Kitabı oku: «Boscobel: or, the royal oak», sayfa 37
CHAPTER XXV.
THE PARTING AT STONEHENGE
There stand those grey mysterious circles of stones, that for centuries have braved the storms that have beaten upon the wide dreary plain on which they have been placed – none can tell how, or when. There they stand – stern, solemn, hoar, crusted with lichens, incomprehensible, enigmatical as the Sphinx; muttering tales of days forgotten, and of a people whose habits, customs, and creed are no longer understood. So strange and mysterious are the old stones, that no wonder the wildest fables have been told of them. Some have thought the pile was reared by magic art, others have deemed it the work of the Evil One, intended by him as a temple where unhallowed rites might be practised. But by whatever giant hands the mighty pile was reared, in whatever age and for whatever purpose – hallowed, or unhallowed – whether as an altar for human sacrifice, as a court of justice, or as a place of execution, all is now dim conjecture. There the huge stones stand as of yore, but their history is clean forgotten.
Though a couple of centuries are little in the history of Stonehenge, a great change has taken place since Charles visited the wondrous monument. A change for the worse. The mighty stones are there, but the aspect of the spot is altered. The genius of solitude that brooded over the pile has fled – fled with the shy bustard that once haunted its mystic circles, and with the ravens that perched on the stones. The wide rolling surface of the plain was then wholly uncultivated. Nothing was to be seen except the clustering barrows, and the banks that marked what is now called, with what truth we know not, a Roman cursus.
Charles approached the pile by an avenue edged by grassy banks, gazing with wonder, not unmixed with awe, at the gigantic circles. As he rode slowly on he came to a single upright stone, and paused to look at it.
Familiar with the legends of the spot, Careless informed the king that the stone was called "The Friar's Heel."
"The tale runs," he said, "that while the Evil One was engaged in constructing those mysterious circles, a friar passed by, and was indiscreet enough to make some disparaging remark upon the works. Having done so, he fled. The Demon, in a rage, hurled a huge stone at him, and grazed his heel, but did not check him. There stands the stone, deeply plunged in the earth, to prove the truth of the legend."
Passing through the outer circle of smaller stones, they dismounted, and fastening up their horses to an obelisk-shaped fragment, surveyed the mighty ruin, examining the trilithons and monoliths.
"There is a superstition," observed Careless, "that these stones cannot be counted alike twice."
"I have heard it," replied Charles; "and I remember what Sir Philip Sydney says on the subject:
Near Wilton sweet huge heaps of stones are found.
But so confused, that neither any eye
Can count them just, nor reason reason try
What force them brought to so unlikely ground.
"Let us make the attempt. 'Twill serve to pass the time till our friends arrive. Do you think you can count them?" he said to Juliana.
"I will try, my liege," she replied. "Where shall I begin?"
"With the altar-stone," replied Charles.
Juliana then commenced her task, going carefully through the different circles, and not pausing till she reached the last stone.
"How many do you make them?" asked Charles.
"Seventy-seven," she replied.
"My reckoning agrees with yours," cried Careless, who had followed her.
"So far good," observed Charles. "But you have not included the recumbent 'slaughtering stone' near the entrance, nor the 'Friar's Heel' in the avenue, nor the two small stones near the earthen bank. Those will increase the number to eighty-one. Now for the second trial. Start from this stone."
Very carefully Juliana performed her task. When she had reached the altar-stone, a smile lighted up her charming countenance, and she exclaimed joyously:
"Seventy-seven! I have counted the stones alike twice – and disproved the fable."
After congratulating her on her success, Charles observed:
"I wonder whether a loving pair were ever betrothed at this altar?"
The significance given to the words, and the look that accompanied them, made Juliana cast down her eyes.
"'Tis strange that the same thought should have occurred to me," remarked Careless. "How say you, sweetheart?" he continued, taking Juliana's hand. "Shall we plight our vows here, in his majesty's presence? You know that duty calls me hence, and that I may be long detained in France. Let me feel certain I shall not lose you."
"You need not doubt me, Careless," she rejoined, tenderly. "I shall ever be constant to you."
They then bent before the king, and Careless, still holding her hand, exclaimed:
"Bear witness, sire, that I solemnly plight my faith to Juliana Coningsby."
"And I as solemnly plight my faith to William Careless," she added.
"I cannot pronounce a benediction upon you," said Charles. "But I can bear witness to your betrothal. May your union speedily take place; and when it does take place, may you be happy!"
The betrothed pair had just risen, when the trampling of horse was heard.
"They come! they come!" exclaimed the king, joyously. "You were only just in time."
And he hastened to the entrance of the pile.
When he reached the outer circle he perceived Lord Wilmot, accompanied by Colonel Wyndham and Colonel Philips, galloping towards the spot. With them was a fourth Cavalier, whom he doubted not was Colonel Gunter.
In another minute the party came up, sprang from their steeds, and advanced towards the king, who could not fail to read good news in their countenances.
"Welcome, my lord! thrice welcome!" he cried to Lord Wilmot.
"Yes, I bring you good news, my liege," replied his lordship. "But it is for Colonel Gunter to tell it."
Colonel Gunter was then presented to the king, and after making a profound obeisance, said:
"Your majesty will be pleased to hear that I have succeeded in hiring a vessel at Shoreham to transport you to Dieppe. She is only sixty tons, but a good, stout, well-built bark, and her master, Nicholas Tattersall, is perfectly honest and loyal. The vessel is laden with sea-coal, and bound for Poole, and Tattersall will at first stand for the Isle of Wight, but when he has been out at sea for a few hours he will alter his course, and make for the French coast. The skipper will be ready to sail as soon as your majesty and your companions reach Shoreham. With your permission I will attend you thither."
"This is good news indeed!" cried Charles, transported with delight. "All my difficulties and dangers seem now at an end."
"The only difficulties and dangers your majesty has to apprehend may occur during our journey to Shoreham," observed Colonel Gunter. "But I trust we shall avoid them all."
"Yes, sire, I firmly believe the worst is past," said Colonel Wyndham. "Providence, who has hitherto watched over you, will guard you on your journey, and bring you safely to the coast. You need not fear the repetition of such an untoward circumstance as took place at Lyme. Would I could see you embark, but I should only endanger you if I went with you!"
"No, thou hast done enough, Frank," cried the king, patting him affectionately on the shoulder – "far more than I ever shall be able to requite. We must part here – not for long, I trust. Thou shalt lend me thy horse, and take that which I have ridden. He will bear thee and Juliana back to Trent. Fail not to give my adieux to thy most amiable wife, and to thy venerated mother, whom I love as a son!"
He then turned to Juliana, and found that her bright eyes were dimmed. She had just parted with Careless.
"Be of good cheer," he said. "I promise you he shall soon return."
"Your majesty, I fear, promises more than you can perform," she sighed. "But I will hope for the best."
"I cannot thank you sufficiently for all you have done for me," he said. "But you will always have a place next to Jane Lane in my regard. How I shall prosper when I have lost you both Heaven only knows. Farewell!"
He then pressed her hand to his lips, and springing on the steed from which Colonel Wyndham had just dismounted, he called to the others to join him, and was soon afterwards seen careering at their head across Salisbury Plain.
