CHAPTER XXIV
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 pa.s.s 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 ident.i.ty. "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 n.o.bles. 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 n.o.ble 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,"