It was a long walk, but Steadfast was only too glad to take it for the sake of such security, and besides, there was a real pleasure in being with Jeph, little as he seemed like the same idle, easy-going brother, except perhaps in those little touches of selfishness and boastfulness, which, though Stead did not realise them, did recall the original Jeph.
All through the moonlight walk Jeph expounded his singular mercies, which apparently meant his achievements in killing Cavaliers, and the commendations given to him. One of these mercies was the retention of the home and land, though he kindly explained that his brothers and sisters were welcome to get their livelihood there whilst he was serving with the army, but some day he should come home "as one that divideth the spoil," and build up the old house, unless, indeed, and he glanced towards the sloping woods of Elmwood Manor, "the house and fields of the malignants should be delivered to the faithful."
"My lady's house," said Steadfast under his breath.
"Wherefore not? Is it not written 'Goodly houses that ye builded not.' Thou must hear worthy Corporal Hold-the-Faith expound the matter, my brother."
They crossed the ferry and reached the outposts at last, and Stead was much startled when the barrel of a musquet gleamed in the moonlight, and a gruff voice said "Stand."
"The jawbone of an ass," promptly answered Jephthah.
"Pass, jawbone of an ass," responded the sentry, "and all's well. But who have you here, comrade!"
Jeph explained, and they passed up the narrow lane, meeting at the end of it another sentinel, with whom the like watchword was exchanged, and then they came out on a large village green, completely changed from its usual aspect by rows of tents, on which the moonlight shone, while Jeph seemed to know his way through them as well as if he were in the valley of Elmwood. Most of the men seemed to be asleep, for snores issued from sundry tents. In others there were low murmurings, perhaps of conversation, perhaps of prayer, for once Stead heard the hum of an "Amen." One or two men were about, and Jeph enquired of one if the Captain were still up, and heard that he was engaged in exercise with the godly Colonel Benbow.
Their quarters were in one of the best houses of the little village, where light gleamed from the window, and an orderly stood within the door, to whom Jeph spoke, and who replied that they were just in time. In fact two officers in broad hats and cloaks were just coming out, and Stead admired Jeph's military salute to them ere he entered the farmhouse kitchen, where two more gentlemen sat at the table with a rough plan of the town laid before them.
"Back again, Kenton," said his captain in a friendly tone. "Hast heard aught of thy brethren?"
"Yes, sir, I have found them well and in good heart, and have brought one with me."
"A helper in the good cause? Heaven be gracious to thee, my son. Thou art but young, yet strength is vouchsafed to the feeble hands."
"Please, sir," said Steadfast, who was twisting his hat about, "I've got to mind the others, and work for them."
"Yea, sir," put in Jeph, "there be three younger at home whom he cannot yet leave. I brought him, sir, to crave from you a protection for the corn and cattle that are in a sort mine own, being my father's eldest son. They are all the poor children have to live on."
"Thou shalt have it," said the captain, drawing his writing materials nearer to him. "There, my lad. It may be thou dost serve thy Maker as well by the plough as by the sword."
Steadfast pulled his forelock, thanked the captain, was reminded of the word for the night, and safely reached home again.
CHAPTER XII. FAREWELL TO THE CAVALIERS.
"If no more our banners shew
Battles won and banners taken,
Still in death, defeat, and woe,
Ours be loyalty unshaken."
SCOTT
The next day the whole family turned out to gather in the corn. Rusha was making attempts at reaping, while Emlyn played with little Ben, who toddled about, shouting and chasing her in and out among the shocks. Now and again they paused at the low, thunderous growl of the great guns in the distance, in strange contrast to their peaceful work, and once a foraging party of troopers rode up to the gate of the little field, but Steadfast met them there, and showed the officer Captain Venn's paper.
"So you belong to Kenton of Venn's Valiants? It is well. A blessing on your work!" said the stern dark-faced officer, and on he went, happily not seeing Emlyn make an ugly face and clench her little fist behind him.
"How can you, Stead?" she cried. "I'd rather be cursed than blessed by such as he!"
Stead shook his head slowly. "A blessing is better than a curse any way," said he, but his mind was a good deal confused between the piety and good conduct of these Roundheads, in contrast with their utter contempt of the Church, and rude dealing with all he had been taught to hold sacred.
His harvest was, however, the matter in hand, and the little patch of corn was cut and bound between him and his sisters, without further interruption. The sounds of guns had ceased early in the day, and a neighbour who had ventured down to the camp to offer some apples for sale leant over the gate to wonder at the safety of the crop, "though to be sure the soldiers were very civil, if they would let alone preaching at you;" adding that there was like to be no more fighting, for one of the gentlemen inside had ridden out with a white flag, and it was said the Prince was talking of giving in.
"Give in!" cried Emlyn setting her teeth. "Never. The Prince will soon make an end of the rebels, and then I shall ride-a-cock horse with our regiment again! I shall laugh to see the canting rogues run!"
But the first thing Steadfast heard the next day was that the royal standard had come down from the Cathedral tower. He had gone up to Elmwood to get some provisions, and Tom Oates, who spent most of his time in gazing from the steeple, assured him that if he would come up, he would see for himself that the flags were changed. Indeed some of the foot soldiers who had been quartered in the village to guard the roads had brought the certain tidings that the city had surrendered and that the malignants, as they called the Royalists, were to march out that afternoon, by the same road as that by which the parliamentary army had gone out two years before.
This would be the only chance for Emlyn to rejoin her father or to learn his fate. The little thing was wild with excitement at the news. Disdainfully she tore off what she called Rusha's Puritan rags, though as that offended maiden answered "her own were real rags in spite of all the pains Patience had taken with them. Nothing would make them tidy," and Rusha pointed to a hopeless stain and to the frayed edges past mending.
"I hate tidiness. Only Puritan rebels are tidy!"
"We are not Puritans!" cried Rusha.
Emlyn laughed. "Hark at your names," she said. "And what's that great rebel rogue of a brother of yours?"
"Oh! he is Jeph! He ran away to the wars! But Stead isn't a Puritan," cried Rusha, growing more earnest. "He always goes to church-real church down in Bristol. And poor father was churchmartin, and knew all the parson's secrets."
"Hush, Rusha," said Patience, not much liking this disclosure, however Jerusha might have come by the knowledge, "you and Emlyn don't want to quarrel when she is just going to say good-bye!"
This touched the little girls. Rusha had been much enlivened by the little fairy who had seen so much of the world, and had much more playfulness than the hard-worked little woodland maid; and Emlyn, who in spite of her airs, knew that she had been kindly treated, was drawn towards a companion of her own age, was very fond of little Ben, and still more so of Steadfast.
Ben cried, "Em not go;" and Rusha held her hand and begged her not to forget.