find that I am viewed with suspicion by your royal highness, to whom I have given unquestionable proofs of my zeal and devotion."

"Justice must be done, Sir Richard," rejoined the prince, sternly. "If there has been a wrong it must be righted. The mystery attaching to this young man's birth must be cleared up, and since you are able to give the information required, you are bound to furnish it. I shall expect you and Miss Rawcliffe after the levée."

Then turning to Colonel Townley, he added: "All obstacles to a perfect reconciliation between you and Sir Richard are now removed. I hope, therefore, to have the pleasure of seeing you shake hands, and trust you will become as good friends as ever."

The injunction having been complied with, the prince prepared to take his departure, saying:

"After a morning duel in France, all those engaged in it – if the principals are fortunately unhurt, or but slightly wounded – make a point of breakfasting together, and I don't see why the custom should not be adopted in this country."

"Nor I," cried Colonel Townley. "I have gained an excellent appetite."

"Then I shall expect you all at breakfast an hour hence," said the prince. "I have much to do to-day. Among other important matters I have to attend the muster of your Manchester Regiment," he added to Colonel Townley.

"I was afraid your royal highness might be prevented," said the colonel. "And that would have been a great disappointment to us. I trust you do not feel any ill effects from the rough shake you got last night."

"A little stiffness – that is all," replied Charles.

"Have you come to any determination in regard to Weir?" inquired Colonel Ker. "Is he to be shot?"

"No," replied the prince. "I shall send him to the Duke of Cumberland. Now for a ride round the town. I shall be back in time for breakfast. Au revoir!"

With this he bounded up the side of the hollow and rode off in the direction of the town, followed by the orderly.

CHAPTER XXI.

CASTLE FIELD

It was a fine November morning, and as the surrounding hills were clearly distinguishable, the prince enjoyed the prospect as he cantered along.

The atmosphere being free from smoke as well as fog, the town had a bright, clean, and cheerful look, which it seldom wears now-a-days. What would Charles have thought if he could have conjured up in imagination the smoky factories and huge warehouses now covering the pleasant orchards and gardens near which he rode?

Manchester in '45, as we have already stated, resembled a country town, and on no side was the resemblance more complete than on this, since not more than half a dozen scattered habitations could be descried, the upper end of Market Street being then really a lane.

But though the outskirts of the town were quiet enough, it was evident from the tumultuous sounds that reached the ear, not only that the inhabitants generally were astir, but that the numerous companies billeted upon them were likewise moving about.

The call of the bugle resounded from various quarters, and the beating of the drum was heard in almost every street. Charles listened delightedly to sounds that proclaimed the presence of his army. He thought of the advance he had already made – how another week's march would bring him to London; his breast beat high with hope and ardour; and he fully believed at that moment that his romantic expedition would be crowned with success.

Just then the bells of all the churches began to ring, and their joyful peals heightened his enthusiasm.

Not wishing to enter the town, he commanded the orderly to guide him to Castle Field; upon which the man rode on in front, and describing a wide circuit then entirely unbuilt upon, but now converted into densely-populated districts and large streets, brought him at last to a large open piece of ground, almost encircled by the river Medlock, and partly surrounded by the crumbling walls of an old Roman-British castle, in the centre of which the artillery was parked.

Not far from the field-pieces were the powder carriages; while a large portion of the area was occupied by baggage-waggons; the remainder of the space being filled by artillerymen and their horses.

No better place in the town or neighbourhood could have been found for the purpose. Castle Field would have accommodated double the number of cannon, and thrice the men, it now held.

It was a very pleasant spot, and a favourite resort of the townsfolk. Sports of various kinds took place within the ring, and an annual fair was held there. But it had never looked more picturesque than it did now, filled as it was with cannon, ammunition, baggage-waggons, sumpter-horses, and men.

Early as was the hour, there were numerous spectators on the spot – women as well as men, for the artillery was a great attraction – and some dozens had climbed the old walls, and planted themselves on the top, to obtain a better view of the novel scene.

As soon as the crowd collected on Castle Field became aware of the prince's arrival, they gathered around him, cheering and expressing heartfelt satisfaction that he had escaped the treacherous attack made upon him overnight.

There could be no doubt from the enthusiasm displayed that the prince's escape had greatly increased his popularity, all those who got near him declaring they were ready to defend him to the death.

Warmly thanking them for their zeal, Charles extricated himself from the press, and was joined by the Duke of Perth, and some officers of artillery, with whom he rode over the field, examining different matters as he went along.

While making this inspection he encountered many ladies, from all of whom he received congratulations, and to whom he had something agreeable to say.

Amongst others, whose curiosity had induced them to pay an early visit to Castle Field, was Beppy. She had come thither, attended by Helen Carnegie.

Charles stopped to speak to the young lady, and noticing that she was decked in white, and wore a St. Andrew's cross, he said, "You have not forgotten, I perceive, Miss Byrom, that this is the fête-day of our Scottish patron saint."

"I was reminded of it by Helen Carnegie, your highness," replied Beppy. "She came to tell me of your most fortunate escape, for which I cannot be sufficiently grateful, and offered to make me a cross."

"No one has done me a like good turn," laughed Charles.

"Here is a braw St. Andrew's cross, if your royal highness will deign to wear it," cried Helen, offering him one.

Charles smiled his thanks, and fastened the cross to his jacket.

"Are you staying with Miss Byrom, Helen?" he inquired.

"'Deed I am, your royal highness," she replied.

"She will have a lodging at my father's house so long as the army remains in the town," added Beppy.

"I am glad to hear it," replied the prince. "I am certain she will be well cared for."

He then bowed graciously to the young lady, and bestowing a parting smile on Helen, rode on.

But he soon came to another halt.

A little further off he discovered Constance Rawcliffe and Monica. They were attended by Father Jerome. Graciously saluting the two damsels, and bowing to the priest, he said to Miss Rawcliffe: