TREASON
Having carried out the Constable's instructions relating to the Prior of
Southwick, Geoffrey and Oswald set out on their long ride to rejoin
their comrades at Southampton.
Both lads were lightly accoutred, their armour having been sent on with
the baggage train, and in high spirits they cantered their steeds along
the stretch of grass that bordered the narrow highway.
Presently the open country gave place to dense masses of trees, the
outlying confines of the Forest of Bere—the hunting-ground of kings, and
the haunt of robbers and other evil-doers to boot. Yet there was little
fear of wayfarers being molested in this part of the forest, the outlaws
devoting their attentions to the more remote districts, where the power
of the law, as exercised by the Constable of Portchester, lost somewhat
of its terrors. Nevertheless, the two squires rode warily, keeping a
bright look-out for a possible ambush.
"Methinks I hear men's voices," remarked Oswald, reining in his steed
and listening intently.
"And what of it?" replied Geoffrey with a laugh. "Is not the road free
to all, and may not a man talk if so he listeth?"
"Nay, but 'tis like the shout of a multitude."
"I can now hear it, though 'tis a long way off."
"We must needs ride yarely, for it seemeth as if the sound comes from
the highway in front of us. Let us therefore turn aside through this
thicket."
"Nay," replied Geoffrey stoutly. "That shall not turn us from the
highway. Should there be a band of robbers, 'twill be better to keep to
the road than be entangled in the thickets. Let us set spur, therefore,
and put a brave face on't, though truly I doubt that there be danger."
Thus encouraged, Oswald increased his pace, and, keeping side by side,
the two comrades drew near to the cause of the shouting.
It was a strange sight that met the gaze of the squires, as they turned
a slight bend in the road.
On the right of the highway lay a broad sunlit glade. Seated in a
semi-circle were about two score men, some of whom were yeomen and
farmers, though most were peasants and wood-cutters. Although many
furtive glances were cast in the direction of the highway, the main
attention of the assembly was centred on the form of a speaker, whom the
lads instantly recognized.
"Certes, 'tis my Lord Cobham!" exclaimed Geoffrey. "We have fallen upon
a nest of Lollards."
At that instant one of the assembly happened to catch sight of the two
horsemen, and, giving a warning shout, brought all the crowd to their
feet. Some made towards the undergrowth like startled hares, but for the
most part the Lollards rallied round their leader.
"They will do us no scath," observed Oswald. "Let us therefore ride past
them in peace. Yet 'tis passing strange that these, forming an unlawful
assembly, should fail to set outposts. Had we been a troop of lances
bent on their capture not a man would have escaped."
The squire's resolve to pass them by was doomed to failure, for, seeing
that they were but two wayfarers, several of the men intercepted them.
"Who are ye, and whence come ye?" demanded a burly miller, his garments
dusty with the traces of his calling.
"Peaceable subjects of King Harry," replied Geoffrey boldly. "Ye are, I
perceive, of the following known as Lollards."
"I trust that ye do not mean to betray us? Otherwise——"
"Nay, threaten us not. We would have speech with Sir John Oldcastle."
Blank astonishment was written on the faces of the men who had barred
the lads' way. Several of them muttered under their breath that they
were lost men.
"So be it," replied the spokesman briefly, and laying hold of the bridle
of Geoffrey's horse, led him to where Lord Cobham was still standing,
surrounded by the braver of his followers.
"Greetings, my Lord Cobham," exclaimed Geoffrey, raising his velvet cap,
to which salutation Sir John Oldcastle courteously replied. "I pray thee
that thy men give us free passage."
"Who art thou, fair sir?" asked the knight.
"Canst call to mind the time thou rebukedst the friar hard by the Castle
of Portchester, my lord?"
"Nay, is it possible that thou art the lad who stood by?" asked
Oldcastle. "Thou hast grown somewhat, I trow."
"Tis the same; and my companion here was also with me on that day. In
truth, sir knight, though I be a true member of the Church, thy action I
could not but admire."
"My work in that direction still remains unfinished," remarked Lord
Cobham. "Behold me, a fugitive, thanks to the persecution of my Lord
Archbishop. The meanest of these my followers might be the richer by the
sum of a thousand marks were they to betray me; but on that score I have
scant anxiety. My destiny is in the hands of One above, and should it
please Him to hand me over to mine enemies, His will be done."
"Ask them to swear secrecy concerning thee, fair lord," said one of the
Lollards.
"Nay, I ask no pledge; their way is clear."
"Friends," exclaimed Geoffrey, "I tell ye this: concerning this meeting
we two will keep our own counsel. Nevertheless, if the question is put
straightly to us in this matter we must reply truthfully."
"Bravely spoken, young sir," replied Oldcastle. "It will suffice me,
though I trust none will ask thee if thou hast seen aught of me and my
following. Now farewell, and the blessing of Heaven be with ye both."
Geoffrey was fated never to see the great Lollard leader again. It was
not, however, till two years later, in 1417, that Oldcastle was captured
in the fastnesses of Wales after a desperate resistance. Hailed to
London, he was brought to trial, and even his former friendship with the
King could not save him from the vindictiveness of the ecclesiastical
party, for, under circumstances of extreme barbarity, he suffered death
by fire.
For the next five or six miles the lads conversed on the incident they
had just witnessed. The road was practically deserted, and beyond the
sight of a peasant walking in the fields, or a chapman ambling along
with his wares, the two squires saw nothing to attract their attention.
Late in the afternoon they arrived at the village of Botley, where the
horses had to be fed and watered. While the beasts were being attended
to the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and swinging round a bend in
the road came about a score of mounted men-at-arms, all completely
equipped, while at their head rode a young man with a set, grave
expression on his thin yet clear-cut features.
"Greetings, fair sirs," exclaimed their leader courteously. "Canst tell
me whether accommodation is to be had for me and mine? We are bound for
Southampton to join the King's army, but having travelled far this day,
'tis impossible to reach the town this night."
"We also are strangers," replied Geoffrey. "And we, too, are for
Southampton on a like errand as thyself."
"My name is Olandyne, of Ripley, in the county of Surrey. Perchance,
young sirs, ye will bear us company on the morrow?"
"Nay," answered Geoffrey, after he had announced the names and qualities
of Oswald and himself. "We must needs meet my master, Sir Thomas
Carberry, this day. Yet I trust we may meet again on French soil, even
if not before at Southampton."
While the horses were being watered the two squires held conversation
with Olandyne, who had, at his own expense, raised a troop of a score of
men-at-arms for service with the King's forces. At length, the
men-at-arms having found quarters in the village, Geoffrey and Oswald
resumed their way.
Hardly had they gained the hamlet of Hedge End than the sky became
overcast, and a dark, leaden-coloured cloud began to drive rapidly
against the light westerly wind. Then, Nature's sure warning, the air
became sultry and motionless, while even the birds ceased singing in
anticipation of the coming storm.
"'Twill thunder ere long," said Oswald. "Ought we not to find shelter in
one of these cottages? Our velvet cloaks are but a bad protection from
the weather, and 'twould not do to appear before Sir Thomas like two
bedraggled varlets."
"It is my mind to push on," replied Geoffrey. "Perchance we may escape
the storm. See yon cloud bids fair to pass behind us."
"Then as thou wilt, but it behoves us not to spare spur," replied his
companion, urging his horse into a sharp trot.
On and on they rode, Oswald casting anxious glances at the approaching
cloud, while ever and anon the low rumbling of distant thunder was borne
to their ears. Then a few heavy drops began to fall.
"Thou art right; we are fairly caught," exclaimed Geoffrey. "Were we
campaigning in France 'twould matter but little, but since we may have
to attend the Constable when he is received in audience by the King, it
behoves us to take care of our apparel. I see a cottage yonder; can we
but gain it all will be well."
As he spoke Oswald's horse tripped on a mole-hill, and with a crash its
rider fell to the earth. Fortunately, the soil was soft, and with
nothing more than a shaking the young squire rose to his feet.
"Art hurt?" asked Geoffrey anxiously, as he leapt from his saddle.
"'Tis naught; but alas! my horse."
Oswald's exclamation called his companion's attention to the animal. The
fall had broken one of its fore-legs, but without as much as a whinny
the poor beast stood motionless. Instinct seemed to tell it that its
days of usefulness were numbered.
Having removed the saddle and muffled the horse's eyes, Oswald drew his
dagger, and with a swift blow put the animal out of its misery.
"Poor Firebrand!" he exclaimed. "'Tis a sorry ending. But let us hasten,
Geoffrey; the rain increaseth."
Together the lads made their way towards the distant cottage, Geoffrey
leading his horse, while Oswald bore the trappings and saddlery of his
dead steed.
Suddenly a vivid flash of lightning seemed to dart across their path,
temporarily blinding them with its intensity. Geoffrey's horse, already
rendered strangely unquiet by the tragedy which had overtaken its
companion, became mad with terror, and, rearing on its hind legs,
wrenched the bridle from its master's hand. Then, snorting wildly, the
powerful brute galloped madly away, leaving the two astonished squires
gazing after it in bitter dismay.
"By the Rood of Bosham, we are undone!" exclaimed Oswald when he had
recovered his speech.
"We shall be utterly so if we tarry here," replied Geoffrey, as another
vivid flash played upon the rain-sodden ground. "Let us run to yonder
hovel."
"And be soaked to the skin ere we gain it? Nay, let us rather take
shelter under that oak," said Oswald, pointing to a large tree that
stood in a slight depression in the ground, half a bow-shot away on
their left.
The squires, ignorant of the danger they were incurring, made their way
to the spot indicated. Here for a while they remained under the shelter
of the thick foliage while the torrential rain descended with terrible
force.
Ere long, though the tree afforded protection from the falling rain, the
surface water began to collect in the hollow surrounding the base of the
gnarled trunk.
"Unless we want to be ankle deep in water we must climb into the
branches," said Geoffrey. "So up with thee, and I'll throw up the
saddle."
With little difficulty Oswald obtained a secure perch on one of the
massive limbs of the oak, and having, after one or two ineffectual
attempts, succeeded in placing the saddle in his companion's hands,
Geoffrey made haste to follow. Here, fairly well sheltered from the wind
and rain, the two squires waited and watched the vivid flashes of
lightning, to the accompaniment of deafening peals of thunder.
For over half an hour the storm lasted, but just as its fury was
beginning to abate Oswald called Geoffrey's attention to a horseman
approaching their place of refuge. He was completely cloaked, while his
broad-brimmed hat was drawn well over his eyes; but since he rode
cautiously and without undue haste 'twas apparent that his object was
not to shelter from the storm.
"Say not a word to him," cautioned Geoffrey. "Methinks the tree is a
trysting-place."
As the stranger came within the protection of the wide-spreading
branches he halted at the edge of the newly-formed pool, secured his
steed, and looked long and steadily in the direction of the tree-clad
valley towards Winchester. As he did so the squires saw that the lower
part of his face was that of a young man and far from prepossessing. A
perpetual sneer seemed to linger round his slit-like mouth as he
impatiently gnawed his nether lip.
Thrice he made a wide circuit of the tree-trunk, then, stamping his foot
with ill-concealed impatience, resumed his vigil.
Presently he was joined by two other horsemen, one apparently a person
of quality, and the other a thick-limbed, low-browed retainer.
"Greeting, Sir Thomas Grey," exclaimed the former of the twain who had
just ridden up. "Didst think that I had played thee false?"
"Nay, but I must confess 'twas in my mind that if my Lord Scrope was
daunted by a thunderstorm, his words are more weighty than his actions."
"Let that pass," replied the knight addressed as Lord Scrope, with an
attempt at sternness. "'Tis no time for sorry jest. Hast seen aught of
Cambridge?"
"The Earl hath kept within doors at his lodging at Winton," replied
Grey. "Nor would he trust himself in writing. Yet according to his
promise made when last we met, 'tis certain he will abide by our
proposals."
"'Tis well. Now concerning Harry of Monmouth?"
"I know of a surety that he journeys to Waltham four days hence."
"Then he must pass——?"
"Through Stoneham and Durley."
"Of that thou art certain?"
"As certain as death."
"Nay, talk not of death," replied Lord Scrope with a superstitious
shudder. "Wilt thou bring thy five lances to the cross-roads at Horton
Heath—thou knowest the place where the lane opens out beyond the
pine-trees?—then with my fifteen and the Earl's score of mounted men we
can easily make an onfall upon this base usurper."
"'Tis not to be a spear-running to find favour in the eyes of our
ladies," observed Sir Thomas Grey. "If we can bring the wolf to earth
without scath to ourselves 'tis to be preferred. Therefore I propose to
line the hedge with cross-bowmen, shoot down the King and as many of his
retinue as possible, and put the rest to the sword."
"And then——?"
"The rest is easy. We must needs make our way north as quietly as we are
able. The Earl of Cambridge will, in the ordinary course of events,
proclaim the Earl of March, and with this puppet wearing the regal
purple our future—by the powers of darkness, what is that?"
"What hath startled thee, Grey?"
"Methought I heard something fall from above."
"A fine conspirator thou art, to jump at the creaking of a bough,"
remarked Lord Scrope. "Didst thou hear aught, sirrah?" he continued,
raising his voice and addressing his retainer, who stood barely within
earshot.
"Nay, my lord."
"'Tis as I thought. Now to continue our discourse."
Meanwhile the two squires, perched upon one of the overhanging boughs,
had heard almost every word of the diabolical plot, save when a clap of
thunder interrupted their hearing. In his eagerness to follow the
conversation Oswald had leant forward, and in so doing his dagger
slipped from its sheath. Fortunately, its point stuck into a branch
below, and though discovery was averted, the dull thud had reached the
ears of the younger of the two conspirators.
"We have heard enough," whispered Geoffrey, touching his comrade on the
shoulder. "Make thy way cautiously to the other side of the tree, creep
along its lowermost branch, and when the next peal of thunder comes drop
to earth and run for your life."
"And thou?"
"Art with thee, never fear."
Three hours later Sir Thomas Carberry, Constable of the Castle of
Portchester, was supping in his tent in the camp at Bitterne. The
non-arrival of his squire and his companion had caused him no little
anxiety, yet, reflecting that the storm had compelled them to take
shelter, he prepared to retire to rest.
Suddenly he heard the voice of one of the men-at-arms on guard raised in
a peremptory challenge. The flap of the tent was thrust aside, and two
breathless, footsore, and rain-soaked persons, whom the knight hardly
recognized, burst into his presence without so much as "By thy leave."
"Sir," gasped Geoffrey, "we have happened upon a plot——"
"To do me out of my night's rest?" interrupted Sir Thomas grimly.
"Nay, sir, 'tis no jest. 'Tis a plot against the life of the King!"