Boscobel: or, the royal oak

MOSELEY OLD HALL

CHAPTER I.

CHILLINGTON HOUSE

Father Huddlestone being as well acquainted with the paths through the forest as the Penderels themselves, took his companions through the thickest part of it, where they were not likely to encounter a patrol of the enemy, and brought them safely to Chillington Park.

They were now at the lower end of the long and beautiful avenue leading to the ancient mansion, but before proceeding further, the priest deemed it advisable to consult the old gate-keeper, who dwelt in the lodge adjoining the entrance of the park.

Like all the old retainers of the Giffards, John Eccleshall, the gate-keeper, was a Roman Catholic, and consequently devoted to Father Huddlestone. He informed the priest that there was no danger whatever in his entering the park, since Colonel James, with the whole of his troopers, had evacuated the hall.

"Heaven be thanked the rogues are gone to Brewood!" said the old man. "Not one is left behind. I counted them as they passed through the gate."

While Father Huddlestone was talking with the gate-keeper, Jasper's curiosity was excited by an old wooden cross standing in a small green inclosure near the lodge, and in answer to his inquiries as to why it had been placed there, the priest related the following legend:

"That is called Giffard's Cross," said Father Huddlestone, "and it was set up in old times by Sir John Giffard. Sir John, who was excessively fond of the chase, kept a collection of wild beasts, and amongst them a very beautiful, but very fierce panther, which he valued more than all the rest. One day, it chanced that this savage animal slipped out of its cage, and escaped into the park. Made aware of what had happened by the cries of his terrified household, Sir John snatched up an arbalist, and rushed out into the park, accompanied by his eldest son. He easily ascertained the direction taken by the panther, for the beast had been seen to skirt the avenue. At that time there were no gates here, and the limits of the park extended far beyond the place where we are now standing. Sir John and his son ran as swiftly as they could, and were still speeding on, when they beheld a young woman and a child coming along the road. At the same moment, they discovered the panther couched amid the fern, evidently waiting for his prey. Sir John and his son had halted, and though the distance was almost too great, the old knight prepared to launch a bolt at the beast. But while he was adjusting his cross-bow, his son remarked that he was out of breath, and fearing he might miss his aim from this cause, called out to him in French, 'Prenez haleine, tirez fort.' By this time the poor young woman had perceived her peril, and uttering a loud shriek, clasped her child to her breast, and essayed to fly. It may be by the interposition of holy Hubert," continued the priest, reverently, "whose aid Sir John invoked, that she was saved. Just as the panther was about to spring, the bolt flew, and was lodged in the animal's brain. On the spot where the mortally-wounded beast rolled on the ground, this memorial was placed. Thenceforward, also, Sir John Giffard adopted as his motto the words of counsel addressed to him by his son."

Having concluded his legend, with which Jasper was much edified, the good priest bestowed his benediction on the old gate-keeper, and the party entered the park, and proceeded along the avenue.

Viewed at a distance, Chillington House, with its grand façade, its immense oriel windows, its gables, turrets, and noble entrance porch, looked as imposing as ever, but on a nearer approach, the damage done to the mansion could be perfectly distinguished. Built by Sir John Giffard in the early part of the reign of Henry VIII., on the site of a still older edifice, Chillington House had long been kept up in magnificent style by its owners. But the Giffards were gone now, and their ancient residence being in the hands of the Parliamentary commissioners, was allowed to go to ruin. Now and then it afforded quarters to a detachment of soldiers, who took possession of it, without authority, and did an infinitude of mischief.

The old mansion was approached by an extremely picturesque avenue of mingled oaks and hollies, and it was along this beautiful avenue, in 1576, that Queen Elizabeth rode, attended by a splendid cortége, when she visited John Giffard, grandson of the builder of the mansion.

At that time, the park, which was of vast extent, was well stocked with deer, for the old lords of Chillington were great hunters. At the rear of the mansion the park extended to Codsall, and in this part there were several large pools, of which a more particular description will be given hereafter. At a subsequent period these pools were joined together, and now form a large and beautiful lake. Attached to the house were stables that might have befitted a palace, and these were spared by the troopers, who spared nothing else about the place, because they found them convenient.

Placed on a rising ground, Chillington House not only looked down the long avenue we have described, but commanded an extensive prospect over a beautifully wooded country. Familiar with this lovely view, Careless turned round for a few minutes to gaze at it, but it was with very different feelings that he surveyed the ancient mansion. How changed was it since he beheld it last! As his eye ran over the front of the once proud structure, he noted the injuries it had sustained – windows shattered – architectural ornaments mutilated, or thrown down – the smooth lawns trampled over – the terrace grass-grown. Yawning wide, the great entrance door revealed the havoc that had taken place within.

Careless and the priest exchanged mournful glances as they walked towards the house, but not a word passed between them. The great hall which they entered was a complete wreck – its beautifully carved oak screen having been ruthlessly destroyed. The sculptured armorial bearings on the grand oak staircase were likewise irreparably injured. Nothing that hatchet could mutilate was spared.

"Have you seen enough?" inquired the priest.

"No," replied Careless, "I would fain see what these vindictive miscreants can do when they are under no restraint. Come with me, father. Wait for us here, Jasper."

Accompanied by Father Huddlestone he then ascended the great oak staircase, and they proceeded to examine the long gallery and the numerous apartments connected with it, all of which were marked by the hand of the ruthless destroyer.

"What would Peter Giffard say if he could behold his house?" remarked Careless. "It would break his stout heart – if, indeed, his heart is not already broken."

"He bears his misfortunes bravely," said Father Huddlestone. "But the king's defeat at Worcester will be a greater blow to him than the worst of his own losses."

"Ah! if we Royalists had but won that battle, father," cried Careless; "we should soon have enjoyed our own again! But we must now wait for many a long day."

"I fear so, my son," replied the priest. "But I trust in the justice of Heaven!"

Meanwhile Jasper, tired by his walk, had sought a seat among the broken furniture scattered about. Discovering an old arm-chair, he threw himself into it and fell asleep almost immediately.

Having completed their survey of the upper rooms, Careless and the priest were about to descend, but while passing through the gallery they chanced to look out of a window, and, to their infinite dismay, perceived a small party of dragoons, with an officer at their head, riding quickly towards the house.

There was time enough to save themselves by a hasty retreat, but not a moment to lose. Careless rushed to the head of the great staircase, and called out to Jasper that the enemy was at hand, bidding him fly to the back of the house, and make his way out.

Feeling certain that the page heard him, and would instantly attend to the warning, he gave himself no further concern, but followed Father Huddlestone down a back staircase. Luckily, there was nothing to prevent their egress – the doors being all unfastened – and they were soon in the court-yard.

Here they waited for a few moments for Jasper, expecting he would join them, but he came not. Careless now became seriously alarmed, and his uneasiness was increased by some sounds that seemed to announce the arrival of the troopers. Despite Father Huddlestone's entreaties he re-entered the house, but presently came back, and with a look of anguish exclaimed:

"Too late! The troopers have already entered – he must be captured!"

"Nay, then, we must save ourselves if we can," cried Father Huddlestone. "Let us make for the wood."

They had scarcely quitted the court-yard when three or four troopers rode into it.

CHAPTER II.

HOW THE KING WAS WELL-NIGH CAPTURED BY MADMANNAH

Seated in the arbour, to which he had retired on the departure of Father Huddlestone and his companions, Charles endeavoured to review his position calmly.

His great desire had been to remain at Boscobel till the vigilance of his enemies should relax, and an opportunity of reaching the coast might occur to him, but after Father Huddlestone's earnest representations of the great risk he would run, he felt the necessity of seeking another hiding-place, and where could a more secure retreat be found than was offered by Moseley Old Hall? Mr. Whitgreave, the owner of the mansion, belonged to the old religion, and the unfortunate monarch had learnt from recent experience that those who had proved most faithful to him in his hour of peril were Roman Catholics. Besides, Father Huddlestone had given him positive assurance of the fidelity of Mr. Whitgreave's household. There was no risk, therefore, of betrayal. The great danger lay in the journey. If he could only reach Moseley Old Hall in safety all would be well.

Still, he felt reluctant to quit Boscobel. The Penderels had completely won his regard. Their devotion had impressed him deeply, and he well knew that men so honest and trusty, and possessed of such good sound sense, were rarely to be met with. Having been thrown so much into their company – especially into that of Trusty Dick – he knew them more intimately than he had ever done persons in their humble station, and he formed a very high and perfectly just opinion of their worth.

Naturally, the uppermost thought in his mind was how to reach the coast, and procure a vessel to convey him to France, and he was considering how he could best accomplish his object, when the sound of quick footsteps on the gravel-walk leading to the mount caught his ear. He immediately looked forth, and saw it was Trusty Dick, who had come to warn him.

"Your majesty must not stay here any longer," said the faithful fellow. "The enemy is at hand."

On hearing this Charles hurried to the house, where he found William Penderel and his wife in great consternation, for they had just learnt from Dick that Colonel James, being dissatisfied with the result of the first investigation, was about to make another search of the house, and was coming thither with his troopers.

"I will again take refuge in the oak," cried Charles. "I shall be safe amid its branches."

"There is not time to reach the tree," said Dick, who could not conceal his uneasiness. "Besides, that rascally trooper whom your majesty made a prisoner is with them."

"You must hide in the secret closet, my liege, or in the priest's hole," said Joan.

"There are other hiding-places," added William Penderel, "but none so secure as the secret closet in the chimney. Go thither at once, sire, I entreat you. There is not a moment to lose."

"I must not be found here," cried Trusty Dick, "my presence would excite suspicion. But I shall not be far off."

Snatching up a sword that had been left for him by Careless, Charles hurried up-stairs, and opened the door of the secret closet. While he was thus employed, he fancied he heard some one in the adjoining chamber, and at once flew to the trap-door, and let himself down into the lower chamber. In his haste, he had left the sword lying on the floor of the bedroom, and had upset a fauteuil – and, worst of all, he had left the door of the secret closet open – but he felt sure Joan would quickly follow and put all right.

And so she would have done, had she not been prevented. How great was her terror, on entering the bedchamber, to see a trooper standing there, amid all these evidences of the king's hasty retreat.

The trooper she beheld was Madmannah. He had got into the house through an open window, and had made his way privily up-stairs. Placing his pike at her breast, he ordered her instantly to quit the room, and she did not dare to disobey.

Casting an anxious glance at the accusing sword, but still hoping the trap-door might not be discovered, Joan went down to the hall, where another scene of terror awaited her.

Colonel James was interrogating her husband, who was standing before the stern Republican leader with a trooper on either side of him. Ezra, who was stationed at the foot of the staircase, allowed her to enter the hall, but bade her hold her tongue. Colonel James was seated near the table. His aspect was unusually severe, but William Penderel did not quail before his menacing looks. The forester's gigantic figure dwarfed the troopers who stood on either side of him.

"I know thou art a stubborn knave," said Colonel James; "but I will wrest the truth from thee. I am certain that Charles Stuart is concealed within this house, and I mean not to depart without him. But I will not waste time in the search. Thy life is already forfeited for thy treasonable conduct, and I should be justified in putting thee to death; but I will spare thee, if, without more ado, the malignant prince be delivered up to me. Nay, more, I will reward thee. Dost hear me, sirrah?" he continued, finding that his words produced no visible impression upon the prisoner. "I am not one to be trifled with, as thou wilt find."

As he spoke, he arose, strode towards the prisoner, and drawing a pistol from his belt, placed it at Penderel's head.