The opening of the door of the hall startled Iola from her slumber;
and when she found where her head had been resting, a bright warm
blush spread over her fair face. Though the lamp was by this time
glimmering low, the form and face of the woodman were instantly
recognized by all the party in the hall; and an expression of gladness
came over all their faces. He was instantly assailed by many questions
which he could not answer; but he told all he knew; and one piece of
information was at all events satisfactory to both Chartley and Iola,
namely, that the bishop had escaped. "There," he continued, setting
down the food and wine which he carried, "there is something to
refresh you, young people, though good sooth, lady, I thought you were
by this time safe within the walls of the abbey, and would rather it
had been so."
"And so would I," answered Iola, though, perhaps, her heart was at
that moment a little doubtful; "but it could not be, Boyd, for the
door in the cell was closed when I went back--I fancy the bishop had
let it slip from his hand--and I could not return to the abbey without
passing through the midst of the armed men. Then as I was hurrying
towards your cottage for shelter and protection, I met with this noble
Lord, who told me the soldiers were upon the road----"
"And proved a pleasanter protector than an old woodman, I doubt not,"
replied Boyd, with a cynical smile.
Iola's face reddened again; but she replied frankly: "a noble, a kind,
and a generous one certainly, to whom I shall ever feel indebted."
"One does not choose in a thunderstorm, my good friend," said
Chartley, in his usual gay tone, "whether one will take refuge in a
palace or a hermitage. The nearest place at hand is the best; and this
fair lady, I doubt not, cared not much whether it was a lord or a
woodman that came to her aid, so that she got help at need. But now
let us think of what is to be done. Morning will soon be here, and
some course of action must be determined."
"What course do you propose?" asked Boyd.
"Nay, I know not," answered Chartley. "The only thing I can think of
is to take the lady by the hand, and walk straight through these men
back to the abbey with her. They cannot prove me to be a bishop, nor
her either, I suppose."
The woodman mused, and then, pointing to the provisions, he said, "Eat
and drink, eat and drink; you can do that and think too--They cannot
prove either of you to be the bishop. I wish you were anything so
good; but they can, perhaps, prove that you have, both of you, helped
the bishop; and they can make treason out of that, I doubt not, after
the proclamation. 'Tis an awkward case," he continued; "but if you
wait awhile, the piper will bring us intelligence. The best spies in
the world are pipers, horse-doctors, and mendicant friars. Perhaps the
tidings he brings may save you the trouble of decision."
"That is always something gained," replied Chartley; "for decision is
sometimes the hardest work we have to do; but yet I think any plan may
be the best after all; for they can prove but little against me, and
nothing against this sweet lady. They can but suppose that I am
conducting her back to the abbey from some visit or expedition, with
which they have nought to do."
"Ha!" exclaimed the woodman, sternly; "thou would'st not risk her name
and fair fame, young lord? Some visit! What, in this garb, without
coif, or veil, or mantle--on foot, with no attendants? No, no. If she
were to be met and questioned, she must e'en tell the truth, for to
suffer prison, or to lose life itself, were such a thing probable,
were but light to a taint upon her name."
"And who would dare utter such an insinuation in my presence?"
exclaimed Chartley, his eye flashing at the thought. "By Heaven, if
any man did, I would cram it down his throat with my sword."
"So hot!" said the woodman, with a laugh. "If they did not utter it in
your presence, they might utter it behind your back, which were as
bad. They might say--and how could you deny it?--that this lady had
been out of the abbey with you, roaming about no one knew whither,
without motive, without cause, without excuse. No, no! That will not
do. Lord Chartley cannot fight or frighten two hundred men; and they
will have a reason for all this, depend upon it. If not, they'll make
one. 'Tis most unlucky that I knew not of these events before, or I
would have found means to send to the abbey, and have the door from
the cell opened; but it is now too late, I fear, and, at all events,
we must wait for further intelligence. But fear not, lady, fear not.
We will find resources, which are many here, though not quite so
plentiful as the acorns on the trees."
"I am not afraid," answered Iola. "The king, I do not think, would
kill me for guiding the bishop into the wood."
"But he might prevent your marrying the man of your heart," answered
the woodman, with one of his grim smiles.
Iola's colour rose a little; but she replied boldly: "I have no man of
my heart, Boyd; and therefore he could not do that either."
Chartley's eye had turned rapidly to Iola's face, as the woodman
spoke, with an anxious and inquiring look; but her frank reply seemed
to relieve him, and he said, gaily: "Nevertheless, we must not risk
anything where there is risk to you, dear lady. Methinks you are one
who would find even gesses of silk or gold cord difficult to wear; and
we must give Richard no excuse for putting them on, if we can help
it."
"Women are born to wear gesses of some kind or another, noble lord,"
replied Iola; "and unhappy is the woman who cannot, content herself
with them; but I trust you will consult your own safety without
heeding mine."
"Not I, in faith!" answered Chartley, in a determined tone. "I will
see you back to the abbey, and safe in the hands of your friends, come
what will--that is to say, if I have power to do so. They may take my
life or my liberty, but no man has power to make me break my word, or
fail in my devoir."
"Well, well," said the woodman; "let us think of these things no more.
Come, take some bread, good friend," he continued, speaking to the
Arab. "There is salt in it, and you can e'en taste the bottle too, I
dare say, for you cannot tell what are the contents."
He then leaned his head upon his hand, as he lay stretched out by the
fire, and seemed to fall asleep, while Iola and Chartley conversed in
low tones. But, though his eyes were closed, it was not with slumber;
and at length, after an hour or somewhat more had passed, he and the
Arab both started up at once, the woodman exclaiming: "Hark! there is
our messenger! Come forth with me, my lord, and meet him. Your trusty
infidel can stay and protect the lady."
Chartley followed at once, and the woodman strode rapidly across the
court, but suddenly stopped, under the old arch of the gateway; and,
laying his hand upon Lord Chartley's arm, he said, in a low serious
tone: "Are you aware, my lord, that the Lady Iola St. Leger is
contracted in marriage to Arnold Lord Fulmer?"
Chartley stood and gazed at him in silence, with his brow contracted
and his lip quivering. He could not or he would not reply, and the
woodman went on saying: "I am sorry, you did not know this. It should
have been told you before."
"It should, indeed," replied Chartley; and then, after a pause, he
added: "But it matters not, she is not to blame. More than once I have
seen something hanging on her lips as if seeking utterance but afraid
to venture forth. If I had told her what was growing upon my heart,
she would have spoken."
"Most likely," answered the woodman; "for hers is a heart very soon
seen through. 'Tis like a clear well, where one can trace all the
pebbles in the bottom--their shape, their colour, and if anything
obscures them, it is but a light ripple from a passing wind."
"And yet she said but now that she had so love," replied Chartley,
moodily.
"And that is true also," answered the woodman; "contracted in infancy,
how can she love a man she does not even recollect?"
"Well, 'tis no matter," answered Chartley; "the vision of happiness
will pass away, and it is something to have served, protected,
comforted her. Hark, the man is drawing near with a low and solemn
dirge, as if we were all to be slain and buried ere noon. There is the
dawn too, coming in the east, if I mistake not. Let us go on, and stop
the piper's melancholy squeaking."
"'Tis but a sign he is not followed," replied the woodman, detaining
him. "Let us stay here, we might miss him in some of the turnings; I
will whistle, however, to show him that we hear, and then perhaps he
will stop."
But the inveterate piper droned on, till he was within sight of the
gates, and Chartley and the woodman went down to meet him.
"What news, what news?" they both demanded, eagerly.
"Bad tidings," answered the piper, shaking his head. "First, my lord,
you owe me a gold angel."
"There are two," answered Chartley, sharply. "Now for the rest."
"Why then, it is but this," answered Sam. "The rogue, Catesby, has
come down with five hundred horse. He has sent on fifty to arrest your
lordship at Hinckley, before you are out of bed in the morning. The
rest he keeps here to surround the wood, while good Sir John Godscroft
searches every nook and corner of it and the old castle and all, to
find the bishop and any one who may have aided in his escape from the
abbey. They will not leave any stone unturned, depend upon it; and
they swear by their beards, God bless them, that every one who has had
any hand in it is a foul traitor, worthy of gibbet and post."
"Then are we in a strait indeed," exclaimed Chartley; "for with four
hundred and fifty men to watch the wood, and two hundred to search it,
there is but little chance of escape. I care not for myself, woodman,
if you can but save the lady without scaith or ill construction."
"On my life 'tis that that puzzles me most," answered Boyd; "there may
be help at hand, for I have provided some. Your own people, too, will
be back soon, for I have sent for them; but we have no force to cope
with such a number."
"Nay," answered Chartley; "give me but ten men, and I will break
through their line, at least so as to lodge the lady in the abbey.
Then as for my own fate, fall what may, I little care."
"Ten men you can have," answered the woodman; "but tell me first, my
good lord, what you intend to do?"
"Make at once for the nearest door of the abbey," replied Chartley.
"Their line must be thin around the wood, and on that side, perhaps,
the thinnest. Grant that we fall in with some of Catesby's men, as
most like we shall, we can make head against them for a time, and
insure the lady's reaching the gates of the abbey."
"It were better," said Boyd, after thinking for a moment, "that while
one part keep the king's men engaged, two or three of the others carry
the lady quickly across the dell to the little gate. We have no other
chance that I see; but remember, my good lord, that you will be
overpowered and taken to a certainty."
"What matters it?" exclaimed Chartley. "Even were one to act on mere
calculation, 'tis better to lose one than to lose two. Here we should
be both taken together, there we insure her escape. Let us waste no
more time in talking. How can we get the men?"
The woodman threw his eye over the edge of the hill on which they were
standing, and replied, "You can have them at once." Then putting his
horn to his lips, he blew a low and peculiar note; and, in a moment
after, several men were seen running up from amongst the trees and
bushes which covered the descent. "We must lose no time," said the
woodman, "but forward with all speed, or we shall have the search
begun and be cut off. You bring the lady forth while I speak to the
men."
Chartley turned to go; but, pausing suddenly, he said: "Remember, my
good friend, it is on you that I rely to bear the lady safe to the
abbey, while I engage the troopers. Think not on my safety for one
moment; but take some whom you can trust, and away with her at once. I
would fain have seen her safe myself, but it must not be. The dream is
at an end."
The woodman gazed at him with a well-pleased smile, which made his
stern countenance look bright and sweet; and Chartley, without waiting
for further words, hurried away into the ruin.
"There goes a nobleman indeed," said the woodman; and then, striding
forward, he met the men who were advancing upon the hill.
"How many men have you got, David?" he continued, addressing the first
man who came up.
"There are twelve of us," replied the man. "Three are wanting. I
suppose they have stopped them. Most of us slipped through unseen; and
the rest got through in different places, on telling their calling."
A short consultation then ensued, which, brief as it was, had hardly
ceased when Chartley again came forth, bringing Iola with him. Her
face was pale, and she was evidently agitated and alarmed; but she did
not suffer fear or hesitation to embarrass in any degree the
proceedings of the others. Holding tight by Chartley's arm, with the
woodman and one of his men close behind them, and preceded and
followed by the rest, divided into two bodies, she was led on, through
one of the narrowest paths, down to the bottom of the little rise on
which the castle stood. They then crossed a somewhat wider road,
running by the bank and fountain I have mentioned before, and then
plunged again into the thicker part of the wood. Hardly had they done
so however, when the sound of a horn was heard upon the right; and,
turning back his head towards the woodman, Chartley said in a low
voice, "The hunt has begun."
"Wary, wary," said the woodman. "Keep a sharp ear there in front, and
halt in time."
With a somewhat slower step they walked on for a couple of hundred
yards further; and then the two men at the head of their little
column suddenly stopped, one of them holding up his hand as a signal
to those behind. The sun had not actually risen; but yet the grey
morning light had spread over the whole sky; and, though the path was
somewhat dark and gloomy from the thick copse on either side and the
manifold naked branches of the trees overhead, yet, the motions of
each of the little party could be seen by the rest. All stopped at once;
and a dead silence succeeded amongst themselves, through which, the
moment after, the sound of voices and footsteps could be heard, at the
distance of a few paces from them. The woodman laid his finger on his
lips and listened; but there was a smile upon his face which gave
courage to Iola, although the sounds seemed to be approaching fast. So
distinctly were they heard indeed, the moment after, that it seemed as
if a space of not more than five or six yards was left between the
fugitives and the searchers; and Iola clung closer to Chartley's arm,
and looked up in his face, as if asking what would come next. He did
not venture to offer any consolation, but by a look; and still the steps
and the voices came nearer.
"'Tis as thick as a hay stack," one man was heard to say to another,
apparently close by.
"And we are set to find a needle in the pottle of hay," replied his
companion. "Why he may lurk here without our finding him all day."
"But if we find him we shall get a good reward," replied the first.
"Do not reckon upon that, or you will cheat yourself," said his
companion, in a scoffing tone. "At the best, the reward is but a
thousand marks. Then Sir John takes two tenths, and the captain one
tenth, and the other head men two tenths more amongst them, so that
there are but five hundred marks left for two hundred men, even if
Catesby and his people were out of the way, and, depend upon it,
they'll share, so there wont be ten shillings a man."
"What a head you have for reckoning," said the other; "but go on. I
wonder where, in hell's name, we are going. Can you see the castle?"
"Not I," answered the other; "but we must follow this path to the end
any way. There goes the horn that is to lead us."
And they seemed to proceed upon their way.
"Now, forward," said the woodman, in a low voice; and moving rapidly
on, they came to a large holly bush which concealed the mouth of the
little foot track they were following from the very path which the
soldiers had taken. Cutting straight across it, they entered a
somewhat thinner and more open part of the wood, from which the castle
was occasionally visible, so that any one above could have seen them
without much difficulty; but it extended not far; and the danger was
soon past.
"I know where wo are now," said Iola, in a whisper. "We are close to
the cell."
"Hush!" said the woodman. "Hush!" But the unfortunate piper, who was
in the rear, stumbled over the root of a tree, and his pipes emitted a
melancholy groan.
The woodman turned, and shook his fist at him; and the whole party
halted to listen. No sound was heard however; and turning away to the
right, by a gentle descent, they approached the spot where the forest
stretched furthest into the valley.
"I will go forward and look out for a moment," said the woodman at
length, speaking to Chartley in a low voice. "As ill luck would have
it, I had the brushwood on the verge cut down last autumn, to prevent
rascals lurking about there, little thinking I should need it myself;"
and creeping on from bush to bush and tree to tree, he at length got a
view along the whole side of the wood fronting the slope on which the
abbey stood. It was no pleasant sight that he beheld; for, at a
distance of not more than a hundred and fifty yards apart, were
stationed horsemen, watching every point of the wood. With his right
shoulder resting against a tree, and secured on the left by a thick
holly, he remained for about a minute, carefully examining the
proceedings of the soldiery. They moved not from the spots at which
they had been placed; and the path which he had been hitherto
following, wandering in and out amongst the trees upon the slope,
passed at some little distance between two banks, till it reached the
bottom of the descent, not a hundred and fifty yards from the little
postern gate in the abbey wall, over which hung the bell profanely
called the Baby of St. Clare.
Boyd saw at once, from the distance at which the men were stationed,
that there was a great chance of the whole party reaching the entrance
of the lane between the two banks, before more than two of the
soldiers could come up with them; and that if this were effected, Iola
at least was safe.
After finishing his contemplation quietly, the woodman returned to his
party in the same manner as he had left them, taking perhaps even
greater precautions, and stooping almost to his knees, lest his great
height should carry his head above the bushes. When he reached the
others he commanded, rather than explained, saying--
"Now, all upon the path as fast as possible. Robin lead the way to the
passage between the banks. Then follow me, wherever I go, and guard me
from attack; let all the rest halt at the mouth of the lane, and keep
it with a strong hand against pursuers. Now on! Quick, quick!"
The whole party rushed forward, except the piper, (who remained under
cover of the wood,) much in the same order as that in which they had
hitherto proceeded. Iola was hurried on in the midst, with her heart
beating and her head confused, yet gazing round from time to time, and
catching with a quick and hurried glance the scene which immediately
followed. She beheld the horsemen watching the forest; but, till she
had nearly reached the edge of the woodland, the party, which bore her
along amongst them, did not seem to attract any attention. Then,
however, the two soldiers on each side put spurs to their horses, with
a loud shout; and she felt herself instantly caught up in the arms of
the woodman, carried along with extraordinary swiftness down the
descent, and into the hollow between the two banks.
Iola gazed back over her bearer's shoulder; and the last sight she saw
was the party of foresters occupying the mouth of the lane, while
three or four armed horsemen were galloping upon them; and Chartley,
with his drawn sword in his hand and the Arab beside him, stood a
little in advance of his companions, as if to meet the soldiers at
their first onset. They were close upon him; and, with a painful
shudder, she closed her eyes. When she opened them, the bank hid the
scene from her view; and the next moment she heard the bell of the
abbey ring sharply.