Catesby mounted the walls of the mansion to reconnoitre. The prospect was forlorn and melancholy to the last degree. The neighbouring woods were obscured by mist; the court-yard and garden flooded with rain; and the waters of the moat spotted by the heavy shower. Not an object was in view, except a hind driving cattle to a neighbouring farm. Catesby shouted to him, and the fellow with evident reluctance approaching the brink of the moat, was asked whether he had seen any troops in the neighbourhood. The man answered in the negative, but said he had heard that an engagement had taken place in the night, about five miles from thence, near Hales Owen, between Sir Everard Digby and Sir Richard Walsh, and that Sir Everard's party had been utterly routed, and himself taken prisoner.
This intelligence was a severe blow to Catesby, as it destroyed the last faint hope he had clung to. For some time he continued wrapt in thought, and then descended to the lower part of the house. A large fire had been kept up during the night in the hall, and the greater part of the band were now gathered round it, drying their wet clothes, and conversing together. A plentiful breakfast had been served out to them, so that they were in tolerably good spirits, and many of them talked loudly of the feats they meant to perform in case of an attack.
Catesby heard these boasts, but they fell upon an idle ear. He felt that all was over; that his last chance was gone; and that the struggle could not be much longer protracted. Entering the inner room, he sat down at table with his companions, but he ate nothing, and continued silent and abstracted.
“It is now my turn to reproach you,” observed Grant. “You look deeply depressed.”
“Sir Everard Digby is a prisoner,” replied Catesby, sternly. “His capture grieves me sorely. He should have died with us.”
All echoed the wish.
Catesby arose and closed the door.
“The attack will not be many hours delayed,” he said; “and unless there should be some miraculous interposition in our behalf, it must end in our defeat. Do not let us survive it,” he continued earnestly. “Let us swear to stand by each other as long as we can, and to die together.”
“Agreed!” cried the others.
“And now,” continued Catesby, “I must compel myself to take some nourishment, for I have much to do.”