“Here he is, general, and true stuff he is made of. He was captured by the royalists a few months ago: but last week he effected his escape. Montressor, stand forward, and receive the thanks of General Cromwell, for your bravery.”
It was Arthur Montressor. Cromwell warmly extolled his services, even whilst he reminded him, “that not unto us, but unto God’s name be the glory.”
“General,” said Montressor, as he humbly bowed, “might I ask a favour, which can be of no interest in you to deny. Will you grant me leave of absence from the troops, for this night?”
“Absence!” returned the general, in a harsh voice, “and for what would you take absence? For some nocturnal appointment with a fair one?—young man you are silent: it must be as I have guessed. Then take my unqualified denial. No such license here,” and he turned away abruptly.
“Montressor,” said Birch, as he was about to accompany Cromwell, “you remain in the castle all night. Should you disobey, our sentries have the same liberty to treat you as they would the captive governor. Good night!”
Montressor stood for a moment motionless.
“The governor!—thank God that I have not left the castle!”
Early on the following morning Cromwell, attended by his officers, entered the apartment where the governor was confined. They found him asleep. Cromwell put his finger to his lips, and motioned them to the window, where they stood in silence. It commanded a wide view of the lawn in front, where the hill was almost a flat plain. Sheep and kine were browsing on the grass, and suggested images of rural peace and retirement, as if it had not been the seat of war a few hours previous. From their own thoughts they were aroused by the door of the apartment being cautiously opened. As they themselves stood in a recess, not directly opposite the door, they could watch without being observed. Nothing but a hand groping the way, and two bright eyes gleaming in the shade of the staircase, could be seen. The next moment a tall form, shrouded in a horseman’s cloak, moved silently in. He looked at the sleeper. His hand trembled as it was raised to the brow. He started, as if moved with some sudden resolution, drew forth a pistol, and fired it in the direction of the governor. He threw back his cloak, and perceiving that the ball had not been true to its mark, drew his sword, and rushed forward;—but Cromwell and his officers stood before him.
“Montressor! Beware!” thundered forth Cromwell, as he seized the youth’s arm.
The report had startled the governor.