Georgette Heyer (55 page)

  Wilmot was aghast, and the Colonel hardly less so, for no soldiers had been quartered at Bramber when he had ridden through it on his way from Brighthelmstone to Hinton Daubnay.

  'For God's sake, sir, stop!' Wilmot said. 'We dare not go on! We must turn back, and go by another way!'

  The Colonel, though shaken, still kept his wits about him, and interposed quickly, saying: 'If we do, we are undone! Let us go on boldly, and we shall not be suspected!'

  'God's death, are you mad?'

  'Nay, he says well,' said the King. 'We will go on.'

  'Sir, I implore you –'

  'My dear Harry, this is not the first time I have ridden through a troop of Roundheads,' said the King calmly. 'I warrant you they will not look twice at me.'

  He rode on down the slight hill, with Gounter's

knee brushing his. When they reached the centre of the town, where the soldiers were lounging outside an ale-house, there was only room in the road for a single horseman to pass, and Gounter pushed ahead, touching his hat in civil acknowledgment when a couple of troopers drew aside to let him go by. There was not much disposition shown to make way for travellers, and once or twice the Colonel had almost to force his passage. There was just enough good-humoured authority in his voice to carry weight, and by dint of a well-chosen jest or two, he brought the King through the town without incurring anything worse than a few grumbles.

  Once clear of Bramber, Wilmot spurred up to ride beside the King. He was inclined to blame the Colonel for having led them into a nest of Roundheads, and had been roused to a good deal of impotent fury by the conduct of the troopers in taking up the whole street; but the King said that all soldiers were very much the same, whether Roundheads or Royalists, a remark which annoyed Wilmot, but drew a laugh from Colonel Gounter, who knew it to be true.

  They had not ridden far out of Bramber when they heard the thunder of hooves. The King cocked an eyebrow at Gounter, and cleared his throat in a warning hem. The Colonel looked swiftly over his shoulder, and saw, to his dismay, a troop of thirty or forty soldiers riding down upon them at a purposeful trot.

  'Slacken, sir, slacken!' he said, his throat suddenly dry. 'My lord, for God's sake keep your hand away from your sword-hilt!'

  'Swords won't help me, Harry, but wits may,' said the King, riding with a slack rein, as one who was ambling homewards at his leisure.

  The noise of the troops' approach grew louder. Wilmot began to talk to the King, his light voice a little higher-pitched than usual, but wonderfully careless.

  In another minute the troop was upon them, and they were jostled almost into the ditch, nearly losing their seats as the soldiers thrust rudely past them. But the troop had not come in pursuit of them, which was all that signified, and in a very short time it had swept by, freely spattering them with mud, but mercifully heedless of them.

  'Well!' said the King, gentling his snorting mount. 'I think those were the worst few minutes of any I have so far endured!'

  The Colonel pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face with it. He said in a shaken voice: 'I make you my compliments, sire. I thought at last I must see you make some sign of fear.'

  'My dear sir, I was much too fearful to betray myself !' replied the King.

  'We must get away from this road!' said Wilmot urgently. 'At any moment that troop may return, and look more closely at you! Colonel Gounter, you are his Majesty's guide! Where must he go?'

  'If his Majesty will be advised by me, he will continue along this lane to Beeding, which we have nearly reached, and there rest himself, at Mr Bagshall's house, where I have provided a treatment for him. I will then ride on alone to Brighthelmstone, and see to it that all be in readiness for his Majesty's arrival at nightfall.'

  The King seemed to be quite willing to follow this advice, but Lord Wilmot was loud in his condemnation of it. Nothing would do but that he should carry the King away from the highroad, and keep him hidden, till dusk, somewhere on the lonely slopes of the Downs. For once, he was proof against the King's coaxing, and when Charles said, half in jest, half in earnest: 'Harry, it is my will,' he replied with an unaccustomed note of grimness in his voice: 'It is not mine, sir, and though you may have my head to-morrow, to-day you shall obey me!'

  In the end he had his way, the King yielding with the easy-going sweetness of disposition which caused his Chanceller so much anxious foreboding. He and Lord Wilmot left the high-road for the lonelier lanes, and Colonel Gounter rode on over the Downs to Bright helmstone.

  When he had covered some eight or nine miles, a windmill, standing against the cloudy sky, came into sight, and a little farther on he could see a stone block house perched on the cliff. He rode gently into the little fishing village, passing its one church, and made his way between some straggling, tumble down cottages to the George Inn, a small hostelry by the sea.

  Wilmot, after the encounter with the soldiers at Bramber, and with a lively recollection of the events at Charmouth in mind, had been so reluctant to consent to the King's risking his person in a public inn, that Charles, to silence his protests, had agreed to seek some other shelter, if any might be had, and to send word where he was to Gounter, at the George.

  The Colonel found the inn free of any other company, and, knowing that my Lord Wilmot would not discover any more convenient lodging for the King in such a mean village, engaged the best room in the house, and bespoke supper. Francis Mansel had prom ised to meet him at the George, and to bring Tattersal with him, but as it was too early yet for the Colonel to expect him, he called for a pipe, and some wine, and sat down before the fire in the parlour. The landlord, who was a pleasant fellow with a ready tongue, lingered to talk to him for a while. He accepted, without apparent disbelief, the Colonel's explanation of having come to Brighthelmstone to do business in connection with a cargo of merchandise, and said that he was well acquainted with Captain Stephen Tattersal, who was accounted an honest man, and a good seaman.

  He presently withdrew to order the preparation of supper, but it was not long before the sound of horses stopping outside the inn brought him out of the kitchen. He looked into the parlour on his way to the front-door, to say: 'More guests, your honour, but I'll take them into the next room, so you'll not be disturbed by them.'

  'Ay, do so,' replied the Colonel, knocking out his long pipe in the fireplace. He remained lounging in his chair until the sound of voices in the adjoining room reached his ears, and the landlord came back to tell him that a couple of gentlemen had arrived to supper.

  'Leastways,' Smith corrected himself, 'a gentleman

with his servant, maybe, for one of 'em – a great brown-looking fellow – is very meanly clad. But the stout gentleman's Quality, no question!'

  The Colonel got up, and walked towards the table to pour himself another glass of wine. This move ment brought him close to the door between the two parlours. He heard the King's voice say clearly: 'Here, Mr Barlow, I drink to you!' and at once jerked up his head, as though much surprised, exclaiming: 'I know that name! I pray you, host, go and enquire whether he was not a major in the King's army once!'

  Smith went off at once on this errand, returning in a few minutes with the expected reply that Mr Barlow was indeed the man Gounter supposed him to be. The Colonel then bade Smith invite both Barlow and his companion to the fellowship of a glass of wine with him, and in this way contrived to join forces with the King again, without arousing any suspicions in the landlord's breast.

  Francis Mansel arrived at the George with Captain Tattersal as supper was carried into the parlour. The King was sitting in one corner of the wooden settle by the fire, a little out of the candlelight, and remained there while the Colonel greeted the newcomers, and made Wilmot known to them, under his assumed name of Barlow. They all drew round the fire for a few minutes before sitting down to table, the Sea Captain telling them that he had hailed his barque into the mouth of the Adur, off the hamlet of Southwick, two miles west of Brighthelmstone.

  'This wind won't serve us,' said the King abruptly.

  'Nay, you say right, my master,' replied Tattersal, looking at him with a little curiosity. 'I warrant you're no landsman?'

  'I have done some sailing in my time,' admitted Charles.

  The landlord then called them to supper, and they moved towards the table, Mr Mansel taking one end, and the King the other. As the King stepped into the full candlelight, Colonel Gounter kept his eyes watch fully on the merchant's face, but could not detect in it the slightest quiver either of surprise or of recognition. His attention was diverted by the landlord's clumsily letting a platter fall, and when he looked round again Mr Mansel had seated himself, and was conversing calmly with my Lord Wilmot. Then he saw that Tattersal, instead of applying himself to his supper, was staring fixedly at the King, and with a sinking sensa tion in the pit of his stomach, he sat down beside the Captain, and began to talk to him of his calling.

  The answers he received were rather curt, and every now and then Tattersal would steal a sidelong look at Charles. The King gave no sign of apprehending any danger, but soon entered into my lord's conversation with the merchant. The landlord, who seemed to be subdued by his clumsiness in dropping the platter, remained in the room throughout the meal to wait on his guests.

  When supper was finished, and chairs pushed back from the table, Tattersal plucked Francis Mansel by the sleeve, and whispered that he desired a word with him apart. Mansel looked a little surprised, but after excusing himself to the rest of the company, withdrew with the Captain into the taproom.

  The King had strolled over to the fire, and was standing with his hand resting on the back of a chair, exchanging a few casual words with the landlord. Smith looked round cautiously as Mansel and Tattersal went out, and no sooner saw the door shut behind them, than he broke off in the middle of what he was saying, and quickly bent his knee to kiss the hand on the chair back. 'God bless you, wheresoever you go!' he whis pered. 'I do not doubt, before I die, but to be a lord, and my wife a lady!'

  The King withdrew his hand, and turned aside, saying with a laugh: 'I hope you may, yet I know not why you should!'

  Smith said no more, but set about clearing the dishes off the table; and, after a few minutes, the King removed into the next room. The Colonel, who had observed the whole episode, followed him almost immediately. His face was drawn into rather worried lines; he met the King's eyes with a great deal of concern in his own, and said bluntly: 'Sire, I know not how that fellow should have known who you are. I beg your Majesty to believe me he learned it not from me. I am indeed so altogether ignorant of the cause –'

  'Peace, peace, Colonel!' interrupted the King. 'You are in no way to blame!'

  'While I have the ordering of your affairs, sir, I must think myself responsible for what goes awry,' said the Colonel. 'The man said no word to me of having recognized you. It may be only a suspicion that has entered his head, but –'

  'The fellow knows me, and I know him,' said Charles. 'Unless I mistake him, he is one that belonged to the backstairs to my father. I hope he is an honest fellow; but I came away, thinking it not wise to hold more discourse with him than I need.'

  A gentle knock upon the door made him break off. Before the Colonel had time to take more than two steps towards the door, it had opened, and Mr Mansel had come into the room.

  He was looking grave, and upon the Colonel's greeting him, he shut the door behind him, and said in his precise way: 'I desire to have speech with you, sir, or – more particularly,' he added, with his eyes on the King, 'with this gentleman.'

  'I am heartily at your disposal,' replied the Colonel.

  Mansel glanced at him. 'Ah, yes, Colonel!' he said dryly. 'So, I think, have I been at yours.' His cold grey eyes passed on to the King's face. He said with preci sion: 'I shall crave your leave, sir, to ask you one ques tion – ah, a delicate question, I apprehend!'

  'Why, what's this?' said the King. 'You have my leave: let me hear your question!'

  A thin smile flickered on the merchant's lips. 'I shall ask you, sir – but indeed, you have answered me – if I have the honour to stand in the presence of my King?'

  The Colonel, who had foreseen this question from the moment of Mansel's entering the room, burst out laughing, and exclaimed: 'God pity all tall, dark men! My friend, you are sadly out. If you must know, this gentleman is Mr Jackson, who, as I told you, has lately been concerned in an unchancy duel.'

  Mansel bowed slightly. 'I shall of course accept your assurance, my dear Colonel, and will do my possible to convince Tattersal that his suspicions are groundless.'

  'Does he say I am the King?' asked Charles.

  'He says, my liege, that he is positive it is you,' replied Mansel calmly.

  The King smiled. 'Mr Mansel, can I trust you?'