"And now," said the canon, when Herebald and Bernulf had gone, "thou
mayest remain no longer here. It is too near the king, and moreover,
delay taketh thee not forward toward France. Since thou knowest not
what to do, Hugo, I will plan for thee. And first, thou must leave here
with me thy dog, Fleetfoot."
Hugo opened his mouth to object, seeing which the canon at once
continued, "Nay, do not speak. It must be done. Thee I can disguise and
thy man Humphrey I can disguise, but what disguise availeth for thy
dog? To take Fleetfoot is to endanger thy life unnecessarily. Shouldst
thou take him, even if thou didst win safely through, which is a very
doubtful thing, thou wouldst find him but an unwelcome encumbrance to
Lord De Aldithely. Leave the dog, therefore, with me, and I will care
for him."
Hugo reflected. Then he looked up into the canon's face, and he saw
that, though he might have a merry heart, he had also a determined
will. He yielded, therefore, and consented to leave Fleetfoot behind.
At this decision the canon smiled well satisfied, and Humphrey's face
also showed the relief he felt at being rid of the dog's company.
"And next," continued the canon, "I counsel thee to go no more through
the fens, for there will they seek for thee. Thou hast gone skulking
and hiding so far on thy course, and they that pursue thee will be too
dull to think that thou mayest change. The time is come for thee to
proceed boldly and on the highway. I will send thee first to Oundle,
which lieth southwest from hence, and with a token I will procure thee
safe lodging there. From thence I can do no more for thee till thou
come to St. Albans, twenty miles away from London. But from Oundle thou
must take thy course still southwest till thou come to the Watling
Street. Then follow that southeast down to St. Albans. And in this
jaunt Humphrey must lead, and thou must follow; for I shall make of
Humphrey a priest, and of thee a novice."
He ceased, and there was no reply to what he had said. Both Hugo and
Humphrey would have preferred to ride clad as they were, and to choose
their own route and stopping-places. But they were sensible of how much
they already owed the canon, and dangers were now so thick about them
that they feared to refuse to do as he bade them. Therefore they
permitted themselves to be properly robed, and took meekly the
instructions he gave them as to their speech and manner of behaviour.
"This I do not for thee only, but for my friend, Roger Aungerville, and
for the brave Lord De Aldithely," he said in parting from them. "Forget
not to call me to their minds when thou dost meet them, and say that I
be ever ready to serve them as best I may."
Hugo promised, and thanked the canon on the part of himself and
Humphrey for the cheer and aid they had received at his hands; and,
with a heavy heart, rode away behind the serving-man, who was now
turned into a priest. He thought not on the dangers of the way, but on
Fleetfoot, left at Peterborough.
"Fret not, dear lad," said Humphrey. "In the king's dungeon there would
be no room for Fleetfoot, and mayhap he would be put to death. Now is
he in good hands, even in the merry-hearted canon's hands, and no evil
will befall him. He hath such a care to please thine uncle and my lord
that he will look well to thy dog."
By nightfall the two were safely lodged at Oundle.
"Ye be safe," said the priest of the parish when he had received them.
"Here will no man seek for ye this night, and, on the morrow, ye shall
speed away. I may not suffer ye to tarry longer."
Meanwhile the unlucky bailiff had proceeded to Clipstone with the news
that Walter Skinner was fled, and no man knew what had become of him.
He had just delivered it and the king was still in his rage when De
Skirlaw and De Kellaw arrived. "Admit them," he gave order. "I will
hear what hath come to pass there. Mayhap the castle hath stolen away,
even as this prisoner hath done."
As De Skirlaw and De Kellaw entered, the king, scanning their faces,
read that they bore him no welcome news, and his rage broke out afresh.
"What land is this that I be king of?" he exclaimed. "A land of rebels
and disobedience. A land of dull skies and duller fortunes. What saw ye
that ye come before me with glum faces and serious looks? Speak, if ye
can. Is the castle gone?"
"Nay, Your Majesty," said De Skirlaw. "The castle we found, but--"
"Ye mean that the prisoner spake true," burst out the king, "and that
the young lord is escaped?"
"Yea," answered De Skirlaw. "No human being inhabiteth the castle. And
in the moat at the rear kites and eagles have fed."
"What mean ye? What hath chanced there?"
"Your Majesty, no man knoweth," was the answer.
"But there be only bones and armor in the dry moat, and no living thing
in the castle."
For a little the king stared straight before him. Then he said, "Bring
the rascal bailiff before me."
With haste the unhappy officer was brought.
"Wretch!" broke out the king. "Go find me the prisoner that thou hast
let escape thee. If thou find him not, thy life shall answer for it."
In great fear the bailiff retired from the royal presence, and the king
went on as if to himself: "Mayhap he knew what hath chanced. Mayhap he
knoweth now the whereabouts of the young lord."
As the bailiff reentered Newark he met again the courtier by the gate.
"What news, worthy bailiff?" he asked.
"Why, this," answered the bailiff, in despair. "The prisoner must be
found or my life is forfeit. And I know not where to look."
The courtier kept silence for a few moments. "The prisoner must not be
found," he thought, "or mayhap the young lord, Josceline De Aldithely,
will be undone; and for the friendship I do bear his father, this may
not be. But neither must the worthy bailiff die." Then he spoke.
"Worthy bailiff," he said, "what is done cannot be undone. The prisoner
is gone, no man knoweth whither. Thy only hope is in flight. And to
that, seeing thou art a worthy man, I will help thee. Go thou
apparently to seek for the prisoner, but flee for thy life, and tell me
not where. Thou knowest a place of safety, I warrant thee."
"Yea," replied the bailiff, after a little thought, "I know."
"Proceed, then, with thine helpers to the search for the prisoner;
contrive shortly to give them the slip, and thou art saved. I will do
what I can in baffling pursuit of thee. For this our king is, as thou
knowest, a tyrant who, though he greatly feareth death for himself,
doth not hesitate to measure it out to us his subjects. Therefore are
we bound to help each other. When thou canst protect another, do so;
and so farewell." Speaking in these general terms he not only gained
from the bailiff a belief in his own benevolence, but effectually
concealed from him the real reason of his helping him, which was to
protect, so far as possible, the young Josceline De Aldithely.
"It is well for a lad when his father hath many friends," mused the
courtier. "For then, even the malice and hatred of the king may be
foiled. I will now away to Clipstone and see what passeth there." And,
summoning two attendants, he set out.
Upon arriving, he found but a gloomy air about the place. The king's
rage was not yet spent and no man knew upon whom he would take occasion
to visit his displeasure. But the courtier who, in the guise of a
scullion, had himself set the prisoner free, moved calmly about, and
alone of all seemed to feel no anxiety. Toward nightfall the word was
whispered about that, on the morrow, the king would himself proceed
with a party to De Aldithely castle.
The morrow came and at an early hour there was everywhere bustle and
confusion, for all that the royal party would need for their brief
absence from Clipstone must be taken with them: food, dishes, bedding,
and servants.
At length all was ready and the train set out. It was a gloomy ride,
for the king's temper was not yet recovered and no man ventured to say
aught in his presence.
Leaving the baggage and servants far in the rear, the impatient king
with his attendants rode on and on until they came to Cawood castle
beyond Selby and but a few miles distant from De Aldithely castle. Here
the king stopped for the night, and the servants and baggage not having
yet come up, his temper was not improved by the lack of their service.
It was a great castle to which he had come, being one of the largest
and strongest in the north of England.
"And Cawood shall have no more for a neighbor the castle of De
Aldithely," said the king the next morning, when, after a somewhat
uncomfortable night owing to the late arrival of the servants, he rode
forth from its gate on his way to the home of the great and popular
baron.
Artisans from Selby who had been sent by the king's order, were already
on their way thither also. And these having risen very early and made
good speed, John found already arrived when he himself appeared. But no
one had ventured to set foot within the walls without the royal word.
As John drew near, he looked upon the castle in scowling silence. Still
in silence he rode to the edge of the moat and looked down. And there
he saw the armor and the bones as De Skirlaw had said. An attendant now
spoke to him, and he nodded his head in assent. At once three of the
artisans were hurried across the postern bridge and through the gate
with instructions to hasten to the front entrance and let down the
bridge and open the great gate for the king.
[Illustration: He rode to the edge of the moat and looked down]
Still speaking no word the monarch rode to the great gate, crossed the
bridge, and entered, and once within the outer bailey, looked about
him. He rode into the inner bailey, and, dismounting, began a personal
examination of the castle; and as he proceeded his frown grew blacker
and blacker, for everywhere he saw evidences of premeditated and
deliberate flight. The treasure chests were empty, and everything of
value removed.
At last he spoke. "What hath chanced here I know not," he said. "But
this I know, these traitor walls shall stand no longer. Bid the
artisans in to begin their destruction." Then turning to De Skirlaw he
added: "Go thou to the moat and examine the armor. See, if thou canst,
to what troop it belongeth."
But before De Skirlaw could execute this commission there appeared upon
the scene two men-at-arms from Hubert le Falconer, in search of certain
of their companions, and they were at once brought before the king. To
him they related how, for a certain sum, a certain knight in the
service of the king had hired them to assist him in entering the
castle, through the treachery of one Robert Sadler, and in carrying off
the young lord, Josceline De Aldithely, to the direct custody of the
king.
"And this knight was--" interrupted John.
"Sir Thomas De Lany," said the man-at-arms.
"Came thy companions to the castle here?" demanded the king.
"Yea, Your Majesty, some ten days now agone. My master having need of
them hath sent us to call them to him again."
"It is a call they will not answer," said John. "Nor will the brave
knight, Sir Thomas De Lany, answer to my call. De Kirkham, take these
men-at-arms to view the moat by the postern. Now know we who sleep
there. Could we but know the whereabouts of the wife of this traitor,
De Aldithely, and the whereabouts of his son, we were better satisfied.
And now depart we from this place. Raze the walls. Let not one stone
remain upon another.
"And thou, De Skirlaw, and thou, De Kellaw, haste ye both to Newark and
see if the rascal bailiff hath yet found the prisoner. He can speak if
he will, and he must be found."
With feigned zeal the two set out, but, once beyond the view of the
king, their fiery pace lagged to a slow one as they rode toward Selby,
where they were determined to halt for a night's rest. "I care not if
the prisoner be not found," said De Kellaw. "I be tired of this
tyranny; this imprisoning and slaying of children taken as hostages
from their fathers; this razing of castles. John will not be king
forever, and it behooveth us not to make ourselves odious to all men by
helping him to his desires too much. I haste not on this enterprise,
and so I tell thee."
"Nor I neither," declared De Skirlaw.
The king now set out on his return to Cawood, from whence, on the
morrow, he would go on to Clipstone again.
"Yea, and I will go even to Newark," he said to himself as he rode
along. "I will be at hand to put heart into this search, which seemeth
to lag. But have the prisoner I will; and when I have found him, I will
open his mouth for him to some purpose."