Boscobel: or, the royal oak

"Well, the place will suit me," said Charles. "So you may look out for us at the entrance of the gorge, captain." Then, bending towards Careless, he added, in a low tone, "Don't lose sight of this man."

"Depend on me," replied Careless, in the same tone.

No one but Captain Rooker was aware that all that had passed had been overheard by David Price, who, on going forth, had left the door slightly ajar. The cunning rascal had now heard quite enough, and, fearful of being detected, crept cautiously away.

He was only just in time, for almost immediately afterwards Charles and Pope quitted the room. David Price attended them to the door, and after watching them for a moment or two, as they proceeded towards the quay, he beckoned to the troopers, whom we have mentioned as being among the guests. They were expecting the summons, and instantly joined him.

Meanwhile, the king and Pope had crossed the quay, and calling for a boat, were taken to the other side of the Frome.

As soon as the boat returned from this job, the two troopers, each of whom was armed with a carabine, and had a brace of pistols in his belt, jumped into it, and ordered the waterman to take them across.

The man prepared to obey, but by some accident got foul of another boat, causing a slight delay, which exasperated the troopers. They rated him soundly, but their anger did not mend matters, for he moved with the greatest deliberation.

CHAPTER VIII.

ST. AUGUSTINE'S GREEN

Wholly unconscious that they were followed, the king and his attendant mounted the eminence on which stood St. Augustine's Church. By this time the moon had risen, and its beams silvered the tower and roof of the majestic edifice. Before entering St. Augustine's Green – now known as College Green – a large quadrangular piece of ground bordered by trees, spread out in front of the cathedral, Charles cast a glance at the city, which, viewed from this elevation, with its walls, ancient habitations, and church towers, illumined by the moon's radiance, presented a striking picture. While gazing in this direction he noticed two troopers at the foot of the hill, who had evidently just crossed over from the quay, but they did not excite his apprehension.

The moon being at the back of the collegiate church, the broad black shadow of the venerable pile was thrown upon the green, reaching almost as far as the high cross which stood in the centre of the enclosure. As Charles walked towards the cross he saw a female figure hurry away, and enter the alley of trees that bordered the green on the west. He instantly followed, and found Dame Gives.

"Why did you fly from me?" he asked.

"I was not certain that it was your majesty," she rejoined. "The person with you is a stranger to me."

"He is a faithful adherent whom I have found at Abbots Leigh," replied Charles. "I could not bring Major Careless with me, for he is otherwise occupied, but you will see him anon."

And he then proceeded to explain that Careless had been left to look after the master of the lugger.

"Heaven grant that all may go well!" she exclaimed. "How rejoiced I shall be when your majesty is safe at Swansea!"

"You will be still more pleased when we are all safe in France," said Charles.

"I do not think I shall ever arrive there, sire," she rejoined, sadly. "I am not usually down-hearted, as you know. But I am so low-spirited to-night that I think you will be better without me."

"No, no," cried Charles. "Go you must. Major Careless will be miserable if you are left behind."

"Nay, I don't desire to make him miserable," she rejoined, forcing a laugh. "Whatever may happen I will go. But I will tell your majesty why I feel so uneasy. While I was standing under the shadow of the church a dark figure approached me, and at first I thought it was Major Careless, whom I expected. A strange terror seized me. The figure slowly and noiselessly advanced, and as it drew near the blood froze in my veins, and my heart ceased to beat, for I saw that it was Urso. Yes, it was Urso, come from the grave to torment me! His face was the face of a corpse, but his eyes gleamed with preternatural brightness. I tried to fly, but I continued chained to the spot. The phantom approached – and oh, horror! it stood close beside me, and these words, uttered in a sepulchral tone, reached my ear: 'I have come to summon you.' For a moment my senses seemed to desert me. When I recovered, the phantom was gone."

"'Twas the delusion of an over-excited imagination," observed Charles, who nevertheless was powerfully impressed by the relation.

"No, sire," she replied, shuddering. "I could not be deceived. I saw Urso too plainly. Nothing could equal the horror with which he inspired me. Death would be dreadful indeed if I must rejoin him."

There was a pause, during which Charles made no remark, for, in spite of himself, he felt a sense of terror creeping over him.

At length Dame Gives broke the silence:

"As soon as I regained the use of my limbs," she said, "I went to yonder chapel," pointing to a small sacred structure on the eastern side of the green, "and finding the door open I went in, and kneeling down, prayed fervently. Since then I have felt greatly relieved, and prepared for whatever may ensue."

"'Tis a mere trick of fancy," cried Charles. "But, despite the fancied summons, you must go with me. If we remain here longer, I shall think I see Urso's ghost myself."

He then called to Pope, who was standing near at hand, and bade him lead the way to the downs. Marching in advance, the butler took them to the further end of the green, and then commenced another steep ascent. Dame Gives still felt rather faint, and required the aid of the king's arm in mounting the hill. Not one of the party was aware that they were cautiously followed by the two troopers.

CHAPTER IX.

THE GORGE OF THE AVON

They had now gained an eminence, at that time nothing more than a bare down, but now covered with streets, squares, and terraces, and forming the charming suburb of Clifton. From this lofty point the whole of the city could be descried, bathed in moonlight, and presenting a very striking picture.

After a few minutes' rest, Dame Gives seemed to have recovered from the fatigue of the steep ascent, and walked on briskly over the elastic turf. Though they were on a very lofty elevation, they had not as yet reached the crown of the hill, which was then surmounted by a watch-tower, but they walked to this point, and avoiding the watch-tower, entered a wide open space, partly surrounded by earthworks, which had once formed a Roman camp.

A most remarkable scene now lay before them, the picturesque effect of which was heightened by the moonlight. From the giddy height they had attained they looked down upon the Avon, flowing in its deep channel between two walls of rocks, evidently riven asunder, ages ago, by some convulsion of nature. This marvellous chasm, than which nothing can be grander, is known as the Gorge of the Avon. Bushes and small trees springing from the interstices of the lofty and shelving rocks added materially to its beauty. In appearance the uplands on either side of the gorge were totally different. The heights on which the king and his companions stood were wild, and only covered with patches of gorse, while those on the opposite side were crowned with the thickets in the midst of which Abbots Leigh was situated. Divided for long centuries, as we have said, these towering cliffs have been once more united by a light and beautiful bridge suspended over the abyss at such a height that the tallest ship can pass beneath it.

From the lofty point on which Charles stood the course of the Avon from Bristol to the rocky gorge could be distinctly traced in the moonlight, except in places where the river was obscured by a slight haze that gathered over it. The upper part of the cliffs was illumined by the moon, but her beams could not penetrate their mysterious and gloomy depths. Lower down, where the chasm widened, and the cliffs were further apart, the river could be seen rushing on to join the Severn. A strange and fascinating picture, which the king contemplated with great interest.

Meanwhile, the troopers had gained the summit of the hill, and concealed themselves behind the watch-tower.

"There is the boat!" exclaimed Pope, pointing to a dark object distinguishable in the river about three hundred yards from the entrance of the gorge.

Charles listened intently, and, in the deep stillness that prevailed, felt sure he heard the plash of oars.

"'Tis the boat, no doubt," he cried.

"Shall we go down to meet it?" inquired Pope.

Charles signified his assent.

"Your majesty will please to be careful," continued Pope. "The descent is somewhat perilous."

"You hear what he says, fair mistress," remarked Charles to Dame Gives.

Struck by her extreme paleness, he added:

"Let me help you to descend."

But she thankfully declined the gracious offer.

Pope then led them along the edge of the precipitous cliffs, till he arrived at a spot where the bank was not quite so steep, and was fringed with bushes.

"Here is the path, my liege," he exclaimed. "Follow me, and proceed cautiously, I beseech you. A false step might prove fatal."

He then plunged amid the bushes, and was followed by Charles. Close behind the king came Dame Gives.

Their movements had been watched by the troopers, who carefully marked the spot where they commenced the descent, and in another minute were cautiously following them.

The path taken by Pope brought those whom he conducted among the rocks lower down, and here Charles gave a helping hand to Dame Gives, and saved her from the consequences of more than one unlucky slip; but nothing worse occurred, and they all reached the bottom of the cliff in safety.

They were now at the entrance of the gorge, and the river, confined by the rocks, was sweeping rapidly past them through its narrow deep channel.