XXII + 

Of Jack Drumbleforth’s Return Home + 

You may be quite sure that we threw wide open our hearts and doors and welcomed our travellers with no little rejoicing. For though they had not been away from us for such a great length of time, having only been absent during the autumn and winter, yet it appeared a considerable season, and we were heartily glad to see their faces again. And so they were quickly in the great kitchen and everybody was shaking hands with them and the women were all talking together, so that you could not hear yourself speak for noise. Nay, so busied were they with asking questions and giving their own news as to what had happened during the travellers’ absence, that it was all Philip and Jack could do to get a word in or to swallow a mouthful of the food and drink which my mother and Lucy hastened to set on the table. But after awhile, when the first tumult of rejoicing was over and we were all sat round the hearth in the firelight, I was able to get a good look at my two old friends and notice how their adventures had fared with them. And I quickly perceived that even those few months of campaigning had changed Jack Drumbleforth in appearance, if in nothing else. For he was now bronzed and tanned like one who has been out much in all weathers, and he had grown a great beard and moustache, so that his face was much changed. But the same old eyes of honest gray looked out from above the same somewhat snubbed nose, and the eye twinkled when he said a sly thing just as in the old days. I could not think what Parson Drumbleforth would say to his son’s altered appearance, for Jack looked less like a learned clerk than ever. He had gotten himself a slight sword-cut on his right cheek, and this, while giving him a military air, also added something of distinction to him, according to the girls. Yea, indeed, in his scarlet coat and sash and great buff boots, with the sword at his side and his hair and beard trimmed in the Stuart fashion, Jack looked a very different fellow to the old Jack that used to make fun for us in the old days. + 

I suppose that nobody was more content that night than my mother, who, having a great horror of war and bloodshed, was only too well pleased to see our warriors home again with their heads and limbs still preserved to them. But she had been better pleased if Philip Lisle could have given her more satisfactory news about the war, which she wished to see terminate there and then, so dreadful a thing did it seem to her that Englishmen should fight with Englishmen. So she quickly began to make inquiry of Philip Lisle of the war and its prospects. + 

“What think you, sir?” said my mother. “Will the war soon come to an end?” + 

But at that he shook his head. + 

“Nay, madam,” said he, “I cannot answer that question, for I know not what to say. However, if I am to give an opinion, I should say that it will not. The issues are too great and the feeling too bitter for it to end yet. If it does end speedily it will only be by one party waiving its claims.” + 

“And neither will do that,” said Jack. “It will be war to the knife yet awhile. A sad enough thing it is, Mistress Dale, to have to cut your brother’s throat or fire an ounce of lead through his body, but that is what Englishmen are doing just now, and must continue to do, I fear.” + 

“Alas! a sad thing enough,” said my mother. “But what think you? Will the King prevail in this contest? We hear so much here that differs in opinion, some saying that the Parliament will win in the end, and some that the King will finally prevail over his enemies. What have you to say to it, sir?” + 

“A few months ago,” said Philip, “I should have answered your question with confidence, madam, for I could never have brought myself to believe that this land of England would have risen in open rebellion against the rightful monarch. Nay, I felt sure that his Majesty had only to erect his standard in order to secure the support of the greater portion of his people, before whose arm the malcontents would quickly yield. For Englishmen to rise against the throne they have built so carefully, seemed to me a most strange thing, and I felt assured that that bad feeling, if it did exist, could not exist long. And yet it would appear, madam, that the feeling of disaffection against his Majesty is deepening rather than lessening. I know not how it is: certain I am that he hath a kind heart and means well towards his subjects.” + 

“Yea,” said Jack, “a kind heart he hath, but a sad face. A sadder I never saw, and I have seen his some hundreds of times these last three months. He looks, Mistress Dale, as if he had no heart to smile, but is rather pondering on the fate that hath made him to be at war with his people. Now about politics I care naught and know little, but of this I am sure: I will fight for the King while ever there is any fight left in me, for it is my honest belief that he means well. Moreover, he is the King, which is good enough for a plain Englishman.” + 

“There are men nowadays, however,” said Philip Lisle, “who care naught for kings or priests, being persuaded that every man hath a right to judge for himself and please himself, and it is these men who are stirring up sedition against his Majesty. Now, I say this⁠—every man hath a right to judge for himself between right and wrong, between what is bad and what is good in his own heart, but he hath no right to judge between himself and lawfully constituted authority. For as Holy Scripture saith⁠—all power is of God, and according to that teaching, those who fight against the King do fight against God. I say this as a plain man who takes a plain meaning of Scripture.” + 

“Master Cromwell interpreteth not Scripture in that way,” said Jack. “Why, from what I hear he hath Scriptural warrant for everything he does. He is persuaded that the King is a common enemy to the people, and would, I doubt not, clap his Majesty into safe keeping, or even slay him as being such. They say that he fights with the Scriptures in one hand and the sword in the other.” + 

“Whatever the man is else,” said Philip Lisle, “he is a soldier and a great general. His regiment will make its mark whenever he leads it.” + 

“Yea, it will so!” said Jack. “It would do thee good, Will, to see these psalm-singing knaves who sing and slay with the heartiest goodwill. Finely drilled and equipped they are, and have their heart in their work, like Master Cromwell, their leader. I have heard that he will have no man in his company who does not make this war a personal matter. He wants naught of swashbucklers and suchlike, of which sort we have too many in our army⁠—men who fight for fighting’s sake.” + 

“And what, sir, will be done,” asked my mother, “if the King’s Majesty doth not prevail in this war?” + 

“Nay, madam, I know not. Perhaps we shall be ruled by a Parliament, or maybe some of those who are now stirring up the country against the King will assume the King’s place.” + 

“And what would they do with the King?” said Lucy. + 

“Marry, child, there are men in England this day who would gladly cut off the King’s head and have done with him altogether. Yea, and would compass land and sea to do it. But what if they do? The King never dies, and if they slay Charles the First, Charles the Second will arise in his place. But much will come to pass ere ever these things happen. Meanwhile, let us be thankful we are with you again, safe and sound, save for a scratch or two.” + 

“I have an old father at home,” said Jack, rising from his chair, “and it is time I sought him. Will, come with me to the gate and see me depart.” + 

“Nay, I will ride with you,” I said, and went and saddled our horses. I wanted to have a word or two with Jack in private. So I bade them leave the door open for me and set out with my old friend along the highway towards Darrington. It was a dark night and a cold one, but not so dark nor so cold that Jack and I could not understand each other. + 

“ ’Tis a grand thing, Will, lad,” said he, as we rode along the familiar road, “ ’tis a grand thing to be home once more amongst the old faces and places. How goes everything with you, Will? Ben Tuckett⁠—how prospers worthy Ben? Is he in love as deeply as ever with Mistress Lucy?” + 

“Ben prospers exceedingly, Jack, and is growing sleek and comely. As for love, he is deeper and deeper in it every day.” + 

“I am glad of that,” he answered. “When once a man hath fallen in love with a maid, he doth well to advance in the sweet passion rather than draw back. But now, Will, hast thou not made some progress in this same art of love since last we met?” + 

“Enough, Jack, to have come to the conclusion that Mistress Rose Lisle is the fairest creature under God’s sun. Yea, Jack, and I have told her so some scores of times already. So there is another pair of us besides Ben and Lucy. It only needs for thee to find a mate, and then thy father could marry all three pairs at one time.” + 

“Nay, lad, you had best not wait for me, or you will put off your happiness a long time. Well, thy news is good news, old lad, and I am glad to hear it.” + 

But I had more news for him than that, and proceeded to tell him of my adventure with Dennis Watson, and of the latter’s threat to do me further injury, together with all particulars of the duel and its consequences. + 

“It would seem that the old sore has not yet healed,” said Jack. “Certainly you will have to reckon scores with Dennis sooner or later, Will. Be watchful, for he will do you an injury in an underhand fashion if he gets the chance. And hark ye, if you think that he hath a leaning towards Mistress Rose, watch him with both eyes. You will have your work set, for Dennis Watson is an ugly customer at any time, being, I take it, both cruel and ingenious in his contrivances.” + 

“Let him do his worst,” I answered; “I will account for him in the end.” + 

By this time we had come to Darrington, and rode quietly up the village street until we came against the vicarage, which is a plain, foursquare house standing at the foot of Church Lane and communicating with the church by a path that leads through the vicarage garden into the graveyard. Now, it being very late, and the whole village in quietness, we did not wish to make any great noise, so we stole round by the lane into the Vicar’s farmyard, across which we went very quietly, fastening our steeds to the stable-door meanwhile. There was a light shining through the latticework of the pantry, so that we judged Mistress Deborah to be awake. In this suspicion we were right, for presently, creeping up to the open latticework, we heard her soundly rating the cat, which in its haste to escape from the pantry had knocked over and spilt a bowl of cream. + 

“A plague on ye,” said Mistress Deborah, “ye nasty, good-for-nothing varmint, to waste all my cream that was meant for his reverence’s porridge in the morning! How am I to replace that, I would like to know, and not one of the cows yielding a quart a day! Sure there is nothing but worry and disappointment in this world!” + 

She was now close upon the lattices and, peeping through, we could see her. “She is just the same as ever,” whispered Jack. “Let’s tap the lattice and give her a fright.” + 

Whereupon he let his fist fall with such weight upon the lattice that Mistress Deborah uttered a scream and seemed likely to let fall her brass candlestick and leave herself in darkness. + 

“Mercy on us!” said she, “what’s that? More work of the cat’s, I warrant me. An Master John had been home, I should say ’twas him. Ah, poor Master John, indeed! ’Tis a poor trade, fighting, and him his reverence’s only son, too. Well, well, everybody to their likes.” + 

“Ho, Deborah!” said Jack, in a deep voice, “Deborah!” + 

Now, Mistress Deborah no sooner heard her name pronounced than she whipped out of the pantry and flung open the kitchen door, so that in another instant she had seized Jack by the neck and was squeezing the breath out of his body. + 

“Ah!” quoth she, when she had welcomed him in this fashion. “As if I did not know your voice, Master John! I warrant me you have come up to yon lattice a thousand and one times and said, ‘Ho, Deborah!’ in just those tones. And you are safe and sound and no bones broken! The Lord be thanked! Is the wars over, Master John, and did⁠—” + 

“Good Deborah,” said Jack, “ask me naught now, but let me to my father. Where is he⁠—is he well?” + 

“Why, well enough but for a little cold in the nose, Master John, got by burying Gaffer Burton’s grandchild t’other day⁠—a wet, slushy day as ever I saw. Oh, why, he’s in his own chamber, Master John, with his books; but you must tread soft, for his reverence is like to be at his devotions.” + 

“Come with me, Will,” said Jack; and we passed through the kitchen to the room where the Vicar kept his books and composed his sermons and saw such of his parishioners as called upon him. The door was a little way open, and a broad beam of light shone through the opening into the hall. We stole quietly up to this and peeped through. True enough, Parson Drumbleforth was at his devotions, kneeling at a little desk with his great Prayerbook before him, and his white hair shining in the lamplight. And just as we came within hearing he was praying for his son, who was there within a yard or two of him. + 

“And take care, good Lord, of my son Jack, who hath gone to the wars, and bring him back to me, who have naught but him left to love⁠—” + 

“Father, father!” cried Jack, bursting in. “Here I am, father, back again, safe and sound.” + 

And so I left them looking into each other’s eyes, and went out and rode away in the darkness towards home. + 