The Children of the New Forest - Frederick Marryat (book recommendations based on other books TXT) 📗

“My father also fell at Naseby,” said Edward.

“Your father did?” replied Chaloner; “I do not recollect the name— Armitage—he was not in command there, was he?” continued Chaloner.

“Yes, he was,” replied Edward.

“There was none of that name among the officers that I can recollect, young sir,” replied Chaloner, with an air of distrust. “Surely you have been misinformed.”

“I have spoken the truth,” replied Edward; “and have now said so much that I must, to remove your suspicion say more than perhaps I should have done. My name is not Armitage, although I have been so called for some time. You have set me the example of confidence, and I will follow it. My father was Colonel Beverley, of Prince Rupert’s troop.”

Chaloner started with astonishment.

“I’m sure that what you say is true,” at last said he; “for I was thinking who it was that you reminded me of. You are the very picture of your father. Although a boy at the time, I knew him well, Master Beverley; a more gallant Cavalier never drew sword. Come, we must be sworn friends in life and death, Beverley,” continued Chaloner, extending his hand, which was eagerly grasped by Edward, who then confided to Chaloner the history of his life. When he had concluded, Chaloner said,

“We all heard of the firing of Arnwood, and it is at this moment believed that all the children perished. It is one of the tales of woe that our nurses repeat to the children, and many a child has wept at your supposed deaths. But tell me, now, had you not fallen in with me, was it your intention to have joined the army under your assumed name of Armitage?”

“I hardly know what I intended to do. I wanted a friend to advise me.”

“And you have found one, Beverley. I owe my life to you, and I will repay the debt as far as is in my power. You must not conceal your name to your sovereign; the very name of Beverley is a passport, but the son of Colonel Beverley will be indeed welcomed. Why, the very name will be considered as a harbinger of good fortune. Your father was the best and truest soldier that ever drew sword; and his memory stands unrivaled for loyalty and devotion. We are near to the end of our journey; yonder is the steeple of Bolton church. The old ladies will be out of their wits when they find that they have a Beverley under their roof.”

Edward was much delighted at this tribute paid to his father’s memory; and the tears more than once started into his eyes as Chaloner renewed his praise.

Late in the evening they arrived at Portlake, a grand old mansion situated in a park crowded with fine old timber. Chaloner was recognized, as they rode up the avenue, by one of the keepers, who hastened forward to announce his arrival; and the domestics had opened the door for them before they arrived at it. In the hall they were met by the old ladies, who expressed their delight at seeing their nephew, as they had had great fear that something had happened to him.

“And something did very nearly happen to me,” replied Chaloner, “had it not been for the timely assistance of my friend here, who, notwithstanding his Puritan attire, I hardly need tell you, is a Cavalier devoted to the good cause, when I state that he is the son of Colonel Beverley, who fell at Naseby with my good father.”

“No one can be more welcome, then,” replied the old ladies, who extended their hands to Edward. They then went into a sitting-room, and supper was ordered to be sent up immediately.

“Our horses will be well attended to, Edward,” said Chaloner; “we need not any longer look after them ourselves. And now, good aunts, have you no letters for me?”

“Yes, there are several; but you had better eat first.”

“Not so; let me have the letters; we can read them before supper, and talk them over when at table.”

One of the ladies produced the letters, which Chaloner, as he read them, handed over to Edward for his perusal. They were from General Middleton, and some other friends of Chaloner’s who were with the army, giving him information as to what was going on, and what their prospects were supposed to be.

“You see that they have marched already,” said Chaloner, “and I think the plan is a good one, and it has put General Cromwell in an awkward position. Our army is now between his and London, with three days’ march in advance. And we shall now be able to pick up our English adherents, who can join us without risk, as we go along. It has been a bold step, but a good one; and if they only continue as well as they have begun, we shall succeed. The Parliamentary army is not equal to ours in numbers, as it is; and we shall add to ours dayly. The king has sent to the Isle of Man for the Earl of Derby, who is expected to join tomorrow.”

“And where is the army at this moment?” inquired Edward.

“They will be but a few miles from us tonight, their march is so rapid; tomorrow we will join, if it pleases.”

“Most willingly,” replied Edward.

After an hour’s more conversation, they were shown into their rooms, and retired for the night.

CHAPTER XXIII.

The next morning, before they had quitted their beds, a messenger arrived with letters from General Middleton, and from him they found that the king’s army had encamped on the evening before not six miles from Portlake. As they hastily dressed themselves, Chaloner proposed to Edward that a little alteration in his dress would be necessary; and taking him to a wardrobe in which had been put aside some suits of his own, worn when he was a younger and slighter-made man than he now was, he requested Edward to make use of them. Edward, who was aware that Chaloner was right in his proposal, selected two suits of colors which pleased him most; and dressing in one, and changing his hat for one more befitting his new attire, was transformed into a handsome Cavalier. As soon as they had broken their fast they took leave of the old ladies, and mounting their horses set off for the camp. An hour’s ride brought them to the outposts; and communicating with the officer on duty, they were conducted by an orderly to the tent of General Middleton, who received Chaloner with great warmth as an old friend, and was very courteous to Edward as soon as he heard that he was the son of Colonel Beverley.

“I have wanted you, Chaloner,” said Middleton; “we are raising a troop of horse; the Duke of Buckingham commands it, but Massey will be the real leader of it; you have influence in this county, and will, I have no doubt, bring us many good hands.”

“Where is the Earl of Derby?”

“Joined us this morning; we have marched so quick that we have not had time to pick our adherents up.”

“And General Leslie?”

“Is by no means in good spirits: why, I know not. We have too many ministers with the army, that is certain, and they do harm; but we can not help ourselves. His majesty must be visible by this time; if you are ready, I will introduce you; and, when that is done, we will talk matters over.”

General Middleton then walked with them to the house in which the king had taken up his quarters for the night; and after a few minutes’ waiting in the anteroom, they were admitted into his presence.

“Allow me, your majesty,” said General Middleton, after the first salutations, “to present to you Major Chaloner, whose father’s name is not unknown to you.”

“On the contrary, well known to us,” replied the king, “as a loyal and faithful subject whose loss we must deplore. I have no doubt that his son inherits his courage and his fidelity.”

The king held out his hand, and Chaloner bent his knee and kissed it.

“And now, your majesty will be surprised that I should present to you one of a house supposed to be extinct—the eldest son of Colonel Beverley.”

“Indeed!” replied his majesty; “I heard that all his family perished at the ruthless burning of Arnwood. I hold myself fortunate, as a king, that even one son of so loyal and brave a gentleman as Colonel Beverley has escaped. You are welcome, young sir—most welcome to us; you must be near us; the very name of Beverley will be pleasing to our ears by night or day.”

Edward knelt down and kissed his majesty’s hand, and the king said—

“What can we do for a Beverley? let us know, that we may show our feelings toward his father’s memory.”

“All I request is, that your majesty will allow me to be near you in the hour of danger,” replied Edward.

“A right Beverley reply,” said the king; “and so we shall see to it, Middleton.”

After a few more courteous words from his majesty, they withdrew, but General Middleton was recalled by the king for a minute or two to receive his commands. When he rejoined Edward and Chaloner, he said to Edward—

“I have orders to send in for his majesty’s signature your commission as captain of horse, and attached to the king’s personal staff; it is a high compliment to the memory of your father, sir, and, I may add, your own personal appearance. Chaloner will see to your uniforms and accouterments; you are well mounted, I believe; you have no time to lose, as we march tomorrow for Warrington, in Cheshire.”

“Has any thing been heard of the Parliamentary army?”

“Yes; they are on the march toward London by the Yorkshire road, intending to cut us off if they can. And now, gentlemen, farewell; for I have no idle time, I assure you.”

Edward was soon equipped, and now attended upon the king. When they arrived at Warrington, they found a body of horse drawn up to oppose their passage onward. These were charged, and fled with a trifling loss; and as they were known to be commanded by Lambert, one of Cromwell’s best generals, there was great exultation in the king’s army; but the fact was, that Lambert had acted upon Cromwell’s orders, which were to harass and delay the march of the king as much as possible, but not to risk with his small force any thing like an engagement. After this skirmish it was considered advisable to send back the Earl of Derby and many other officers of importance into Lancashire, that they might collect the king’s adherents in that quarter and in Cheshire. Accordingly the earl, with about two hundred officers and gentlemen, left the army with that intention. It was then considered that it would be advisable to march the army direct to London; but the men were so fatigued with the rapidity of the march up to the present time, and the weather was so warm, that it was decided in the negative; and as Worcester was a town well affected to the king, and the country abounded with provisions, it was resolved that the army should march there, and wait for English re-enforcements. This was done; the city opened the gates with every mark of satisfaction, and supplied the army with all that it required. The first bad news which reached them was the dispersion and defeat of the whole of the Earl of Derby’s party, by a regiment of militia which had surprised them at Wigan during the night, when they were all asleep, and had no idea that any enemy was near to them. Although