The Lions Whelp 7

The Lions Whelp 7

"He led his own troop of the solid fen men of Cambridgeshire. I saw

their blue banner waving wherever Tonbert carried it."

 

"And John?"

 

"Was with Lambert’s Yorkshiremen. No one could resist them. Cymlin

rode with Cromwell. Cymlin was never behindhand yet."

 

"I thank God for my men. I give them gladly to His Cause."

 

Jane’s face was radiant, and tears of enthusiasm filled her eyes. She

kissed the doctor proudly, and ran to send a messenger to de Wick with

the tidings of Dunbar. When she returned she sat down by his side, and

leaning her head against his arm, began to question him:

 

"Dr. John, at Marston Moor Leslie fought _with_ Cromwell, was with him

in that glorious charge, where he got the name of Ironside. Why then

was he fighting against Cromwell at Dunbar?"

 

"The Scotch have had many minds in this war, Jane. Just now they are

determined to make Presbyterianism dominant in England, and give us the

young man, Charles Stuart, for our king. And Englishmen will not have

either King or Presbytery. As far as that goes, most of them would

rather take the Book of Common Prayer than touch the Scotch Covenant.

And as for the young man, Charles Stuart, he is false as hell from his

beard to his boots; false to the Scots, false to the English, true to no

one."

 

"And you, Doctor, how do you feel?"

 

"My little girl, I was born an Independent. I have preached and

suffered for liberty of conscience; if I could deny it, I would deny my

baptism. I’ll do neither—not while my name is John Verity."

 

Then Jane lifted his big hand and kissed it, and answered, "I thought

so!"

 

"And if England wants a king," he continued, "she can make one; she has

good men enough to choose from."

 

"Some say that Cromwell will make himself king."

 

"Some people know no more of Cromwell than a mite knows of a

cheesemonger. Nevertheless, Cromwell is the Captain of England. He has

expressed her heart, he has done her will."

 

"Yet he is not without faults," said Mrs. Swaffham.

 

"I don’t see his faults, Martha. I see only him. Great men may have

greater faults than little men can find room for; and Cromwell is

beloved of God, and therefore not always explainable to men."

 

"He has dared to do many things which even his own party do not

approve."

 

"Jane, they who care will dare, though it call flame upon them. And

Cromwell loves to lead on the verge of the impossible, for it is then he

can invoke the aid of the Omnipotent."

 

"I thought the Scotch were a very good, religious people."

 

"God made them to be good, but He knew they wouldn’t be; so He also made

Oliver Cromwell."

 

"Are you going further, Doctor?" asked Mrs. Swaffham.

 

"No, Martha. I mean to stay here until the General’s messenger joins

me. He sent a letter to London by the young Lord Cluny Neville, and he

took the direct road there, so we parted very early in the day; but he

calls here for me on his return, and we shall go back together, if so

God wills, to Edinburgh. And now, Jane Swaffham, if thou be a discreet

young woman, be careful of the young Lord Cluny Neville."

 

"Why am I warned, Doctor?"

 

"Because he is one of those men who take women captive with his beauty—a

very gracious youth—a great lover of the General, and much loved by

him."

 

"I never heard you speak of Lord Cluny Neville before."

 

"Because I did not know him before. He came into our camp at

Musselburgh and offered Cromwell his sword. The two men looked at each

other steadily for a full minute, and in that minute Cromwell loved the

young man. He saw down into his heart, and trusted him. Later, he told

me that he reminded him of his own son, Oliver, who, as you know, was

killed in battle just before Naseby. He has set his heart on the youth,

and shows him great favour. Some are jealous of the boy, and make a

grumble that he is so much trusted."

 

"How can they be so foolish? I wonder the General suffers them. Surely

he can have some one to love near him," said Mrs. Swaffham.

 

"Well, Martha, it was part of the Apostle’s wisdom to suffer fools

gladly. My brother Oliver can do it; and there is nothing wiser or more

difficult. I cannot do it. I would rough them! rough them! till they

learnt their folly, and left it."

 

"If this young Lord is taking a letter to Madame Cromwell, then why did

not Israel write to me?"

 

"Oh, the unreasonableness of women! Can a man write when he is in the

saddle pursuing the enemy? Israel and Lambert left immediately with

seven regiments for Edinburgh. He sent you words full of love and

comfort; so did your sons; what would you have, woman?"

 

"The General wrote to the Generaless."

 

"He wrote on the battle-field, the cries of the wounded and dying in his

ears, all horror and confusion around him. He was giving orders about

the arms and the artillery, and about the movement of the troops as he

wrote. But he knew his wife and children were waiting in sore anxiety

for news—and not expecting good news—and ’twas a miracle how he did

write at all. No one else could have brought heart and hands to a pen."

 

"I think Israel might have written."

 

"I’ll be bound you do! It’s woman-like."

 

"What do you think of the young Charles Stuart?" asked Jane. "It is

said he has taken the Covenant, and is turned pious."

 

"I think worse of him than of his father. He is an unprincipled

malignant—a brazen villain, changing and chopping about without faith in

God or man. Englishmen will have none of him—and the Scots can’t force

him on them."

 

"Dunbar settled that; eh, Doctor?"

 

"I should say that Dunbar has done the job for all the Presbyterian

tribe."

 

"But oh, the suffering, Doctor!" said Mrs. Swaffham. "Think of that."

 

"I do, Martha. But God’s will be done. Let them suffer. In spite of

Cromwell’s entreaties and reasonings, they had taken in the Stuart to

force him upon us as king—a king who at this very moment, has a popish

army fighting for him in Ireland; who has Prince Rupert—red with the

blood of Englishmen—at the head of ships stolen from us on a malignant

account; who has French and Irish ships constantly ravaging our coasts,

and who is every day issuing commissions to raise armies in the very

heart of England to fight Englishmen. Treachery like this concerns all

good people. Shall such a matchless, astonishing traitor indeed reign

over us? If we were willing for it, we should be worthy of ten thousand

deaths—could ten thousand deaths be endured. Now let me go to rest. I

am weary and sleepy, and have won the right to sleep. Give me a verse

to sleep on."

 

Mrs. Swaffham answered at once, as if she had been pondering the words,

"’He lifted up his face to heaven, and praised the king of heaven. And

said, from Thee cometh victory, from Thee cometh wisdom, and Thine is

the glory, and I am Thy servant.’"

 

"Thank you, Martha; you have spoken well for me;" and with a smile he

turned his beaming eyes on Jane, and she said confidently—

 

"’Strive for the truth unto death, and the Lord shall fight for thee.’"

 

"Amen, Jane! And as you have given me a word of Jesus, the son of

Sirach, so will I give you both one, and you may ponder it in your

hearts—’Many kings have sat down upon the ground, and one that was never

thought of, hath worn the crown.’"

 

Then Mrs. Swaffham put her hand on the Doctor’s arm to stay him, and she

asked, "Do you remember the flag the women of Huntingdon and Ely gave to

General Cromwell just before Naseby?"

 

"I do. It was a great lion—the lion of England guarding the Cross of

England. And your Israel made the speech. I am not likely to forget

it."

 

"Then you also remember that as Israel was speaking, the east wind rose,

and stretched wide-out the silk folds, so that the big tawny lion

watching the red cross was blown straight above the General’s bare head.

And there was a murmur of wonder, and then a great shout, and Israel

pointing to the flag and the man below it, cried out—

 

"Behold your Captain! Cromwell ’is a lion’s whelp—from the prey thou

art gone up, my son—and unto Him shall the gathering of the people be.’"

 

"I was standing with Mrs. Cromwell and the girls," said Jane; "and at

the shout he turned to them, and little Frances ran to him and he gave

the flagstaff into your hand, Doctor, and then stooped and tied the

child’s tippet. Then Mary and I went closer, and to us he was just the

same Mr. Cromwell that I knew years ago, when I sat on his knee, and put

my arms round his neck, and he kissed me as tenderly as if I was one of

his own little girls. But for all that, something of power and majesty

clothed him like a garment, and the people generally feared to touch the

hem of it."

 

"_A lion’s whelp!_" he said proudly, "and while England’s lion has such

whelps, she may make and unmake kings as is best for her." Then he lit

his candle and went stamping down the flagged passage that led to his

room. The men and women of the house were waiting there for a word, and

with the open door in one hand and the candle in the other, he bade them

good-morning with the notable verse Jane had given him for his own

comfort. And as he did so, he suddenly remembered that these words had

been written thousands of years ago for _his_ encouragement; and he was

filled with wonder at the thought, and he called out, "Men and women,

all of you, listen once again to the word of the Lord—

 

"’Strive for the truth unto death, and the Lord shall fight for you.’"

 

In the meantime Mrs. Swaffham and Jane were going slowly up-stairs. "We

can have two or three hours sleep, Jane," said Mrs. Swaffham; and Jane

answered, "Yes" like one who either heard not, or cared not. Her mother

understood. She said softly, "He was thinking of Cromwell when he said

’one that was never thought of’—about the crown I mean, Jane?"

 

"Yes, mother—_Oliver Rex_!"

 

"It might be."

 

"It ought to be. He has conquered England, Ireland, Scotland:—William

of Normandy had not a third of his right."

 

"I wish I could forget the man; for I must lose myself for an hour or

two, or I shall be good for nothing when daylight comes. You, too,

Jane, go and sleep."

 

She said, "Yes, mother." But sleep was a thousand miles away from Jane Swaffham.