An hour went by and still old Bartlemy did not come; an hour of silence
broken only by occasional whispers between Hugo and Humphrey.
Then the old man softly opened the door and stood smiling before them.
"Thou didst think me false, is it not so?" he said, addressing Humphrey
and casting an affectionate glance as he did so on the small mole near
the end of the Saxon's nose.
Great as was his anxiety, Hugo could but laugh to see how the serving-man
was placed before himself, and all on account of an unfortunate
blemish on his countenance. And his enjoyment was heightened by the
embarrassment and half-concealed irritation it occasioned Humphrey.
But old Bartlemy paid no attention to Hugo and his merry mood. He
proceeded with despatch to set out the morning meal from the hidden
cupboard. "Eat well and heartily," he exhorted both his guests; "for so
shall ye be able to set your enemies at defiance. A full stomach giveth
a man courage and taketh him through many dangers. But why," he
continued, addressing Humphrey solicitously, "why shouldest thou have
many dangers? Why dost thou not let the young lord ride forth alone?"
Humphrey's answer was a look so full of indignation that the old man
ventured to say nothing more, except, "I see that thou art not to be
persuaded, and I will e'en help ye both."
So saying, he went outside and brought in a bundle or pack which he
had, on his return to the hut, secreted in a convenient hiding-place.
"I have been to a spot I wot of," he began, "and there did I borrow
this raiment. I did borrow it, I say, and ye must put it on. When ye
have no further need of it, then I will return it to its owner."
[Illustration: Bartlemy Bore Garments for Disguise]
Humphrey gazed at him in astonishment. At last he said, "Thou knowest
that we journey hence this morn and shall see thee no more. What
meanest thou?"
"Why, this," was the response. "I go with thee."
"Thou goest with me!" repeated Humphrey.
"Ay," was the stubborn answer. "Thinkest thou I will lightly part with
him who is decreed to make my fortune? Thou art the man the
fortune-teller spake to me of. 'Cleave to him that hath a mole near the
end of his nose,' saith the fortune-teller, and I will of a surety do
so. But tell me truly, should the young lord be captured, would thy
ability to make my fortune be diminished?"
"Yea, verily," answered Humphrey, positively. "Were my dear lad
captured, I could do nothing for thee."
"Thou needst say no more," said the old man, for the first time that
morning looking full at Hugo. "He seemeth a good lad. I will protect
him also with my life, if need be. For what will a man not do if he may
thereby escape the marring of his fortune?"
Old Bartlemy now ceased speaking and devoted all his energies to
hastily undoing the bundle he had brought in, and sorting out a portion
of what it contained.
"What hast thou there?" asked Humphrey, contemptuously, as he pointed
to a woman's robe, tunic, and hood of green. "Here be no fine ladies."
"Nay, speak not so fast," replied old Bartlemy, stubbornly. "Thy young
lord will don these things, and then shalt thou see a fair lady on a
journey bent."
Hugo flushed. "I wear no woman's dress," he said with determination.
"Why, how now?" demanded old Bartlemy. "Art thou better than Longchamp,
bishop of Ely? When he did flee he fled as a woman, and in a green
tunic and hood, moreover. When thou art as old as thou now art young,
thou wilt welcome the means that helpeth thee safely on." The old man's
manner was so changed from that of the night before, and he displayed
so much energy, foresight, and knowledge, that Hugo and Humphrey looked
at each other in wonder. He was still old, but he was no longer senile.
"Knowest thou not," he continued, "that the king's men look for thee
either as the young lord or as the false priest's novice? Dally no
longer, but put on this woman's garb."
"Yea, lad," counselled Humphrey, "put it on. It will suit thee better
than the king's dungeon."
Thus urged, Hugo obeyed, and presently was stepping about the hut most
discontentedly in the guise of a woman. "Stride not so manfully or we
be undone," cried old Bartlemy. "Canst thou not mince thy gait? There!
That hath a more seemly look."
The pack he had brought in was very large, and from it he now took the
garments and armor of an esquire, which he handed to Humphrey. "When
thou shalt don these," he said, "it will come to pass that thou hast
been sent to bring thy young lady safe to London town."
With alacrity Humphrey tossed aside his priest's robe and clad himself
in what old Bartlemy offered him. "Now may I forget my _pax vobiscum_
and no harm be done," he exclaimed joyfully.
Hugo could but smile at the pride and pleasure of Humphrey's manner as
he arrayed himself. "Ah, my good Humphrey!" he cried; "I have found
thee out. Thou wouldst be an esquire, even as I would be a knight."
Humphrey sighed. "Yea, lad," he confessed, "but I am but a Saxon
serving-man."
Like a hawk the little old man was watching both. "And I have found
thee out," he said, turning to Hugo. "The mole on his nose doth signify
the good fortune thou wilt bring him, even as it signifieth what he
will do for me. Be sure, gentle lady, I shall serve thee well."
Hugo laughed and, in his character of lady, inclined his head
courteously.
Humphrey, who could not for a moment forget the business in hand,
ignored this pleasantry and inquired curtly: "But how goest thou with
us, Bartlemy? Will not the men who were here last night know thee?"
"Nay, verily," replied Bartlemy. "I have a friend to my counsel that
they know not of. 'Tis he who did lend these disguises, and did
instruct me, moreover, in many matters. He did bid me overcome the
young lord's objections to wearing woman's dress by naming Longchamp
and his green tunic and hood. And many other matters he hath helped me
to, even the whole conduct of the journey, as thou shalt presently
see." With one last look at Humphrey's nose he backed out of the hut
and made off in a surprisingly agile manner for one of his age.
"Now a plague upon his foolishness!" exclaimed Humphrey. "I had all but
forgotten my nose, but he will be ever bringing it to my mind. Yet, if
the mole on it take us safely through London, I complain not. And I do
hope he forget not his instructions and become again upon our hands the
witless old man of last night." He advanced to the door and glanced
out. "But here come two horses and a mule," he continued. "Whose they
be, I know not, nor what hath been done with ours."
Hugo at this also looked out the door. "In size and in gait these
horses be ours," he said.
"Yea, lad; but what should be thy black is a rusty brown with a star in
his forehead and one white foot. And what should be my gray is that
same rusty brown with two white feet and a patch on his side. And the
tails of both be bobbed, and the manes cropped, and the saddles and
housings be different. This is more of Bartlemy's 'friend to his
counsel,' perchance. And I hope his friend be not the Evil One." He
paused a moment. "Seest thou the old woman on the mule that leadeth the
horses?" he continued.
"That is Bartlemy," replied Hugo.
"Ay," agreed Humphrey. "But we had not known it had we not been made
ready for mysteries. He looketh like an ancient crone, and will be thy
old nurse, no doubt, going with thee on thy journey. Well, they be wise
men that would know the five of us."
"Five?" questioned Hugo.
"Ay, lad. Thou and Bartlemy and I and the two horses. Perchance the
mule is honest and what he seemeth to be."
Bartlemy, having tied the animals, now came up to the door of the hut
in great exultation. "What thinkest thou of these strange horses,
Humphrey?" he asked.
"I do think they lack their tails," answered Humphrey, gravely, "which
is a sad lack in summer."
The old man grinned. "And what more thinkest thou?" he asked.
"I do think they have need of manes also," was the reply.
With an air of pride the old man, clad in his woman's dress, consisting
of a long, loose, blue robe surmounted by a long, red head-rail which
reached to his knees, walked back to the horses. "Come hither," he said
to Humphrey. "It were not well to cut off what one may need before it
grow again. Seest thou how only the outside of the tail is cut so as to
bush out over what is braided fine in many strands and caught up
cunningly beneath? And come hither. Seest thou how the mane is
cunningly looped and gummed, so that it seemeth to be short, when a dip
in the stream will make it long again? And this brown is but a stain,
and the white patches a bleach that will last but till the horse sheds
again."
"This is the work of thy friend?" inquired Humphrey, gravely.
"Yea," answered old Bartlemy, jubilantly.
"And he is an honest man?"
Old Bartlemy frowned. "He is my friend. And he hath served thee well,
if he hath kept thee and the lad from the hands of the king. Ask no
more. He had not done so much, but that I did tell him it was to make
my fortune. And now mount, my esquire! mount, my gentle lady! and I,
thy nurse, will mount. And we will all away to London town."
"By which road?" asked Humphrey, reining in his stained and bleached
horse.
"By the Watling Street," was the confident answer.
Humphrey seemed dissatisfied. Seeing which the old man said: "Why, we
must e'en go by the Watling Street or the Ermine Street, since we have
the young lady here in charge. Such is the custom of travellers to go
by one or the other."
"I like not the Watling Street," objected Humphrey.
"Didst hear the men at the door of my hut?" asked old Bartlemy,
earnestly.
"Yea," replied Humphrey, briefly.
"Didst note how he who watcheth for us on the Watling Street did tell
his plans in a voice that all might hear?"
"Yea."
"Therefore I go by the Watling Street and not by the Ermine Street,"
said old Bartlemy, with determination. "He that hath so little
discretion that he telleth his plans in the ears of all who may listen
is less to be feared than he that sayeth little. He that watcheth for
us on the Ermine Street hath keen eyes and a silent tongue. Therefore
go we by the Watling Street and, moreover, the friend to my counsel
hath bid me so to do. I warrant thee more than one priest will be
stopped there, while the esquire and the young lady and the nurse
escape notice."
"Mayhap thou art right," agreed Humphrey, after some reflection.
Bartlemy did not wait to answer, but, giving his mule a slap with the
reins, set forward, and in a moment all three were crossing the glade,
whence they followed the same bridle-path by which Hugo and Humphrey
had come the day before, and so gained the Watling Street. Many people
were upon it, and Bartlemy, following the instructions of him who had
planned for him, managed to ride near enough to a merchant's party to
be mistaken as members of it by an unthinking observer.
In his garb of esquire Humphrey was more at home than in that of the
priest, and he looked boldly about him. "Here be a strange thing, lad,"
he said. "As we did come upon this road I did see a priest with his
novice pass by. Seest thou that other near at hand? And looking back I
see yet another. He that watcheth for us is like to have his hands
full."
"Many priests be abroad," replied Hugo, with a smile. "It was to that
the Canon Thurstan trusted when he sent us forth."
"He should, then, not have sent us to that rascally one at Oundle,"
growled Humphrey. "Speak not o'er much with the lady," cautioned old
Bartlemy, riding up. "It is not seemly. Let her stay by me, her nurse.
So hath the friend to my counsel instructed me."
At once Hugo fell back, reining his horse alongside the mule and a half
pace in advance; whereat old Bartlemy smiled in approbation.
"Where go we in London?" asked Hugo, curiously.
"Thou shalt see in good time," answered Bartlemy. "It may be one place,
it may be another. I can tell when we have passed him who watcheth for
us. I know many places."
The old man, turning his face away, Hugo saw that he did not wish to
talk further, so he contented himself by seeing as much as he could
with his keen young eyes of what went on before him, old Bartlemy
having previously cautioned him against gazing about over much.
As they drew nearer the city the crowd became more dense, being swelled
by those who were coming out of it on their way north. A little party
of knights, esquires, pages, and ladies travelling at a faster pace
overtook them, and so they were still better protected from observation
than before, as the new party were now obliged, by the throng, to go
forward slowly. So on they went till they came to the church of St.
Andrew, and the Fleet River, and, crossing the bridge, found
themselves, as old Bartlemy said, not far from the New Gate, through
which they must enter the city. They had no sooner entered than old
Bartlemy said to Hugo,
"Thou didst not see the man at the hut?"
"Nay," answered Hugo, with a nervous start.
"Yon at the entrance to the meat market opposite the Grey Friars is he.
Seem not to notice him, but mark him well. He hath a bailiff to his
help, and it will go hard with somebody."
"He stoppeth not that priest and his novice," observed Hugo.
"That is because the bailiff knoweth both and hath instructed him,"
answered Bartlemy. "Look downward now right modestly till we be safely
past, for thou hast a speaking eye. Thou art not lucky like the good
Humphrey, to have a dull eye, which seeth much and seemeth to see
naught."
Hugo glanced down as he was bid, and soon they were past in safety. But
Humphrey, half turning in his saddle and gazing back, saw a priest and
his novice stopped. "And the priest rideth a gray and the novice a
black," mused Humphrey, "which is a wonderful thing, and not to be
accounted for except by chance."
[Illustration: Humphrey Half Turning in His Saddle Saw the Priest]