Till the set of sun and the dusk of the evening the spy pursued the
search, now stumbling over a tree root, now catching his foot in a
straggling vine, and every now and then sorely struck in the face by
the underbrush through which he pushed his way. But, although he was
once very near the concealed horses and hound, he found nothing to
reward him. The return to the little vale was even more tiresome than
the journey from it had been. No moon would shine for an hour, and it
was quite dark when he once more reached the oak in which Hugo and
Humphrey had stayed all day, but from which they had a few moments
before descended.
In climbing the tree, after setting Walter Skinner's horse loose,
Humphrey had noticed a hollow in one of the lower branches.
"Perchance," he said, "a hedgehog may lodge therein. Knowest thou the
ways of hedgehogs?"
"Nay," returned Hugo, indifferently.
"The lad hath lost heart," said Humphrey to himself, "and all because
of the words of this little snipe of a king's man and the slowness of
the journey. I will not seem to see it." Then he continued as if Hugo
had displayed the greatest interest: "I will tell thee, then, that
hedgehogs have many ways. I warrant thee this king's man knoweth naught
of them, any more than he knoweth the wood. Had he been some men, we
had been caught ere now. I fear him not overmuch. For do but see how he
is puffed up with undue pride and importance. And let me tell thee that
undue pride and importance and good sense dwell not in the same skull.
We shall therefore have the better of him."
Hugo made no reply, and Humphrey continued cheerfully: "A hedgehog will
find a hollow in a tree, and there he will bide, sleeping all day. At
night he will come forth. But first he must reach the ground. And this
he will do by rolling into a ball and dropping on the ends of his
spines. If the ground is beneath him, no harm is done. If this king's
man should be beneath him, I think not that he would cry out that
Fortune was with him when the spines of the hedgehog stuck into him."
"And how would the king's man be beneath him?" asked Hugo, dully.
"If the hedgehog be in the hollow of that low branch," answered
Humphrey, "and if the king's man should stand under at such time as the
hedgehog was ready to drop, then he would be beneath him."
"Yea," observed Hugo. "Many things might come to pass, if thou couldst
make all the plans."
Humphrey did not hear the sarcasm in Hugo's tones. He heard only what
he was pleased to take as a compliment to his own abilities. "Why, I
believe thou art right," he answered. "Were I to make the plans, some
that are now at the top would be at the bottom. Thou hast well said.
But come. It grows dark. Let us go down ere the king's man come back on
his way to the vale."
Slowly they made their way down. "This perching on trees all day is fit
to make an old man of a boy," said Humphrey, as he stepped clumsily
about on his half-numbed feet.
"Sh!" said Hugo.
Humphrey instantly stood still in the darkness and listened. Weary and
slow steps were approaching. They came nearer, and directly under the
oak they ceased, for the spy, his pompous manner quite gone, had
stopped to rest a little. And now a rustling in the branches above was
heard. Eagerly the spy looked up and strained his eyes to see.
"Josceline! son of Lord De Aldithely!" he called, "I arrest thee in the
king's name. Thou darest not oppose me. Yield thyself, and come down!"
And just then the hedgehog which Humphrey had surmised might be in the
hollow, moved a little farther along on the branch, rustling the leaves
as he did so. In the darkness the face of the spy was still turned
upward. He had forgotten that he was alone and unaided. And he thought
only of getting hold of the boy he sought.
"Come down!" he repeated. "Come down, I say! Make no dallying!"
And then the hedgehog rolled himself into a ball and came down plump
into the face of Walter Skinner.
"Ugh! what have we here?" sputtered the spy, starting back.
Hugo and Humphrey did not wait for him to discover, but stepping softly
away they went to the thicket, where the hungry animals gave them a
warm welcome, and where they thoroughly enjoyed the first meal they had
had since morning. Their supper eaten, Humphrey untied horses and
hound, to lead them to water.
"Thou wilt be caught," objected Hugo, nervously.
"Not I," returned Humphrey, easily. "I fear not the spy to-night. If he
heareth aught, he will think another hedgehog about to drop upon him.
Come thou with me and see."
Hugo obediently rose from the couch of boughs where he had thrown
himself, and took the thong of willow from Humphrey's hand to lead
Fleetfoot. The serving-man was right. So far as Walter Skinner was
concerned they had no more to fear that night. His face was lacerated;
and by the time Hugo and Humphrey started from the thicket he had
discovered the loss of his horse. It had been better for him if his
drinking-horn, from which he now took copious draughts, had been lost
also.
"The kind of fortune that is with him, I should not wish to be with
me," observed Humphrey, when they had returned safely to the thicket.
"I will now to sleep and see what sort of a dream cometh."
Much cheered in spirit, Hugo also lay down to sleep. His courage came
back, and he felt that let the journey take as long as it would he was
equal to it.
The moon had now risen, and by its light Richard Wood, the other spy,
and his borrowed men-at-arms came riding through one of the glades of
the forest southward to the vale. Richard Wood had not the overweening
vanity of Walter Skinner; he had not taken his borrowed men-at-arms
into his confidence concerning the king's plans in order to make it
appear that he stood high in counsel; neither had he revealed the name
of the lad they sought. The men-at-arms had, therefore, all three
remained with him, and were as eager as he on the chase. They were
pushing on now to the vale to camp for the night, because they could
find there both grass and water. And, in the same spot where Walter
Skinner had slept before, they came upon a figure reclining in full
sight in the moonlight.
"There lieth one of them," said a man-at-arms, "but I see not the
other."
"Thou mayest be sure the other is not far off," observed the second.
"Thou shalt see how quickly I will awake him out of sleep," cried the
third, as he spurred his horse toward him and pricked him sharply with
the point of his lance.
"Ugh!" grunted the half-drunken Walter Skinner. "But I have had enough
of hedgehogs for one night." And he sat up sleepily.
"And is it thou, Walter Skinner?" exclaimed Richard Wood.
"Why, who should it be?" answered Walter Skinner, peevishly.
"Thou art a brave pursuer!" said Richard Wood. "Where be thy men-at-arms?
and where is thy horse?"
"My men-at-arms are returned to their master," replied Walter Skinner,
while those of Richard Wood drew near to learn the whereabouts of their
companions. "As for my horse, I wot not what is become of him."
"And wherefore did thy men-at-arms play thee false?" demanded Richard
Wood.
"Softly!" replied Walter Skinner, his small, cracked voice more cracked
than usual. "Ask me not so many questions if thou wouldst not see me
dead before thee."
Richard Wood regarded him sternly. "Thou must be moonstruck," he said
at length. "When ever heard any one of a man dying of the questions
asked of him?"
"Thou mistakest my meaning," returned Walter Skinner, a trace of his
pomposity returning. "Thou askest me questions. If I answer thee false,
I lie. If I answer thee true, I die. And truly, death were not much
worse than this lacerated face of mine."
"Why, how now!" demanded Richard Wood. "How camest thy face lacerated?"
"One Master Hedgehog of this forest hath paid me his attentions too
closely."
For a moment Richard Wood was silent. Then he said: "Answer me truly. It
behooveth me to know the truth in this matter. Why did thy men-at-arms
leave thee?"
"I did but let fall the king's purpose toward the young lord, and name
his father, De Aldithely, and they fell off from me as I had been
myself a murderer. Bade me uphold their lying speech that I had no need
of their services on pain of death, and so left me."
And now one of the men-at-arms spoke. "We be not knaves," he said. "We
had not thought to lead the youth to death, but to honorable captivity
for a brief while. Nor did we know the lad ye seek was son to De
Aldithely. Wherefore we also leave ye, and if ye say why, your lives
shall answer for it. We have no mind to be marks for the king's
vengeance. He that would crush the Archdeacon of Norwich with a cope of
lead will have no mercy on a man-at-arms that thwarted him. Wherefore,
say why we left ye, if ye think best." And, riding a little way off,
all three encamped by themselves for the night.
"It seemeth that the best way to earn hatred and contempt is to serve
this King John," remarked Richard Wood, thoughtfully.
"Ay, and the attention of hedgehogs also," returned Walter Skinner,
thickly. "And the loss of horse and food, and the loss of the quarry
also, if we strike not the trail again. And though we have not the
service of the men-at-arms, be sure we shall pay for it as if we had it
to their master. I would I had a troop of mercenaries to rent out. It
were easier than such scouring of the country as this. Moreover we do
exceed our office. The king said not to me, 'Walter Skinner, scour the
country.' Nay, the king said naught to me on the matter. 'Twas his
favorite, Sir Thomas De Lany, that bade me watch the castle from the
tree; and there might I be now in comfort, if this hare-brained youth
had not run away. He should have stayed at the castle till the coming
of Robert Sadler and the troop. My face had not been thus lacerated had
the youth known his duty and done it."
"Why, how makest thou all this?" demanded Richard Wood, contemptuously.
"The king careth not whose hand delivereth the youth, so that he be
delivered. That we have not already caught him is the fault of thyself
alone. Hadst thou but held thy tongue, we had had with us to-night six
men-at-arms, and had, erelong, run down the game. In the morning I go
to Hubert le Falconer and hire from him six more--three for thee, and
three for me. Then do thou be silent as to the king's purpose, and this
mischief of thy making may be repaired. Thou mayest look as if thou
wert bursting with wisdom, if it please thee, but see that thou give no
enlightening word to thy followers."
"Ay, thou mayest lay the burden of all mishaps on me," returned Walter
Skinner, pettishly. "But I promise not that I will speak no word, if it
seemeth to me best to speak. It is not every one in the king's employ.
Not every one is out scouring the country for a lord's son. And if one
may not speak of his honors, why hath he them?"
"Honors!" exclaimed Richard Wood, with contempt. "There be few would
call such work as thine an honor. To skulk, to spy, to trap another to
his destruction, why, that is what most call knaves' work, and he who
doth it is despised. Yea, even though he do it for a king."
"Thy loss doth set but sourly on thy stomach, Richard Wood," said
Walter Skinner, stubbornly. "It is an honor to serve the king. Ay, even
though he be a bad one like this. And, I say, if one is not to speak of
honors, why hath he them?"
"For other people to see, varlet. What others _see_ of thy
_honors_, as thou callest them, they can mayhap endure. But when
thou pratest of thy honors, thou dost but enrage them. Wilt thou give
me thy word to be silent?"
"Nay, that will I not," retorted Walter Skinner. "I be as good a man as
thou, and not a bear in leading. When I will to speak, I speak; whether
it be of the king's matters or my own."
"Thou hast said," returned Richard Wood, rising. "In the morning I hire
three men-at-arms from Hubert le Falconer for myself. Pursue thou the
chase as seemeth thee best. We hunt no more in company."
With the first morning light the men-at-arms mounted their horses
and rode toward Doncaster, Richard Wood rode north to seek his needed
men-at-arms from Hubert le Falconer, and only Walter Skinner was left
horseless and breakfastless in the vale. He had no mind to remain
there in that condition, and so betook himself to the nearest priory,
confident that, in the king's name, he could there procure both food
and a horse, and perhaps a leech to ease his wounded face.
Hugo and Humphrey were also early astir, the serving-man performing his
morning tasks with such a particularly cheerful air that Hugo smiled
and inquired, "Hadst thou a dream last night?"
"Ay," answered Humphrey, in triumph. "I say not with that little spy,
'Aha, Fortune! thou art with me,' and then go out to meet a hedgehog.
But this I say, that I did dream of bees and of following them, which
betokeneth gain or profit. And therefore go we not toward Doncaster."
"Why not toward Doncaster down this Brockadale?" asked Hugo.
"The vale is well enough," replied Humphrey, "but it extendeth only two
miles after all. We must make haste to-day. I do remember that two
spies did pursue us at the beginning. It may be that the other hath
neither lost his horse nor met a hedgehog to discourage him. And,
moreover, what is to hinder him from having three men-at-arms to his
help like his fellow? Nay, Hugo, we go not through the vale, but make
we what haste we may through short cuts and little used paths."
"And whither do we go?" asked Hugo.
"I will tell thee that we seek the marshy Isle of Axholme to the east
of the river Don. There will be room therein for us to hide away, and
there no king's men will look for us moreover."
"Why?" asked Hugo.
"Why, lad?" repeated Humphrey. "Why, because they will not. Will a
king's man trust himself in such a boggy place? Nay. Moreover, I fell
in with this one that hath so lately followed us at Ferrybridge, which
is a sure sign that we should meet the other at Doncaster."
"But--" began Hugo.
"I tell thee," interrupted Humphrey, "I did dream of bees and of
following them. We go straight to this Isle of Axholme. Vex me no
more."
Hugo opened his mouth to remonstrate still further, but, happening to
remember his determination not to oppose Humphrey except through
necessity, he closed it again. Seeing which, Humphrey regarded him
approvingly, and even went to the length of expressing his approbation
in words.
"Thou art learning to keep thyself under," he said. "Thou hast but just
opened thy mouth to speak and shut it again with thy words unsaid. When
one hath no knack at dreams to help him on, the best thing for him is
the power to shut his mouth. An open mouth maketh naught but trouble.
Thou didst wish to see more of the vale, and so thou shalt. Thou shalt
see so much of it as thou canst while the horses and hound drink their
fill before starting."