Boscobel: or, the royal oak

"Nay, we will all go in," said Charles.

Active preparations for the morning meal were being made in the hall as the king entered with his attendants.

A large fire was burning in the grate, at which Dame Joan was roasting a brace of partridges, that emitted a very delectable odour.

"Nothing can be better than those birds, dame, unless it be a broiled mutton chop?" he cried.

"There is a neck of mutton in the larder, an' please your majesty, but I fear the meat may prove too fresh," replied Joan.

"Heed not that," cried Charles. "Mutton chops are the very thing. I will broil them myself. Bring me the gridiron, dame."

Very much amused by the order, Joan obeyed, and the chops being duly prepared, were skilfully broiled by the king, who never for a moment quitted his post, but turned them with a fork when requisite.

While he was thus employed, William Penderel came in, and could scarcely believe his eyes when he found the king standing before the fire. But the faithful fellow did not remain long in doors, for he was now left alone for a time, his brothers having gone to their homes.

Having completed his task to his entire satisfaction, and the infinite amusement of the lookers-on, Charles proceeded to the head of the table, and bidding Careless and the page sit down on either side of him, the chops were served by Joan, and greatly enjoyed. Charles insisted that the good dame should taste his cookery, but she would touch nothing till she had served the partridges. She then discussed the chop at the lower end of the table, and declared, no doubt with truth, that she had never tasted aught so good in her life.

CHAPTER XI.

WHAT BROUGHT FATHER HUDDLESTONE TO BOSCOBEL

After breakfast, Charles, attended by Careless, went out into the garden, and having previously consulted William Penderel, who did not seek to dissuade him from the step, visited the oak, and remained for a long time contemplating it with mingled gratitude and admiration. How majestic looked the tree on that morning! Before quitting it Charles spread his arms round its trunk in a loving embrace.

On returning to the garden, Charles proceeded to the arbour, and sat down within it. So pleasant was the spot, that for a short time he surrendered himself to the enjoyment of the moment, and sank into a calm reverie, from which he was rather rudely disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps, and looking out he saw Father Huddlestone, accompanied by Careless. Greeting the priest with much respect, he met him at the top of the mount, and led him into the arbour, graciously praying him to be seated.

"All good saints bless your majesty!" exclaimed the priest, "and guard you from your enemies. I have just come from Moseley Hall, and am the bearer of a message to your majesty from Lord Wilmot. His lordship is in great anxiety on your majesty's account – very alarming reports having reached him, which I am glad to find are unfounded, and he implores you to come on to Moseley Hall, where he feels sure you will be safe. To his lordship's entreaties I would add those of my patron, Mr. Whitgreave, who places his house at your disposal, and has means, almost better than any other person, of offering you a secure asylum at this dangerous juncture. To these entreaties, my gracious liege," continued the good priest, earnestly, "I will add my own. Do not remain here too long. Your enemies have been temporarily baffled in their quest, but I fear they will renew it, since their obstinacy is great."

The king listened attentively to what was said to him.

"I intended to remain here for a few days, holy father, till the danger should be blown over," he said. "But I perceive there is too much risk in doing so. Loth, therefore, as I am to leave Boscobel, I will come to Moseley Hall to-night."

"Your majesty has determined well," said Father Huddlestone. "But I entreat you to take a sufficient guard with you. The forest is full of rebel troopers. No doubt the trusty Penderels will guard you."

"I can count upon them," replied Charles.

"I will speak with William Penderel myself, before I depart," said the priest.

"Do you depart soon, father?"

"Almost immediately, sire. I return by Chillington."

"Then come in at once and take some refreshment."

And rising as he spoke, the king led the way to the house.

As the king and Father Huddlestone walked on, they perceived Careless and the page leaning from an open lattice window to the room on the ground floor. Thus seen they formed a very pretty picture. On his majesty's approach they would have drawn back, but he marched up to the window to speak to them.

"A change has taken place in my plans," he said. "Father Huddlestone is returning immediately to Moseley Hall. You must both go with him."

"And leave you here, sire?" cried Careless. "I do not like the arrangement at all. But, of course, I must obey your majesty's orders."

"If all goes well, I shall rejoin you to-morrow at Moseley," said the king. "I shall travel at night, and with a sufficient escort."

"But why am I not to form one of your majesty's escort?" asked Careless.

"Because you are wanted elsewhere," replied Charles, smiling.

"Well, since it must be, it must," said Careless. "But your majesty may wish me at your side."

While Charles was thus conversing, the good priest entered the house, and finding Joan and her husband in the hall, paused for a moment at the open door, and bestowed a benediction upon them. They received him with the greatest respect. William placed a chair for him, and Joan quickly brought him some refreshment. While this was going on, the good father briefly explained the purport of his message to the king, and though the faithful pair were grieved to lose their important charge, they raised no objection.

At this juncture Charles came in.

"My good friends," he said, "I perceive from your countenances that Father Huddlestone has told you I must leave you. Never shall I forget your kindness to me, and I desire to express my gratitude in the good father's presence."

"Your feelings do you honour, my liege," said Father Huddlestone, rising. "Your majesty may rest assured that you have not more devoted subjects than the Penderels. As to Dame Joan – "

"Her price is above rubies," interrupted the king. "I know it. Be seated, I pray, your reverence, and heed not my presence. I have more hard work for you, William, and for your trusty brothers. To-night you must all escort me to Moseley Hall."

"We will all be ready, my liege, and shall account it no hardship," replied William. "We will take with us our brother-in-law, Francis Yates. We can trust him as we can trust ourselves."

"The husband of the good woman who visited me in Spring Coppice?" observed Charles.

"The same, sire."

"Then he is well mated," said the king.

"You must all go armed, William," remarked Father Huddlestone, gravely – "armed, and prepared to resist to the death. I warn you there is danger."

"We will go fully prepared for any event," rejoined William Penderel, resolutely. "We cannot do better than die for the king."

"That is a sentiment I have always inculcated," said the father.

"And I have not forgotten it, your reverence." Then turning to the king, he added, "I will bid Humphrey bring his horse for your majesty. Moseley Hall is a long way off, and your majesty looks somewhat footsore."

"Oddsfish! I could not walk half a dozen miles without falling dead lame," cried Charles. "By all means let me have Humphrey's nag."

Soon afterwards, Careless and the page, neither of whom had any preparations to make, came in to bid adieu to Joan and her worthy spouse; and Father Huddlestone, declaring he was sufficiently rested and refreshed, rose to depart.

Before bidding adieu to Careless, the king gave him some instructions in private, saying, as he left him at the garden gate,

"If we do not meet again, you will know what to do."

Charles did not wait for any reply, but, as if afraid of betraying the emotion he felt, walked quickly towards the arbour. On gaining the summit of the mount, he looked round and saw that Father Huddlestone and his two companions were gazing anxiously at him from the skirts of the wood. Waving his hand to them, he entered the arbour, and was for some time lost in painful reflection.

End of Book the Third

Book the Fourth.