That occurred but three days before, and the active Governor of Gloucester having hastened on to Staunton, was now contemplating a descent upon Monmouth. There was one who had pressed him to this haste, having also counselled him to attempt the capture of the town. This, the man by his side. But a woman, too, had used influence to the same end. Before sallying forth from Gloucester, for Beachley, a girl--a beautiful girl--had all but knelt at his feet, entreating him to take Monmouth. Nor did she make any secret of why she wished this. For it was Vaga Powell, believing that in Monmouth Castle there was a man confined, whose freedom was dear to her as her own. But she feared also for his life, for it had come to that now. The _lex talionis_ was in full, fierce activity, and prisoners of war might be butchered in cold blood, or sent abroad, and sold into slavery--as many were! Luckily for the young lady, her intercession with Massey was made at the right time, he himself eagerly wishing the very thing she wanted. Ever since becoming Governor of Gloucester, Monmouth had been a sharp thorn in his side, compared with which Lydney was but a thistle. And now, having laid the latter low--as it were, plucked it up by the roots--he meant dealing in like manner with the former. To capture the saucy little city of the Wye would be a _coup_, worth a whole year's campaigning. With it under his control, soon would cease to be heard that cry hitherto resonant throughout South Wales, "For the King!" To still the hated shibboleth--alike hated by both--he and Sir Richard Walwyn were now by the Buckstone, with eyes bent upon Monmouth. CHAPTER FORTY TWO. A RECONNAISSANCE. Instead of viewing the rural scenery, the two colonels had come there to make a reconnaissance. The town itself, its fortified _enceinte_, the gates piercing it, and the roads around, were the objects to which their glances were given. And, for a time, all their attention was engrossed by them, neither speaking a word. At length Massey, having made survey of them through the telescope, handed it to the knight, saying,-- "So you think there's a chance of our taking the place?" Sir Richard but ran the glass around hastily. He had been up there before, and more carefully reconnoitred, their chief object being to ascertain the strength of the garrison. "Yes, your Excellency," he rejoined, "a chance, and something more, if Kyrle prove true; or rather should I say, traitor. And," he added, with a significant smile, "I think we can trust him to do that." "As it wouldn't be the first time for him, no doubt we can. He has twice turned coat already. And's no doubt itching to give it another shift, if he can but see the way without getting it torn from his back. Marston Moor has had its effect on him, too, I suppose."