Fred’s first thought was that he ought to clap spurs to his horse, wheel round suddenly so as to disorder the men’s aim, and gallop back for his life.
“And then,” he said to himself, “how should I dare face the general and my father?”
Drawing a long breath, he sat firm, and then fighting hard to keep down his trepidation, he turned his head, and called to his follower, bidding him summon the garrison once more.
The man raised his trumpet to his lips, and blew another call, falling back again at a sign from the flag-bearer, and though he would not show that he knew of their presence, a glance to right and left told Fred that the two men were taking aim at him still.
“They dare not fire. They dare not!” he said to himself, as he sat fast; and directly after a group of showily dressed Cavaliers appeared at the large open window above the broad porch.
He could see that Sir Godfrey Markham was in the centre, with a tall fair man with a pointed beard on one side, a grey dark man on the other, and half behind him stood Scarlett, with some dozen more.
“Well, sir,” said Sir Godfrey, sternly, and speaking as if he had never seen the messenger before, “what is your business?”
“I am the bearer of a despatch, sir,” replied Fred, “for the chief officer here.”
“That will be you, sir,” said Sir Godfrey to the gentleman on his right. “Well, boy, pass the letter here.”
“How, sir?”