When the King had read the letter he stared round upon his gentlemen.
"Is this my sister's son," he cried, with quivering lips, "or a hireling Captain? Was this my own blood did this thing? Rupert whom I trusted?"
None of them dare speak. Charles was so white that they feared that he would fall in a fit or swoon.
"My city, my loyal city!" he muttered; then he cast the Prince's letter on to the grass, as if it soiled his fingers, and turned slowly away. He had the look of a broken man.
CHAPTER VII
LOYALTY HOUSE
Soon after Bristol surrendered, Winchester, that other loyal city, fell. Leicester, so lately taken from the Parliament, was by them recaptured soon after Naseby. Nearly twenty fortified houses had been taken this year. Goring's troopers were dispersed. Rupert and his brother had, in spite of all denials, followed the King to Newark: Rupert in high disgrace, deprived of his commissions, and ordered abroad, yet staying and endeavouring to justify himself to his outraged kinsman, succeeding somewhat, yet still in the unhappy King's deep displeasure, and hardly any longer to be considered as His Majesty's Commander of Horse, whether or no he held a commission, since His Majesty had no longer an army for any one to general.
In Scotland Montrose had fled to the Orkneys. Argyll and the Conventiclers were triumphant and biding their chance to make a bargain either with King or Independents, according as circumstances might shape themselves, or as either party might be ready to take the Covenant.
What, indeed, could the King hope for now but for some division among his enemies, or that the shadowy army of Dutch, Lorrainers, or Frenchmen should at last materialize and descend upon the coasts of Britain.