The Pigeon Pie | Page 9

was a young man, with dark eyes and hair, looking
very pale and exhausted, and both he and his horse seemed hardly able
to stir a step further.

"Young sir," said the stranger, "what place is this? Am I near Forest
Lea?"
A flash of joy crossed Walter. "Edmund! are you Edmund?" he
exclaimed, colouring deeply, and looking up in his face with one quick
glance, then casting down his eyes.
"And you are little Walter," returned the cavalier, instantly dismounting,
and flinging his arm around his brother; "why, what a fine fellow you
are grown! How are my mother and all?"
"Well, quite well!" cried Walter, in a transport of joy. "Oh! how happy
she will be! Come, make haste home!"
"Alas! I dare not as yet. I must not enter the house till nightfall, or I
should bring danger on you all. Are there any troopers near?"
"Yes, the village is full of the rascals. But what has happened? It is not
true that--" He could not bear to say the rest.
"Too true!" said Edmund, leading his tired horse within the shelter of
the bushes. "It is all over with us!"
"The battle lost!" said Walter, in a stifled tone; and in all the bitterness
of the first disappointment of his youth, he turned away, overcome by a
gush of tears and sobs, stamping as he walked up and down, partly with
the intensity of his grief, partly with shame at being seen by his brother,
in tears.
"Had you set your heart on it so much?" said Edmund, kindly, pleased
to see his young brother so ardent a loyalist. "Poor fellow! But at least
the King was safe when I parted from him. Come, cheer up, Walter, the
right will be uppermost some day or other."
"But, oh, that battle! I had so longed to see old Noll get his deserts,"
said Walter, "I made so sure. But how did it happen, Edmund?"
"I cannot tell you all now, Walter. You must find me some covert
where I can be till night fall. The rebels are hot in pursuit of all the
fugitives. I have ridden from Worcester by byroads day and night, and I
am fairly spent. I must be off to France or Holland as soon as may be,
for my life is not safe a moment here. Cromwell is bitterer than ever
against all honest men, but I could not help coming this way, I so much
longed to see my mother and all of you."
"You are not wounded?" said Walter, anxiously.
"Nothing to speak of, only a sword-cut on my shoulder, by which I
have lost more blood than convenient for such a journey."

"Here, I'll lead your horse; lean on me," said Walter, alarmed at the
faint, weary voice in which his brother spoke after the first excitement
of the recognition. "I'll show you what Lucy and I call our bower,
where no one ever comes but ourselves. There you can rest till night."
"And poor Bayard?" said Edmund.
"I think I could put him into the out-house in the field next to the copse,
hide his trappings here, and get him provender from Ewins's farm. Will
that do?"
"Excellently. Poor Ewins!--that is a sad story. He fell, fighting bravely
by my side, cut down in Sidbury Street in the last charge. Alas! these
are evil days!"
"And Diggory Stokes, our own knave?"
"I know nothing of him after the first onset. Rogues and cowards
enough were there. Think, Walter, of seeing his Majesty strive in vain
to rally them, when the day might yet have been saved, and the traitors
hung down their heads, and stood like blocks while he called on them
rather to shoot him dead than let him live to see such a day!"
"Oh, had I but been there, to turn them all to shame!"
"There were a few, Walter; Lord Cleveland, Hamilton, Careless,
Giffard, and a few more of us, charged down Sidbury Street, and broke
into the ranks of the rebels, while the King had time to make off by S.
Martin's Gate. Oh, how I longed for a few more! But the King was
saved so far; Careless, Giffard, and I came up with him again, and we
parted at nightfall. Lord Derby's counsel was that he should seek shelter
at Boscobel, and he was to disguise himself, and go thither under
Giffard's guidance. Heaven guard him, whatever becomes of us!"
"Amen!" said Walter, earnestly. "And here we are. Here is Lucy's bank
of turf, and my throne, and here we will wait till the sun is down."
It was a beautiful green slope, covered with soft grass, short thyme, and
cushion-like moss, and overshadowed by a thick, dark yew-tree, shut in
by brushwood