The next day was quiet in Carlisle, and the only news that came into the Castle was that the Duke of Cumberland still lay at Hesket, awaiting the implements of siege that were slow in reaching him; but the day after he brought his men into the city, and invested the town as closely as his lack of artillery allowed. It was a mistaken move on his part, as the shrewdest of his advisers pointed out to him; but the Duke had answered all wiser counsels with the blunt assurance that he had time to stay and butcher a few rebels here in Carlisle by way of whetting his appetite for the pleasant shambles to come afterwards in Scotland. And those few who were English among his following were aghast at the licence Cumberland allowed himself in speaking of enemies, misguided to their view, but brave and honourable men, content to face long odds. And again there was quiet within the Castle. Two days passed, and still the Duke was waiting for the artillery that was forcing its way painfully through roads ankle-deep in mud. Rupert, for his part, was entirely at home with the work asked of him. He was defending walls besieged, and nothing in the world was happening, as at Windyhough; but his task was easier here, because he had men to share the hardship with him, because he did not need, day by day, to fight single-handed against the sleep that had kept him company in Lancashire. Hamilton, the Governor, and Colonel Towneley--seasoned men both--were astonished by the toughness and knowledge of defence shown by this lean-bodied lad whose energy seemed tireless. And then they learned from one of the Lancashire volunteers how he had kept Windyhough for the King, and they told each other that it was hard on the lad to have to face a second siege so soon. “There’s one who should ride far,” said Towneley to the Governor once, after Rupert had got up from dining with them to take his post. “Yes,” said Hamilton, with tired mockery of the faith he held--“as far as the stars, Towneley--on a winged horse--like the Prince, God bless him! like Oliphant of Muirhouse--like all the dreamers who think this world well lost for loyalty.” “Well, we’re fools of the same breed,” put in the other dryly. “No need to laugh at your own regiment.” “Oh, I don’t laugh! I’m tired--just tired, Towneley. I tell you, this business of holding Carlisle, while you others were facing the stark brunt of it, has made me peevish. I shall be an old woman if Cumberland’s artillery does not reach him soon.” Towneley filled his glass afresh, held it up to the light, glanced across at the Governor with clear, unhurried comradeship. “I know, Hamilton--I know. I’ve felt the same--since Derby. The Prince has felt it. The Highlanders have felt it.” “You were in the open,” growled Hamilton. “In retreat, and asking battle all the while--battle that did not come. And we were saddle-sore and wet, with an east wind blowing through us. You were snug in Carlisle here, Hamilton. I tell you so.”