He broke off, the grin fading from his face, for it was evident that the King was a good deal disturbed by his news. He had been lounging in his chair, but the mention of the reward had made him stiffen. He said slowly: 'A mort of money. Yes; a fortune, to a poor man.'
Humphrey stood staring at him with his jaw drop ping. The King got up and walked away to the other end of the room, biting his nails. Carlis watched him for a moment, and then went over to him, leaving Humphrey crestfallen by the fire. 'What is it, sir?' he asked.
Charles shot him a look under his brows. 'I should not have put myself in the hands of such poor men. A thousand pounds to a man who earns a few shillings a week is too great a temptation!' he replied in a low voice.
'If it were one hundred thousand pounds it were to no more purpose, sir,' Carlis said. 'I will engage my soul for the truth of these same poor men!'
Charles did not speak. Humphrey, unable to hear what had been said, and not comprehending the cause of the King's discomposure, feared that in some way he had been indiscreet, and stood looking unhappily towards him. 'I do be sorry if I've done wrong,' he faltered.
Carlis turned his head. 'A large sum, Humphrey, one thousand pounds! A man could be snug for life with such a fortune, could he not?'
'Ay, surely.'
'
You
could earn it very easily, could you not? You have but to go again to Shifnal, to speak half-a-dozen words in the ear of this rebel Colonel, and you may be a rich man. Now tell his Majesty – have you a mind to do it?'
The miller's face turned slowly crimson. 'Blood money?' he said. 'Me touch such? You should ought to know we'm honest men, sir!'
'I do know it.'
Humphrey's smouldering gaze went past him to the King's face. He said haltingly: 'We do be poor men, my liege, but not rogues! There's not one of us would betray your honour, no, not for a hundred times a thousand pounds! Lord ha' mercy, you wouldn't never think that of us? I'd not have told you, but for the jest of it!'
'No, no! I don't think it!' the King said quickly. He lifted a hand to his brow, pressing it as though it hurt him. 'I ask your pardon. I did not know such loyalty existed.' His hand fell, he forced a smile, and came back to the fire. 'In truth, I am over-tired and not myself. But I wonder that you should count me worth the loss of a fortune, indeed I do, for I have brought no good to this country.'
'Ay,' said Humphrey doubtfully, 'but – but I'd not sell any man for dirty gold, my liege, let alone your honour, which is my King – for all those damned rebels miscalled you the King of Scots! I'd give 'em King of Scots!'
The King laughed at that. His laughter banished the discom fort that had hung over the room since his hasty rising from his chair. Humphrey drew a deep breath of relief. By the time William came back into the room, which he did a few minutes later, his angry flush had faded, and he was regaling the King with a pungent description of the rebel troops he had encountered in Shifnal.
William was looking very serious, and at once drew Carlis aside to confer with him. The King glanced enquiringly at them. Carlis smiled at him, and said: 'Here's a weighty matter, sir. Will and Dame Joan would like to know what your Majesty would be pleased to eat tomorrow.'
'I should like some mutton, if it might be had,' replied the King without hesitation.
This simple request seemed to fill both the Pend erels with consternation. William looked worriedly at Humphrey, who shook his head. Seeing their perplexity, the King said: 'It's no matter: I will what you have in the house.'
'Ay, but you've done that, my liege,' explained William bluntly. 'And tomorrow being Sunday, we mun make provision.'
'So we will,' said Carlis briskly. 'If his Majesty desires mutton, mutton he must have.'
'I allow he should ought to have it, but dursn't go to buy such in any market hereabouts, master. 'Twould set the neighbours a-talking, for they do know I don't use such, being a poor man.'
'God help the man who has me to feed!' remarked the King. 'Let it go, let it go, I will eat bread and cheese.'
'No, sir, you shall have your mutton,' said Carlis, a laugh in his eyes. 'You forget that I am an old soldier. I will take counsel with William presently. Meanwhile, my ambition is to see your Majesty safely bestowed for the night.'
'Ay,' agreed William. 'I've put a decent pallet in the priest's hole. Humphrey and Dick and George and me will take turns to watch. John had best get some rest, seeing he do have to go to Moseley in the morning.'
'I shall be glad of a bed,' said the King. 'But mind, Carlis, I'll not have these men's lives put in jeopardy for the sake of mutton to fill my belly!'
'Oh, content you, sir! It's only a sheep's life which is in jeopardy,' replied Carlis, picking up a candlestick from the table. 'Will your Majesty be pleased to seek your bed?'
The bed in question was a straw-pallet, which had been spread in the priest's hole. The steep attic-stairs which led to the cheese-room were shut off from the rest of the house by a door; at the head of these, a trap door had been lifted out of the floor, disclosing a dark cavity, five foot square. The cheese-room, part of which bore evidence of having been used as a chapel, was long and low-pitched, with windows at either end of it, one commanding a view of the highway from Tong to Brewood, and the other overlooking the garden at the back of the house. The King lowered himself into the hole, remarking that it was well that he liked the smell of cheese; and Carlis and William, having seen him as comfortably settled as the constricted space would allow, left him to get what sleep he could while they kept watch.
He spent an uneasy night, for the dimensions of the hiding-place would not permit him to stretch out his long legs. The brothers took it in turns to keep watch throughout the night, and at daybreak Carlis stole out with William to a neighbouring sheepfold. Here the fattest wether of the flock fell a victim to the Major's dagger, while William stood by, not a little dismayed at such high-handed conduct. The Major did his work neatly and well, and straightened himself, wiping his dagger on his handkerchief. 'Hoist it on to your back, Will,' he said cheerfully. 'His Majesty shall have his mutton.'
'Ay, but it's downright robbery, master!' replied William. 'I'll have to pay Mr Staunton for it, so I will, for he's an honest gentleman, and I wouldn't like to have it on my conscience I'd thieved one of his best wethers.'
'Be easy, the blame is mine. Hoist it up, now: we will bestow it in the cellar, and his Majesty shall have some slices for his breakfast.'
The King, meanwhile, unable to bear his restricted quarters any longer, had climbed out of the priest's hole; and, after spending some time at his prayers, stretched his cramped legs a little by walking up and down the cheese-room. He told Richard, who, at the first sounds of movement, had come up the attic-stairs to discover if he needed anything, that he thought himself in a very good look-out place, indicating with a wave of his hand the window at one end.
'Ay, 'tis good enough, but there'll be none stirring yet awhiles,' agreed Richard. 'I would bring your honour down to the parlour, only that the Major did say to keep you close till he came back.'
'Came back? Where has he gone?' demanded the King.
'He's taken Will off with him to Mr Staunton's sheepfold, to get some mutton for your honour,' replied Richard.
The King burst out laughing. 'I swear I love that man! A whole sheep for my diet?'
'Ay,' said Richard severely. 'And not honestly come by, master. Will is sadly put about over it, but seeing it's for your honour, and Mr Staunton mighty well-affected to you, he said he'd go along with the Major.'
'And the others? Where are they?'
'Francis Yates and George be on guard, master.
Humphrey's gone off to his home, and John to Moseley, to find my lord. Will's wife she do need me to chop a bit of wood for the parlour fire, so if your honour will be pleased to stay here safe I'd best be budging.'
The King gave his word to remain close by his hiding-place, and Richard clumped down the stairs again. It was not long before a lighter footstep sounded, and Major Carlis came up to the cheese-room. The King welcomed him with a smile. 'My friend, what villainy have you been about?'
Carlis kissed his hand. 'Why sir, you must know that you cannot keep a soldier from plunder!' He looked keenly at the King. 'Alas! You have not slept, sir.'
'Not very much. It is irksome in that cavern to one of my inches. It is also devilishly stuffy. What have you have done with your corpse, Carlis?'
'I've bestowed it in the cellar, sir, to grow cold. Meanwhile, a fire awaits you in the parlour. Will you be pleased to come down?'
'Very pleased,' said the King, with a comical grimace. 'Did I tell you that I liked the smell of cheese? I lied then.'
Carlis laughed, and went down the stairs before him to open the door at the bottom. Both William and Richard Penderel were in the parlour, Richard feeding the fire, and William waiting to discuss with the Major the measures to be taken for the King's safety throughout the day.
'I'm thinking the oak tree is maybe the surest hiding place,' he said, 'only his Majesty might not be wishful to spend another day in it.'
'I am not at all wishful to spend another day in it,' said the King, sitting down beside the fireplace.
'There's the coppice,' suggested William doubtfully.
'And there it may stay,' said the King, thrusting a hand into his leather doublet, and pulling out a coarse handkerchief. 'I'll none of it.'
William scratched his head. 'Will you bide in the priest-hole, then, master?'
The King was holding the handkerchief to his nose, and said in a muffled voice: 'I'll go into it, if I'm forced, but I'll not stay there.' He removed his handkerchief to add: 'Cromwell's godly men won't search for me on the Sabbath, I'll be sworn.'
He pressed the handkerchief to his nose again, but not before Richard, kneeling in front of the fire at his feet, had seen the blood on it.
'Master!' Richard exclaimed, aghast. 'Master, what ails you? Will – your honour!'
'Peace, peace! It's only my nose begun to bleed!' said the King.
Carlis, who had sprung forward to his side, bent over him, an expression on his face of considerable anxiety. 'Sir, are you sure you are not ill? Tell me!'
'It's the hardships his honour's borne so patient!' Richard said, wringing his hands.
'Ay, you shouldn't ought to have taken him to Madeley,' said William. 'I knew it were not fit for him, so dainty-reared and all!'
The King stretched out his free hand. 'Oddsfish, don't look as though you thought to see me fall dead at your feet! I tell you it is but my nose bleeding. It often does so.'
This reassurance, though it did not entirely set his hosts' minds at rest, allayed a little of their alarm. They continued to hover about him, suggesting remedies, to all of which he shook his head, and could none of them be induced to go about their several businesses until they had satisfied themselves that the bleeding had quite stopped. He was touched, and a good deal amused by their concern, but when he was at last able to restore his bloodstained clout to his pocket, Carlis said: 'This is the outcome of too much hardship, even as Richard says. Would to God I could devise some way –'
'Would to God you would not make such a piece of work about nothing!' interrupted the King.
'Ay, but isn't there naught we can do for your honour?' begged Richard.
'You can get me some breakfast,' said the King.
This request put William in mind of the carcass in his cellar, and he at once bore Richard off with him to cut it up into joints. Dame Joan being busy about the farm yard, the King com manded William to bring a frying pan and butter into the parlour. This being done, he cut some collops off the leg of mutton William had brought him, and set about cooking them himself.
William, shocked to see the King performing such a menial task, would have gone out to summon his wife, but the King forbade him, saying merrily: 'Do you think I don't know how to cook? Carlis, we must have more butter!'
Carlis brought it and dropped it into the pan. 'You will roast yourself as well as the mutton, sir. Let me hold the pan!'
'You would ruin all,' replied the King. 'When I give the word, you may turn the collops. 'Tis I who am master-cook here. Get me a trencher for when my breakfast shall be ready, William!'
William went away, shaking his head. The King, sitting on a joint-stool close to the fire, held the frying pan over the flames, giving it a little shake now and then, and laughing at Carlis's efforts to turn the slices without burning his own hand in the spitting fat.
'Courage, my hardened campaigner!' he mocked. 'If you splash me, I shall drop the pan!'
'I warrant you will, sir! – The devil! I'd rather face a charge of cavalry than this plaguey fat! Now who is the master-cook? Your Majesty who but holds the pan, or I who have turned the slices?'