“to say kings are accountable to none but god, is the overturning of all law and government. for if they may refuse to give account, then all covenants made with them at coronation, all oaths are in vain, and mere mockeries; all laws which they swear to keep, made to no purpose. aristotle, whom we commonly allow for one of the best interpreters of nature and morality writes that ‘monarchy unaccountable is the worst sort of tyranny, and least of all to be endured by free-born men.’”—milton.

towards christmas the fever abated, but the sufferings of the prisoners from the intense cold were very great. gabriel, whose vigorous youth had hitherto withstood better than the rest the rigours of the life in the castle, began now to show signs of all the long vigils he had kept with the sick and the dying, and sandy, who was really fond of him, watched him with wistful eyes, feeling sure that he would before long succumb.

it was not until christmas eve that aaron’s threat of filling up the gaps was fulfilled. then, about two o’clock in the afternoon the door was flung open and the gaoler pushed in a young, active-looking man, dressed in mourning attire which had evidently seen hard service.

“good-day to you, gentlemen,” he said, pleasantly. “i am sorry to add to your number, and fear you will scarcely welcome a new-comer.”

“on the contrary, sir,” said rawlyns of marlborough, “though sorry for the evil plight you find yourself in, we are right glad to welcome any visitor who can give us news.” gabriel made room on his bench for the new-comer, looking with a sense of relief at the well-clad figure, and at the refreshing cleanliness of his ruddy face and well-kept light-brown hair.

“you are a prisoner of war, sir?” he inquired, doubtfully.

“‘pon my life! i know not what i am,” said the visitor. “save that i am one humphrey neal, burnt out of house and home at chinnor last summer by the royalists, and since then a wanderer. to-day, having business to see to in oxford i rode into the city, and was promptly arrested as a spy.”

“are you for the parliament?” asked rawlyns.

“well, sir, i have never meddled with matters of state, and have thought more of hawking and hunting than of politics; but it is true that since the wanton destruction of my house, the robbery of all my live stock, and the devastation of my crops i bear no good-will to the royalists.”

“i heard of the burning of the village of chinnor from my friend, captain heyworth,” said gabriel. “it was, if i remember right, on the night before colonel hampden got his death-wound at chalgrove field.”

“oh, you are a friend of captain heyworth,” said humphrey neal. “’tis a small world, where we are for ever coming across unlooked-for connections. your friend hath lately wedded a pretty kinswoman of mine, heiress to sir robert neal, of katterliam court house.”

gabriel’s face lighted up.

“i have heard naught of him since the battle of lansdown, when we knew that he was grievously wounded. he recovered then?”

“ay, he not only recovered, but served all through the siege of gloucester, and as i say, wedded my cousin. i saw her at katterham but a se’nnight since.”

“and met her husband also?”

“no, he had rejoined sir william waller, and was at farnham, and by this time will most like be laying siege to arundel castle, which had been seized by my lord hopton.”

“sir ralph hopton has been raised to the peerage, then?” said gabriel, remembering vividly his last sight of the royalist general when he had saved him from bleeding to death after the explosion.

“ay, the king was anxious, they say, to show him some mark of favour to make up for the scurvy fashion in which prince rupert treated him at bristol.”

“we have heard little of the outer world,” said gabriel, “save some account of the fight at newbury.”

“belike you have not heard, then, of the death of mr. pym?”

there was a suppressed exclamation of grief and dismay through the room, for in the death of the great parliamentary leader they all knew that the country had sustained an irreparable loss. great soldiers were left to them, but the greatest statesman of the age had passed away.

“he had been failing throughout the autumn, and died of an internal abscess the eighth night of this month,” said humphrey neal. “in company with my kinsman, sir robert, i was present at his funeral in king henry vii.‘s chapel at westminster—a great gathering it was, too, the lords and commons, the assembly of divines, and a host of people besides being there.”

“perchance your presence there was noted by some of the king’s spies, and may account for your arrest to-day,” said gabriel. “your kinsman, sir robert neal, hath all his life opposed the court party.”

“that is true. years ago he was imprisoned for refusing to pay one of the loans which the king illegally enforced, and hath ever since been a marked man. doubtless, that explains the matter. what are the chances of escape here?”

“the only hope would be through sandy, the half-witted lad who helps the gaoler,” said gabriel. “he hath a curious liking for me, which might prove of use. otherwise, i see no possible way, though i have made many plans to wile away the time.”

the advent of this fresh, vigorous, well-fed man seemed to raise the spirits of all the half-starved prisoners, and christmas day found them almost cheerful. the friendly robin had never afforded them more amusement, and they were so intent on showing off his many tricks and accomplishments to humphrey neal that they never noticed the entrance of aaron the gaoler. it was too late to conceal the bird, and certain that the brutal fellow would, if possible, kill it, gabriel deliberately let it fly, and with satisfaction watched it perch on one of the rafters.

“what mischief are you hatching?” said aaron, angrily.

“we did but watch a bird that hath harboured here,” said gabriel, watching the robin rather apprehensively as it flew about overhead. aaron made ineffectual efforts to reach it with his rod, growing more surly with each failure.

“drat the bird,” he said. “i can’t waste my time over it; but you can spend your christmas in the sport of taking its life, and i shall expect you to hand it over to me when i next come in.”

gabriel made no reply, but secretly resolved to let the bird out of the window rather than place it in the hands of the gaoler. aaron turned to vent his ill-humour on humphrey neal.

“and as for you, sir, you’d better make the most of this day, for ’tis like to be your last. we give spies short shrift in oxford.”

“i am no spy,” said humphrey, indignantly.

“men say that the gentleman that journeyed from london t’other day had only come on a matter of business about moneys due to him; but the governor of oxford, sir arthur aston, had him racked nathless and hung him the day after,” said aaron, with a chuckle.

humphrey muttered an imprecation and turned away.

whereupon aaron burst into a fit of laughter.

“you’d better have a care, sir, your fellow-prisoners don’t allow profane words, and come from the ranks where twelve-pence is the fine for every oath. oh, yes, i know you well, you dogs. and pray where is now your god, you roundhead rogues? you prayed to the lord to deliver you, and you see how he hath delivered you, ye rebels!”

the prisoners maintained a resolute silence, but gabriel’s heart was cheered when, as if in reply to the taunt, the robin overhead burst into a song full of hope and glad confidence.

the daily dole of food having been left, aaron and sandy withdrew, and the prisoners spent the greater part of the morning in discussing the possibility of escape for the newcomer, whose life was evidently in danger. about noon gabriel reluctantly fed the tame robin for the last time, then climbing with humphrey’s aid up to the narrow, deeply splayed window, he let the bird out into the open, and with a sad heart watched it fly away over the snowy country.

“i see the mill stream is frozen,” he said, scrambling down again.

“would the ice bear, think you?”

“yes, the frost hath held these four days past,” said humphrey. “but we can scarce look for skating,” and he laughed forlornly.

“yet if we could only get hold of sandy without aaron, i think we might prevail on him to let you pass—and then to find the castle ditch frozen might make all the difference to you. there is sure to be feasting among the guard on christmas day, and the watch will not be strictly kept.”

“why should you not all make a bold push for freedom?” said humphrey.

“what, forty of us at one time?” said gabriel, his breath coming fast. “oh! if we could but do it! yet i doubt most of the prisoners are overweak with illness and starvation. and then again all would hinge on sandy’s coming again ere night, and coming alone, which doth not often happen.”

nevertheless the matter was generally discussed, and though some were absolutely hopeless, others thought it might possibly be carried through. the lawyer was not among the sanguine ones, however.

“you are young, you are young,” he said to gabriel. “mr. neal merely plans what is the first thought of every prisoner. i made such schemes myself once, but they availed naught do me the favour, sir, to lend to me one of your books that i may solace myself with reading till the light fails.”

gabriel, somewhat damped by his friend’s words, produced the little 12mo copy of the earliest edition of owen felltham’s “resolves,” which falkland had given him, then again withdrew to his bench to talk with humphrey neal.

in the afternoon, a little before sunset, the door was suddenly yet stealthily opened. gabriel looked up hopefully, for sure enough sandy appeared, but the next moment the unwelcome sight of aaron close at his heels robbed him of all hope. the fellow had evidently been drinking, and was in his most dangerous humour.

“now then, you rogues, hand over the bird,” he said, glancing round the ward and eyeing the lawyer with special suspicion, for he had not failed to note that his hand had hastily sought his pocket. gabriel stood up.

“the bird is not here it has flown away these two hours or more.”

“you lie, you dog. i saw that traitor from marlborough conceal it as i entered.”

“the bird has gone, we all saw it go,” maintained the other prisoners unanimously.

aaron was not, however, to be convinced. he pounced on the lawyer, dragged the coat from his back, and plunging his dirty hands into the pockets drew forth—not, indeed, the bird—but falkland’s little book.

“you dare to conceal books against the provost-marshal’s rule!” he exclaimed. “you shall be soundly beaten for this, you numskull.”

but gabriel, unable to bear the thought of such a punishment for the haggard and wan invalid who had but lately recovered from the fever, strode forward.

“the book is mine,” he said, deliberately taking it from the gaoler and boldly thrusting it into his pocket. this, as he had foreseen, wholly diverted the furious aaron from the lawyer.

“’tis yours, is it?” he cried, tearing off gabriel’s doublet, and with one vigorous pull splitting in half his ragged shirt. “you’ve tried the hangman’s whip, you roundhead rogue, and we will see now if a sound drubbing from my rod will tame you. ho! sandy! give me your broad back for a whipping post, and if you don’t hold this vile traitor’s wrists fast, i’ll flog you to a jelly yourself.”

sandy slouched forward whimpering and reluctant, yet not daring to disobey his tyrant. a sob rose in his throat as he felt the prisoner leaning on his shoulders, and gripped the thin wrists fast about his neck as aaron had bidden him.

meanwhile humphrey neal had stood by intently watching all that passed. the sight of gabriel’s back, however, scarred for life by the flogging he had received that autumn, sent such a storm of rage through him that for a moment he was not calm enough for action. aaron’s rod was raised once, and a violent blow fell on the scarred shoulders. the rod was raised a second time, but humphrey, knowing now how to intervene, sprang forward, seized it in his strong grasp, and flinging his left arm about the gaoler’s throat suddenly tripped him up by an unexpected lunge at the back of his knee. springing aside he let the half-tipsy fellow fall heavily on to the ground, and a thrill of relief passed through every man in the place when they heard the resounding crash with which this brutal tyrant’s head met the floor.

humphrey neal bent over him for a moment.

“the fellow is not dead, but i’ll warrant him not to stir for the next three hours—he’s not the first villain i have tripped up in that fashion.”

“oh! lord! oh! lord! whatever will become of me?” whimpered sandy. “he’ll beat me to a jelly when he comes to himself.”

“look you here, sandy,” said gabriel, hastily putting on his doublet and cloak. “no one shall harm you if you will but help us to escape. we will take you with us, and you shall never clap eyes on aaron again. come, let us down the steps, there’s a good fellow.”

he put his hand on the lad’s shoulder kindly, and sandy, like a dog that has been caressed by his master, was ready to dare anything in his service.

“they will be feasting and gaming by now, will they not? and the guard will be but slight,” suggested gabriel.

“ay, sir, but there be a sentry at both the gates,” said sandy, scratching his head.

“help us, then, on to the castle wall, the key of the entrance will surely be on this bunch. i know well there is a way from this tower on to the outer wall. do you seize the keys, and lock aaron safely into this room while we steal quietly down.”

sandy began to look more hopeful. “you’ll be needing ropes,” he suggested. “and where be i to find them?”

“i saw a big coil of rope at the top of the tower the day my lord falkland came here,” said gabriel. “i will come with you to search for it, and we will leave the rest to follow, bringing the keys with them.”

sandy obeyed blindly, and before long the two had returned with the coil of rope. never had the old walls of st. george’s tower seen a more extraordinary sight than the escape of the forty prisoners of war in the dusk of that wintry afternoon. the white, haggard faces of the half-starved men bore an indescribable air of grim resolution. silently as ghosts, they made their way down the tower, and with marvellous self-control crept one by one on to the outer wall.

this was the most dangerous moment, for it seemed only too possible that the guard at the main entrance might see them. from the osney gate they were partially screened by st. george’s tower itself, and, crouching as low as was possible, they devoutly hoped that the christmas feasting would have made the guard more or less drowsy.

humphrey neal and rawlyns of marlborough were the first to emerge, and they busied themselves with making the rope fast to the battlements; then one ghost-like figure after another glided forth, until, last of all, sandy and gabriel appeared, locking the entrance after them and pocketing the bunch of keys.

it was agreed that humphrey neal should be the first to test the rope. if it would bear his weight it would certainly bear the lean and fever-worn prisoners.

breathlessly they watched him slide down and alight safely on the snowy slope beside the millstream.

“let us not wait for each other,” said gabriel, “but each cross the ice and seek safety beyond in whatever quarter seems to him best.”

to this they all agreed, and without risking another word to each other they one by one let themselves over the wall, and crossing the frozen millstream escaped in various directions, mostly going in groups of three or four.

now and then gabriel, as he awaited his turn, heard sounds of merriment from within the castle walls, and as sandy slid down the rope a distant echo of “the boar’s head” chorus floated up to him. his hearing seemed to have become preternaturally acute, and he shivered a little when through the frosty air he heard the guard at the main entrance whistling the refrain.

and now at length sandy stood on the bank below and gabriel’s turn had come. with a heart beating high with hope and excitement he let himself over the wall, and grasping the rope swung in mid air, descending hand over hand, while the distant sound of the singers within floated back to him:

the boar’s head, as i understand,

is the bravest dish in all the land.

he alighted safely in the snow, and found his arm gripped by humphrey neal, then as the chorus of the carol was shouted out they cautiously made their way over the frozen millstream, and were just scrambling up the opposite bank when the sharp barking of a dog startled them into anxious listening once more.

crouching among the bushes, they heard a discussion being held by the guard, and trembled lest a sentry should pass along to the spot on the walls where their rope was made fast. it was now that sandy came to their aid, for he knew the dog and coaxed it to his side, fondling it into quiet and good humour.

by this time the other prisoners had safely disappeared in the gathering twilight of the short december day. they resolved to linger no more, but, bidding sandy follow, began to walk rapidly to the other side of the city, choosing, as far as might be, the back streets and alleys.

some wandering minstrels on a round of carol-singing before long attracted their notice, and they observed that one of the company lingered far behind the others, rolling about unsteadily as he walked, and tipsily twanging his lute. when by-and-by his companions trooped into an alehouse, he wandered aimlessly along by himself, swearing profusely, yet occasionally chanting a boisterous refrain of “noel—noel,” in a fashion that made humphrey laugh heartily.

“in ten minutes the fellow must fall into the kennel,” he said, gaily, “and, if so, he may prove of use to us. ay, to be sure! i knew he couldn’t stagger on much longer.”

“don’t belabour me like that,” groaned the minstrel, apostrophising the stones, “i was keeping the best of time. ‘noel! noel! noel! noel!’ my throat’s on fire. we’ll have a stoup at the ‘pig and whistle.’”

“as many as you please,” said humphrey, cheerfully. “but, in the meantime, we will do your carolling for you. i’ll trouble you for the lute, and—yes, you may as well spare your hat, too!”

laughing at the placid way in which the minstrel fell asleep on his stony bed, humphrey tucked the lute under his arm, clapped the felt hat on to gabriel’s bare head and hurried down the street.

“we will pass the guard on magdalen bridge as minstrels on our way to perform at cowley. do you by chance know any carols?”

“i know one,” said gabriel, beginning to hum the air of the bosbury carol.

“that will do. i know the tune, and will catch up the words of the chorus, and, with the lute to twang an accompaniment, we shall make a brave show. sandy, you will pick up any money that the good christians throw to us.”

“but sir, i see the watchman coming,” said sandy, apprehensively; “for heaven’s sake, let us hide in yon archway.”

“nay; no skulking,” said humphrey, “let us put a bold face on it, and say we have come to sing.”

so saying, he turned in at the gateway of merton, cheerfully twanging his lute.

the porter encountered them with a face of astonishment.

“now then, you fellows, what are you about? don’t you know that his majesty the king visits the queen’s apartments?”

“why, to be sure, master,” said humphrey, assuming the dialect of a countryman. “and we have orders to sing in the quad. you’ll not be denying us poor folk our chance of earning a groat in these cruel hard times.”

“well, well,” said the porter, good-humouredly, “christmas is christmas, and as you say, the times are hard. but see there’s no brawling or drinking or unseemly noise.”

“master we be the most mannerley minstrels in the shire,” said humphrey, touching his hat obsequiously as he passed on. “and that be true as the gospel.”

“this will stand us in good stead when we get to the bridge by-and-by,” he added, in a low voice. “let us cross to yonder window above the archway, the lights are brightest there, and doubtless the queen holds her christmas festivities within.”

gabriel, feeling after his long imprisonment in the castle like one in a dream, fearing every minute lest he should wake and find this strange adventure unreal, crossed the snowy quad, and at a nod from his companion began to sing the bosbury carol, humphrey cleverly putting in an effective accompaniment on the lute. out into the still frosty air rang the quaint old words, and feverish excitement gave strength to the voice of the half-starved prisoner.

when we were all, through adam’s fall,

once judged for to die;

and from all mirth brought to the earth,

to dwell in misery;

god pitied then his creature man,

in scripture as you may see,

and promised that a woman’s seed

should come for to make us free.

oh! praise the lord with one accord,

all you that present be;

for christ, god’s son, has brought pardon,

all for to make us free.

as he sang he noticed the shadows of those within the room moving fantastically on the ceiling, and when sandy in a startlingly sweet treble caught up the air of the refrain, the figure of a lady approached the window and looked forth. the light gleamed on her bare white shoulders, and on the pearl necklace about her slender throat. gabriel instantly recognised the queen, and for a minute scarcely wondered at the thraldom in which she contrived to hold her husband, so radiantly beautiful was her face, so full of charm and vivacity her whole bearing. she turned her head now and imperiously beckoned to some one within.

gabriel, still with the strangest sense of unreality, sang another verse, half-fancying himself once more in the snowy garden at hereford, half expecting to catch sight of brave sir john eliot’s snow effigy.

he thought no scorn for to be born

of a birth both low and small;

betwixt ox and ass in a crib he was

laid poorly in a stall;

to the shepherds in fold the thing was told,

in luke as you may see,

who sang glory to the lord on high

that did come for to make us free.

as once again the chorus rang out, he saw the king join his consort at the window, and, watching the two, could not but reflect how amiable a gentleman his majesty might have been had he not been fated to fill a position wholly unfitted for him. but then his face grew stern, for back into his mind there came a memory of the long, long list of grievous acts of tyranny and injustice for which the king was responsible; and he thought of eliot done to death in prison, of hampden laying down his life in the struggle to free the country, and of falkland, contemned and misjudged by all, striving in vain to make peace, and dying broken-hearted in the saddest isolation.

haunted most of all by this memory of falkland, he stumbled somehow into the final verse of the carol.

and thus in death yielded up his breath,

saying, consecrated, just,

all this was done by christ, god’s son,

to bring men’s souls to rest.

therefore you all, both great and small,

that here now present be,

serve him always, with diligent praise,

the lord god that made us free.

in the chorus one of the courtiers at a sign from the queen opened the window and threw down a few coins to the minstrels, after which their majesties withdrew. sandy groped in the snow for the money, humphrey neal courteously raised his hat, but gabriel stood motionless, gazing intently up at the brightly-lighted windows.

the weird shadows moving to and fro on the ceiling looked to his fancy like the nodding plumes on a funeral-car, and he shivered as he heard the laughter and merriment of those within, for it sounded to him as hollow and mirthless as the wintry wind which sighed and moaned through the archway below.

just in that fashion had the wind raged and moaned when his majesty had entered westminster hall nearly two years before on his rash attempt to arrest the five members.

“what are you staring at?” said humphrey neal, astonished at the expression on his companion’s face. “we had better hasten on.”

gabriel made no reply, but with one lingering look at those strange funereal shadows on the ceiling, he turned away, following his companions across the quiet quad and out into the street.

he had looked his last on the king.