But Athos was standing with his eyes fixed on a black line which bordered the banks of the Tyne and seemed to extend double the length of the camp.
“What is that line?” cried Athos, whose vision was still rather obscured by the uncertain shades and demi-tints of daybreak. “What is that line? I did not observe it yesterday.”
“It must be the fog rising from the river,” said the king.
“Sire, it is something more opaque than the fog.”
“Indeed!” said Winter, “it appears to me like a bar of red color.”
“It is the enemy, who have made a sortie from Newcastle and are surrounding us!” exclaimed Athos.
“The enemy!” cried the king.
“Yes, the enemy. It is too late. Stop a moment; does not that sunbeam yonder, just by the side of the town, glitter on the Ironsides?”
This was the name given the cuirassiers, whom Cromwell had made his body-guard.
“Ah!” said the king, “we shall soon see whether my Highlanders have betrayed me or not.”