“I prefer taking the field to any hiding-hole in England,” said the King. “Could I but find my way to this hut where the horses are, I would try what arguments whip and spur could use to get them to the rendezvous, where I am to meet Sir Thomas Acland and fresh cattle. Come with me, Colonel Lee, and let us run for it. The roundheads have beat us in battle; but if it come to a walk or a race, I think I can show which has the best mettle.”
“But then,” said Albert, “we lose all the time which may otherwise be gained by the defence of this house—leaving none here but my poor father, incapable from his state of doing any thing; and you will be instantly pursued by fresh horses, while ours are unfit for the road. Oh, where is the villain Joceline!”
“What can have become of Doctor Rochecliffe?” said Alice; “he that is so ready with advice;—where can they be gone? Oh, if my father could but rouse himself!”
“Your father is roused,” said Sir Henry, rising and stepping up to them with all the energy of full manhood in his countenance and motions—“I did but gather my thoughts—for when did they fail a Lee when his King needed counsel or aid?” He then began to speak, with the ready and distinct utterance of a general at the head of an army, ordering every motion for attack and defence—unmoved himself, and his own energy compelling obedience, and that cheerful obedience, from all who heard him. “Daughter,” he said, “beat up dame Jellicot—Let Phœbe rise if she were dying, and secure doors and windows.”
“That hath been done regularly since—we have been thus far honoured,” said his daughter, looking at the King—“yet, let them go through the chambers once more.” And Alice retired to give the orders, and presently returned.
The old knight proceeded, in the same decided tone of promptitude and dispatch—“Which is your first stage?”
“Gray’s—Rothebury, by Henley, where Sir Thomas Acland and young Knolles are to have horses in readiness,” said Albert; “but how to get there with our weary cattle?”
“Trust me for that,” said the knight; and proceeding with the same tone of authority—“Your Majesty must instantly to Joceline’s lodge,” he said, “there are your horses and your means of flight. The secret places of this house, well managed, will keep the rebel dogs in play two or three hours good—Rochecliffe is, I fear, kidnapped, and his Independent hath betrayed him—Would I had judged the villain better! I would have struck him through at one of our trials of fence, with an unbated weapon, as Will says.—But for your guide when on horseback, half a bowshot from Joceline’s hut is that of old Martin the verdurer; he is a score of years older than I, but as fresh as an old oak—beat up his quarters, and let him ride with you for death and life. He will guide you to your relay, for no fox that ever earthed in the Chase knows the country so well for seven leagues around.”
“Excellent, my dearest father, excellent,” said Albert; “I had forgot Martin the verdurer.”
“Young men forget all,” answered the knight—“Alas, that the limbs should fail, when the head which can best direct them—is come perhaps to its wisest!”