Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England Crown and Sceptre A West Country Story By George Manville Fenn Illustrations by J Nash Published by Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London. Crown and Sceptre, a West Country Story, by George Manville Fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ I groaned a bit when I saw that this story was about the Civil War in England, in the mid-seventeenth century. But I soon realised that it was a very good story, told in the tension-laden Fenn style. We start off in the Devon coombes (valleys near the sea) with two families that are close friends. The Markhams live at The Hall, while the Forresters live at The Manor. There are two teenage boys: Scarlett Markham and Fred Forrester. The boys come upon secret passages and secret chambers in the Hall, and also some other long-forgotten shafts and wells leading to the outside. Then came the Civil War, in which the Roundheads fought for a country subservient to Parliament, while the Cavaliers fought for the King. The Markhams and their household became Cavaliers, while the Forresters were Roundheads. Thus the two families became, at least in theory, deadly enemies. Needless to say, it didn't always work out exactly like that, and the boys at least, now young officers, and the family retainers, sometimes helped one another in ways the fathers would not approve of. The manor is burnt down, and Sir Godfrey Markham very seriously wounded. It is only by Scarlett's knowledge of the secret passages that he is saved. We will not spoil the rest of the story for you by telling you the rest of it, but we assure you that it very well written, and did not at all merit my initial groans. Another very good read, or listen. ________________________________________________________________________ CROWN AND SCEPTRE, A WEST COUNTRY STORY, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. CHAPTER ONE. IN THE WEST COUNTREE. "Derry down, derry down, derry down!" A cheery voice rolling out the chorus of an old west-country ditty. Then there was a run of a few yards, a sudden stoppage, and a round, red missile was thrown with considerable force after a blackcock, which rose on whirring wings from among the heather, his violet-black plumage glistening in the autumn sun, as he skimmed over the moor, and disappeared down the side of a hollow coombe. "Missed him," said the thrower, thrusting his hand into his pocket, and bringing out a similar object to that which he had used as a missile, but putting it to a far different purpose; for he raised it to his mouth, drew back his red lips, and with one sharp crunch drove two rows of white teeth through the ruddy skin, cut out a great circular piece of apple, spat it out, and threw the rest away.