Through the same crowded streets, and entirely unmindful of the people
who jostled him, Humphrey mechanically pushed his way on his return
journey. How should he and Hugo get away from the White Horse? He knew
very little of the world, but this much he knew, that for them to
attempt to leave with the old nurse missing would be to thoroughly
arouse the suspicion which, so far, was half dormant.
"I will pay the reckoning now," he said to himself as he entered the
inn yard. "And then we must do as we can to give them the slip. I know
not why, but dreams be slow to come in this town. I would we were
safely out of it."
He had but just paid it, and the innkeeper was about to inquire
concerning his departure, when a great excitement arose. One of the
frequent fires, for which the London of that day was noted, had broken
out.
"A fire, sayest thou?" cried Humphrey.
"Yea," answered a groom, bursting into the bar. "A fire, master! a
fire!"
Away ran the groom followed by the master. And Hugo coming down at this
moment, Humphrey hurried to him. "Make haste, lad!" he cried. "Come
with me to the stables. We must e'en serve ourselves and get out the
horses and be off, ere the fire abate and the innkeeper and the grooms
come back."
Hugo wondered, but said nothing, for he saw that Humphrey was greatly
excited. And with despatch the horses were saddled and led out. "I
would not that people lose their homes unless they must," said
Humphrey, when they were safely away; "but the fire hath saved us, and
I warrant thee we pay not one hundred and fifty gold pieces for the
saving neither."
"Didst pay so much?" asked Hugo.
"Yea, lad," answered Humphrey. "It seemeth the 'friend to his counsel'
did set the price he was to ask, and nothing less would content him. He
did even hint at more."
"And how much remaineth?" asked Hugo.
"But fifty gold pieces, lad. We be now near our journey's end. Mayhap
they be enough."
"Yea," replied Hugo, thoughtfully. "I must not go to the priory of the
Holy Trinity unless I have great need. So said my uncle to me."
"And where is that, lad?"
"Here in London. It is a powerful and wealthy priory, but my uncle did
say it is as well to pass it by if I can."
"Mind thou thine uncle, lad. But whither go we now?"
"To Dover. Then do we take ship to France."
They had now come to the new London bridge which was of stone. Over it
they went, and had just started on their journey from its southern end
when, in haste, old Bartlemy, clad as the nurse, arrived at the White
Horse. He had slowly and laboriously counted his gold pieces three
times before it occurred to him that one hundred and fifty of these
treasures was no great sum. And that, if he did as Humphrey had
requested, he would be able to add other gold pieces to his store. Thus
thinking, he had repaired to the hiding-place of his disguise, put it
on, and set out.
At the same moment of his arrival the innkeeper came back, and a little
later the grooms began to straggle in.
Old Bartlemy, however, paid no attention to who came in or who went
out. His sole concern was to find Humphrey. Not succeeding, he appealed
to the innkeeper to know what was become of him.
"Why, that I know not," replied the innkeeper, indifferently. "Most
like he hath not yet returned from the fire."
Impatiently old Bartlemy, forgetting that he was a woman, and nurse to
a young lady of the better sort, sat down in the inn yard upon a bench.
And ever and anon as no Humphrey appeared he got up and mingled with
the knots of other men standing about, only to return to his seat.
Finally he could restrain himself no longer, but eagerly began to
inquire of all newcomers as to the whereabouts of Humphrey. Now while
his were questions which no man could answer, they were put in such a
manner as to make men stare curiously upon him. For they were such
questions as one man would ask of another, and not the timid inquiries
of an ignorant old woman. Finally, one of the bystanders more daring
than the rest advanced, and boldly turned back the hood of the head-rail,
letting it hang down over his shoulders, and the head of an old
man was revealed. A murmur of surprise and expectation now ran through
the crowd, and the same bold hand bodily removed the head-rail and the
robe beneath it; and there stood old Bartlemy in his gray woollen
tunic, his legs bare from the knees down, and his feet encased in skin
shoes reaching to his ankles.
"Well done, mother!" cried the bold revealer of his identity. "And now
do thou tell us speedily who is this esquire Humphrey whom thou
seekest. Mayhap he is as little an esquire as thou art an old woman."
Bartlemy looked from face to face, but he answered nothing.
At this moment a groom came running from the stables. "Master! master!"
he cried, addressing the innkeeper, "the horse of the esquire Humphrey
be gone."
"Gone, sirrah!" repeated the innkeeper. "And whither is he gone?"
"Why, that I know not, master. I only know that the horse of the young
lady did bear him company. But the mule of the nurse is still there,
wherefore there is no thievery, since he did take but his own."
The bystanders now crowded more closely around Bartlemy, with the
innkeeper at the front as questioner. "Tell us truly, old man," said
the innkeeper, threateningly; "who is this esquire Humphrey, and who
is the young lady that beareth him company? Make haste with thine
answer, or it shall be worse for thee."
"Why," replied old Bartlemy, slowly, as his gaze wandered from face to
face, "the esquire is the false priest from Oundle, and the young lady
is his novice."
At this reply a man from the rear elbowed his way to the side of the
innkeeper. "I know not how it may please thee," he said, "but, on the
Watling Street by the meat market two days and more agone, a man with a
bailiff to his help did stop a priest and his novice. And he did act
like a madman when he did discover that he had stopped the wrong
persons, and prated of a reward from the king which he must lose."
Old Bartlemy grinned as he listened. Seeing which the innkeeper pounced
upon him. "Were these the priest and his novice?" he asked fiercely.
"Yea, verily," answered old Bartlemy, proudly. "And they would have
been caught but for me. And now I know not whither they be gone," he
added disconsolately. "And perchance I shall see them no more; nor
shall I see the mole on the nose of the good Humphrey more; and so,
farewell to the fortune it might bring me."
"And who is the young lady?" said the innkeeper, with a fierce look.
"Why, she be a fine lad," replied old Bartlemy.
The innkeeper reflected amid a low hum of comment. Then he turned on
the man who had told him of the priest and his novice. "Thou sayest the
king hath a reward for this priest and his novice?" he asked.
"Yea."
"And who be they?" asked the innkeeper.
"They are like to be as little priest and his novice as they be esquire
and young lady. Who be they, I say?"
"I had speech later with the bailiff, and he did say that the priest
was a Saxon serving-man, and the novice was the young lord, Josceline
De Aldithely, escaping to his father."
"After them! after them!" cried the innkeeper, furiously. "They be a
prize!"
In the hurly-burly and din that now arose old Bartlemy slipped out to
the stables, got possession of his mule, and rode off unnoticed.
There were in the London of this time many great town houses of the
nobles. And that of Lord De Launay was situated in Lombard Street, not
far from the White Horse. To it he went riding, at this moment, with a
small retinue in livery. He looked in surprise at the commotion before
the White Horse, and beckoning a retainer he said, "Find me the meaning
of this uproar." Then he rode slowly on to his home.
He had but entered the great square courtyard when the retainer came in
on a gallop. "Your lordship, it be this," he said. "They have but just
struck the trail of the young Lord De Aldithely and will presently run
him to earth, hoping for the reward offered by the king. He rideth now
disguised as a lady, and the serving-man rideth as his esquire."
Now Lord De Launay was he who in the guise of a scullion had set Walter
Skinner free, and all for the friendship he bore Josceline's father. So
calling up twenty of his men-at-arms he sent them in pursuit. "No doubt
they ride to Dover," he said. "Make haste to come up with them. Bid the
young lord cast aside his woman's garb, and stay ye by them as an
escort on the road. Leave them not till they be safely aboard ship and
off to France."
The men-at-arms of Lord De Launay were of the best of that time, being
both bold and faithful, and their master stood but little in awe of the
king. Not that he openly flouted the king's authority, but that, at all
times, he dared to pursue the course that seemed to him best. And this
he could do for two reasons; he pursued it quietly, and the king felt a
little fear of him. Moreover, the king did not discover how much he
owed to him for the thwarting of his plans. Else, powerful noble though
he was, Lord De Launay would have been punished.
Meanwhile, Hugo and Humphrey were making the best of their way, and
stopping not to look to the right hand nor to the left. After them
galloped the men-at-arms, and not many miles out of the city they
overtook them.
Upon their approach the fugitives gave themselves up as lost. "Lad,"
said Humphrey, despairingly, "we have done our best, and we be taken at
last. No doubt these be the king's men-at-arms that ride so swiftly
upon our track. See how they be armed, and how their horses stride!"
Hugo looked over his shoulder, and his face was pale. But there was no
regret in his heart for the attempt he had made to save Josceline, even
though the king's dungeon seemed now to open before him. He said
nothing, and a moment later the men-at-arms swept up and surrounded
them, their leader saluting Hugo, much to the boy's surprise. "My lord
bids thee cast aside thy woman's dress," said he, "and ride in thine
own character."
"And who art thou? And who is thy lord? And wherefore art thou come?"
demanded Humphrey, bravely, as he spurred his horse between Hugo and
the man-at-arms who had spoken.
The man-at-arms laughed. "I see thou hast cause to dread pursuit," he
said. "And, in truth, we did pass some vile knaves riding fast to
overtake ye. One and all they do hope for the king's reward, for the
old man at the White Horse hath betrayed ye."
Closer to Hugo's side Humphrey reined his horse, and the captain of the
men-at-arms laughed louder than before. "Why, what couldst thou do for
the lad against us?" he said. "And yet, thou art brave to try. But put
away thy fears. Lord De Launay is, as thou shouldst know, the sworn
friend of Lord De Aldithely, and he hath sent us to overtake ye and to
carry ye safe to the ship at Dover. So let us on and set a merry pace
for these knaves that would follow us. But first, off with that woman's
robe, my young lord Josceline."
"Willingly!" cried Hugo, who did not even now betray the secret that he
was not Josceline, not knowing what might come of it. And he threw off
hood, cloak, and robe while Humphrey looked from the captain to the boy
and back again. But without a word to the faithful serving-man, the
captain gave the command to the troop, and immediately all were in
swift motion.
A mile was left behind them,--two miles,--and now Humphrey looked at
Hugo amazed. Among these men-at-arms who treated him with a respect
which was like an elixir to him, the boy sat transformed. He held
himself proudly, and seemed, as he sat, a part of his horse. His
handsome eyes shone, and a genial smile parted his lips.
"Who art thou, dear lad?" thought Humphrey. "And though that I cannot
tell, yet this I know, thou art the equal of any De Aldithely." And
then Hugo's eyes fell upon him, and they filled with a most kindly
light.
Meanwhile the motley crowd that had started in pursuit from the White
Horse had become appreciably thinned upon the road. For one was no
rider, and was promptly pitched over his horse's head. Another, in his
haste, had but imperfectly saddled his horse, so that he was speedily
at the side of the road with his horse gone. Others had chosen poor
mounts that could go but slowly, being waggoners' horses and not
accustomed to any but a slow motion.
All these, with disappointment, saw the hope of the king's reward
slipping from them, and looked with envy upon the few who passed them
and vanished from their sight, with determination written on their
faces. Yet even these were destined to failure and, before Rochester
was reached, were fain to turn back, having seen nothing of those whom
they sought.
But the troop of men-at-arms with Hugo and Humphrey still sped, halting
for the night in a safe spot, and rising betimes in the morning to
hurry on, until, their duty done, and the two safely aboard, they
turned back at their leisure.
And all this time, upon the sea going down from Scotland was a ship
which bore Lady De Aldithely and Josceline. Even in the wilds of
Scotland she could not rest, knowing that no spot would remain
unsearched if it should be discovered that it was Hugo Aungerville and
not Josceline who had fled to France. So she and her son had embarked,
and, two days before Hugo and Humphrey, they reached Lord De Aldithely.
And there they found William Lorimer and his men-at-arms, but, to Lady
De Aldithely's distress, no Hugo nor tidings of him.
"What lad is this thou speakest of?" asked Lord De Aldithely.
And then Lady De Aldithely told him all. "And his name," she ended, "is
Hugo Aungerville. Knowest thou aught of him?"
"I should," replied Lord De Aldithely. "Though I have never seen him, I
do know he must be the son of my cousin, Eleanor De Aldithely; for he
hath her brave spirit, and her husband was Hugo Aungerville. And the
lad shall be knighted or ever he arrive. For if he elude the king
successfully and on such an errand, risking his own life to save that
of another, he hath won his spurs."
Thus it was that when Hugo came welcome was waiting for him in the warm
hearts of his kinsfolk. And when he had received his spurs, and Lord De
Aldithely asked him what reward he could give him for saving Josceline
from the king's hands, the boy smiled archly upon the faithful Humphrey
who stood by. "I do ask thee," he said, "that Humphrey may be my
esquire."
And from that day Humphrey, a serving-man no longer, followed his dear
lad, not only in France, but later in England, when Magna Charta had
been signed, and it was safe for them all to return.
THE END