CHAPTER XIXTREASON
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 alaugh. "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'sarmy, 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 thehorse'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 shelterof 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!"