On the stoup were several officers, who had just stepped out after finishing dinner, Massey himself in their midst.
“What is it?” he demanded, as the dragoon, springing down from the saddle, advanced towards him. He was feigning ignorance, for he well knew what it was.
“Despatch from Major Rowcroft, your Excellency,” answered the orderly, presenting it. “H. commanded it brought in all haste, saying ’twas of great importance.”
“Yes!” exclaimed the Governor, after tearing the sheet open, and giving but a glance to the writing. “Major Rowcroft is right: it is of great importance. Gentlemen,” he added, turning to his officers, and speaking loud enough to be heard all over the place, “this is a serious matter. Rowcroft advises me of news just reached Coleford that the Princes Rupert and Maurice have united their forces, taken Stroud, Cirencester too, and are supposed to be en route for Gloucester. Our own city threatened, we mustn’t think more of Monmouth. Glorious old Gloucester, that has so long defied all the strength of Cavalierism, with all its malevolent spite! But we shan’t let it fall; no! Let us get back there without a moment’s delay. So each of you to your respective commands. Have your men in marching order within twenty minutes. I give you that, and no more.”
No more was needed. The troops under Massey were too well-disciplined, too often summoned into action with like suddenness, to go bungling about getting ready for the route.
Quick after his words came the notes of a bugle sounding the “assembly,” with other calls taken up by the trumpeters of the respective corps, followed by a hurrying to and fro—horses un-haltered, bitted and saddled, men buckling on swords, grasping lances, or adjusting accoutrements; then trumpets once more commanding the “march,” and in less than the prescribed time neither trooper nor soldier of any sort could be seen within the precincts of High Meadow House, or anywhere around.
But the place was not altogether deserted. The domestics and outdoor servants of its absent owner were still there. In greater numbers now, as many—came stealing from holes and corners, where they had been all day hiding in fear of rough treatment by the Roundheads.
Hall’s head man, the steward of the estate, was among them, he too having come from a place of concealment as soon as warned that the troops had taken departure. Different from the rest, he was on horseback. Nor did he alight. Instead, after getting their report, from such of the house-servants as had been there all the while and heard everything, he reined about and rode off again. Not to follow the retiring Parliamentarians, but in quite the contrary direction.
So, while Massey and his troops were on the march from High Meadow, apparently en route for Gloucester, a man—this same steward—was riding down the Kymin at a breakneck pace, the bearer of glad news to the Governor of Monmouth.