There was some delay while a heavy bar was found with which to attack the door, and a light to see by. The door at the head of the stairs soon yielded, but that of the room was another matter. It was of stout oak, and Sir John seemed to think that Martin might be persuaded to open it.
"Martin! Martin!" he called, knocking as he did so. There was movement within, but no answer. "Martin! This riot is no concern of yours. Open!
I have a message for you from Mistress Barbara."
Again there was movement within, and someone spoke in a low voice, but Sir John got no answer.
"Your madman is defiant," said Rosmore. "We shall have to teach him better manners. We must break in the door, Sir John."
The first blow of the bar fell heavily, and there came a sudden answer, a quick sequence of notes--the laugh of the fiddle--then silence. Blow upon blow followed quickly, but there was no answering sound from within.
"Beat where the lock is," said Rosmore. "It gives there, I think; and be on the defensive, Sir John. We have certainly one desperate man to deal with--I think two."
With a crash the lock suddenly gave way, and the door swung open; but no rush of attack came out of the darkness. One man carried the light in and held it high above his head. There was no movement, no sound.
The room was empty!
CHAPTER XIII
THE WAY OF ESCAPE
"That was warm work while it lasted," said Martin as he locked the door.
"They will easily break the first door, but this, at any rate, is good stout oak, and will keep them out for a little while. Wait; I will light a candle."
"We have no way of escape, so they may take what time they will," said Crosby, and then, as the candle shed a dim light in the room, he turned to Barbara. "How can I thank you?--yet I would you were not here. My coming to Aylingford has brought you grievous trouble."
"There was trouble before you came; it does not seem to me much greater now," she answered.
"Spoken like a philosopher," said Martin, laying his sword on the table beside the fiddle and the bow.
"And, truly, Martin, you fight like a soldier," said Barbara.
"The occasion makes the man, mistress. For the moment I was a soldier, and had forgotten the fiddle bow. But speak low; they will be upon the landing in a moment, and I would not have them know that you are here.
Did anyone see you come to the ruins?"
"I think not."
"Good! There are more ways than one of cheating an enemy."
"But we are caught here, Martin--here in the tower." And she put a hand upon the arm of this mad dreamer, as though she would rouse him to action, and cast an appealing glance at Crosby to add his efforts to hers.
"I know, I know. We are locked in my tower. There is no place like it in Aylingford Abbey." And Martin sat down on a low stool by the open hearth and began pushing back the sticks and rubbish which lay there into a heap, as if it were his intention to light a fire.
"Come, Master Fairley, rise once more to the occasion," said Crosby.
"I"m sitting down to it this time," was the answer. "Riding made my knees sore, and fighting has put an ache in my back."
"They have not gained the landing yet," urged Crosby. "Is there not a way to the roof? With a rope we might at least get Mistress Lanison to the ground in safety."
"Yes, Martin, possibly we might all get down from the roof without being seen," said Barbara. "But every way of escape from the Abbey is watched to-night," she went on, turning to Crosby. "Lord Rosmore said so."
"Then we gain little by climbing from the roof if we could do so, which we cannot," said Fairley. "First, I have no rope; secondly--ah! that will do for a second reason. They are upon the landing."
As he spoke the door at the head of the stairs crashed open, and there was a rush of feet without.
"Can you hide Mistress Lanison?" whispered Crosby to Martin, glancing round the room. "They are not likely to search if you and I open the door to them."
Barbara started back, perhaps expecting the room door to burst in suddenly, perhaps to protest that she intended to share the danger, whatever it might be. Her ankle was suddenly seized and held tightly.
"Have a care, mistress," said Martin in a low tone, and, looking down at him, Barbara saw that where the hearth-stone had been there was now a hole. "There is one way that is not watched to-night, I warrant--this way."
He rose quickly from the stool and touched Crosby"s arm.
"Go first. There are steps. Take my sword as well as your own. Then you, mistress. I come last to shut this up again."
There was a loud knock at the door. "Martin! Martin!"
"Sir John!" he whispered, and held up his finger to command silence.
"Martin! This riot is no concern of yours. Open! I have a message for you from Mistress Barbara."
"Quickly! They do not know you are here," whispered Martin.
Crosby went down into darkness, and held his hand to Barbara to steady her. Their heads had sunk below the floor level when the first blow was struck at the door. Martin had extinguished the candle and seized his fiddle. With his foot on the steps he drew the bow sharply across the strings--a little laugh. Then he went down, and at a touch the hearth-stone came slowly back into its ordinary position.
After going down straight for a little way the stairs began to wind, and were so narrow that a man had only just room enough to pa.s.s. Crosby led the way carefully, leaning back a little lest Barbara should stumble in the darkness and fall. From behind, Martin whispered his instructions.
They came presently to a landing which widened out, and here Martin took the lead.
"Give me your hand, mistress. Carefully--there are six more steps," and Martin counted them as he went down. "So, we are now below the floor of the ruined hall. Mad Martin was not to be caught in a trap so easily."
"And now which way do we go? We are still in the Abbey," said Barbara.
"A man might stay here a long time undiscovered, but that is not my plan. Mr. Crosby shall be leaving the Abbey behind long before his enemies have given up hunting for him."
"Martin, I must go too," said Barbara. "There are reasons--many reasons."
"Many reasons why you must stay for the present," said Martin. "Trust me, mistress; it is more dangerous for you to leave the Abbey just now than to remain."
"You do not understand, Martin. Lord Rosmore--"
"Fairley is right," said Crosby. "We found that the Abbey was watched to-night. By one of the bridges on the other side of the stream we overheard two men talking. Cursing their vigil, they declared that Rosmore was bent on private revenge--that my arrest was of his own scheming. He has already had some of my servants sent to Dorchester, and I must ride there without delay to save them."
"But you will be taken."
"Would that be a reason for not going?"