CHAPTER XXXIV
A RIDE FOR LIFE
When Sir Anthony Waledger drank his ale with such evident relish, andleft the chamber from the window of which Collingham and Oliver Icinglawere looking out on the excited populace, the knight and the squireturned on each other countenances which expressed a very considerabledegree of consternation.
“By the rood!” exclaimed Collingham, “our necks are in peril. I feelit.”
“But our hands can guard them, with the aid of God and good St. Edward,”replied Oliver, drawing a dagger from under the rustic garments he woreas disguise.
“Impossible!” said Collingham, rising and shaking his head. “We mustescape, and that forthwith. Put up your dagger and follow me.”
“Lead on, then,” said Oliver, calmly, and both descended the stair,Collingham as he passed out exchanging a whisper with the landlord, whothereupon betook himself to a hiding-place that looked through an almostinvisible crevice into the chamber which the knight and squire had justleft.
Meanwhile, Collingham and Oliver, more and more aware of their danger,but at the same time proof against anything like craven fear, contrivedso to mingle with the crowd as to escape observation, and, feeling theirway cautiously, made for the side of the Thames, which was gay withbarges and pleasure boats crowded with the wives and daughters of baronsand citizens eager to view the procession at a distance, and to catch aglance, if possible, of the foreign prince under whose rule theyanticipated so much liberty and so much happiness. Hailing a littleboat, as if anxious, in his character of a yeoman of Kent, to see allthat was to be seen, Collingham coolly stepped on board, making a signto Oliver to follow, and soon they were rowing leisurely in the middleof what was then “the great highway” of London. Barge after bargefloated past them as they proceeded towards the Surrey shore, and in oneof these Oliver, with a start, recognised De Moreville’s daughter,attended by Dame Waledger and her maidens. They were so close thatBeatrix’s dog, with the remarkable instinct of his race, appeared toknow Oliver in spite of his disguise, and barked and wagged its tail insign of recognition, which had the effect of drawing the sharp eyes ofDame Waledger on the little boat and its passengers. The youth, however,forgetful of his danger, had only eyes for Beatrix, and gazed wistfullyon the barge.
“I marvel much,” soliloquised he, pensively, “whether the fairdemoiselle has forgotten me;” and he sighed audibly.
“By the rood!” exclaimed Collingham, anxiously, “I fear me that ancientshrew guesses who you are. She has eyes like a hawk, and this encountermay be our death.”
But it was too late to remedy the mischief, if mischief had been done,and having urged on the boatman they were soon set ashore on the Surreyside, at a little wharf hard by London Bridge, and without loss of timetook their way to the White Hart, where Collingham, having given minehost some excuse for so sudden a departure, paid their reckoning, whileOliver saddled and bridled their horses, and brought them from thestable.
“Now horse and away,” said Collingham, as he sprang into his saddle. “Ihardly deem they can track us, even if they try, and anyhow we have thestart.”
“True,” said Oliver, as he mounted, not without directing a glance at anancient-looking battle-axe that hung at his saddle-bow; “and yet Icannot but mutter a malison on the luck that makes me dependent on thespeed of such a haquenée at such a moment. Had I but my gallant Ayoubbeneath me, small danger would there be of my impeding your progress;”and as he spoke they rode on, turning their faces southward.
“Fear not,” replied Collingham, dauntlessly; “if the old hack has notspeed he hath endurance, and I doubt not will carry you fast enough tosup and sleep this night in the Sussex forest;” and they pursued theirway, frequently turning aside, however, to avoid the habitations of men,and confining themselves as much as possible to the woods and woodlands.Such, indeed, was the course they took, that the idea of being tracedwas one which it seemed unreasonable to entertain. But a craving forrevenge sharpens mortal invention, and Sir Anthony Waledger was in nomood to be baffled. Besides, other keen eyes besides those of DameWaledger had been on them. As they mounted in haste at the White Hart,Clem the Bold Rider, who had accompanied De Moreville to London, andgone on a visit to the hostler, was hanging about the stables of theinn, and patting the head of a russet bloodhound, which he seemed tohave taken under his especial charge, and which he addressed as Canmore.No sooner did they ride away than Clem, committing the dog to the careof the hostler, left the White Hart, and hurried away to Westminsterwith intelligence of what he had seen.
“Ho, ho!” cried Sir Anthony Waledger, joyfully, “the saints havedelivered them into our hands;” and without even waiting to consult DeMoreville, the knight mounted, with Clem the Bold Rider and ten othermen at his back, and hastily as the crowded streets would permit oftheir doing, made for London Bridge, crossed to Southwark, and rodeforward to the White Hart, to set the bloodhound on the track of thefugitives.
“It is parlous strange,” mused Sir Anthony, as Clem brought out thebloodhound; “this dog belongs to a breed which Edric Icingla broughtfrom the borders of Scotland to Chas-Chateil, and he was wont to boastof their sagacity and unerring instinct. Little did the braggart Saxonforesee that one of them was one day to be used to bring his son tojustice.”
Meanwhile, guided by the dog, the knight was speeding on, and so wereCollingham and Oliver. At first they rode at a rapid rate, but,believing that all danger was over, and having a long journey beforethem, they gradually slackened their pace, and even ventured to halt forhalf an hour at a mill that whirled on a branch of the River Mole, torest their horses and drink a cup of home-brewed ale. Had they beenaware of their danger, they might have found refuge in Earl Warren’scastle of Reigate, which still held out for the king. But having nowlittle or no apprehension of pursuit, they, on remounting, pursued theirway leisurely towards Sussex, and entered the forest country with afeeling of such thorough security that they began to laugh at theirrecent peril.
“Now let De Moreville and his drunken knight do their worst,” saidCollingham, gaily. “If they follow us to our retreat they will havereason to wish they had rather fallen into the hands of the Tartars.”
“Ay, let them do their worst,” repeated Oliver, sternly. “By the HolyCross, when we next meet, mayhap they will have less relish for ourcompany.”
“However,” observed Collingham, gravely, “let us not forget the homelyproverb which tells us not to halloo too loud till we are out of thewood, and profit so far by the lesson we have received as not again, onlight grounds, to thrust ourselves needlessly into manifest peril.”
“It is a lesson which men of adventurous spirit are ever slow to learn,”observed Oliver, thoughtfully, and again they rode on in silence.
But ere long this silence was destined to be rudely disturbed. Whiletheir horses were pacing along a beautiful glade, and over turf assmooth as that of a modern racecourse, a sound like the baying of a dogsuddenly broke on their ears. It was, indeed, at some distance.Nevertheless, Collingham, a man not easily frightened, reined up hissteed, and listened in great alarm.
“By the rood!” exclaimed he, after listening for a minute, during whichthe bay of the dog sounded again and again through the forest, “I couldscarce have believed any man wearing the spurs of knighthood capable oftaking such an advantage over warriors in adversity. Nevertheless, Isuspect it is not the less true that they have bloodhounds on our track.If so, we have nothing to trust to but the speed of our horses. SoMaster Icingla, ride on, and spare not the spur, for in cases such asthis, it is the safety of man, and not the convenience of the beast thatmust be consulted.”
“O for an hour of Ayoub!” groaned Oliver Icingla as he applied the spur.“My malison upon the false Normans who have separated me from my goodsteed at a time when I most need his aid. But on, on, Sir William deCollingham. St. Edward forfend that I should be in your way.”
And on they rode through the forest, pausing not at marsh, or hedge, ordyke, disdainin
g obstacles and defying dangers. But Collingham was underthe necessity of ever and anon reining in his good steed to keep pacewith the white haquenée, and Oliver, albeit his horse made every effort,felt that it would be better to face a dozen foes singlehanded thancontinue to urge the already exhausted animal beyond its speed, and gaveexpression to his sentiments on the point in very earnest language,especially when the baying of the hound indicated that the pursuers weredrawing nearer, and still more so when, after emerging from the forestglade into open meadowland, they looked hurriedly behind, and perceivedthat their pursuers, headed by the bloodhound, and Sir Anthony Waledgercheering the dog on, were gradually, and indeed rapidly, gaining uponthem.
Oliver uttered a shout expressive of rage and despair.
“Be patient,” said Collingham, “and droop not. Remember that, albeittheir steeds are swifter, and their numbers greater, yet the race is notalways to the swift, nor the battle always to the strong.”
Oliver Icingla answered only with a groan, and as he did so the whitehaquenée groaned in chorus. In fact, every hope of escape was vanishingfrom the English squire’s mind, and the horse he bestrode was fastbecoming exhausted. But still Collingham spoke words of hope, andlaughed in spite of the baying of the bloodhound and the yell of thepursuers. Indeed, the chase now became most exciting, and Sir Anthonyand his men, who felt quite sure of their game, enjoyed it in spite oftheir exertions, and shouted mockingly at the efforts of Oliver Icinglato make the white haquenée keep up with Collingham’s charger. Of course,this state of affairs could not long continue, and it was brought to avery sudden termination.
Both the fugitives and their pursuers were already in Sussex, when theyreached a wooded valley, intersected by a running stream, not wide, butdeep, and difficult to cross. Collingham, however, dashed through, and,thanks to his strong steed, reached the sward opposite without accident;but Oliver Icingla was not so fortunate. In attempting to ascend theopposite bank his white steed gave way, rolled back, and, whollyincapable of making another struggle, fell utterly exhausted into thewater, bearing its rider with it. To extricate his limbs from the fallenhaquenée and gain the grassy bank was no easy process under thecircumstances. But, agile and dexterous, Oliver Icingla succeeded, andwith the water running from his clothes, he stood there grasping hisbattle-axe with the attitude and expression of a person who had lost allhopes of escaping death, but who was determined to sell his life at thedearest rate. Collingham gazed on the youth with the admiration whichthe physically brave ever feel for high moral courage.
By this time the pursuers were approaching close to that bank of thestream that the fugitives had left.
“Ride on, Sir William de Collingham,” said Oliver, with a gesture whichsufficiently proved that he was thinking more of the knight’s safetythan his own. “Ride on, I pray you. I grieve that I have too longimpeded you on your way. I now perceive plainly that my doom is to diehere, and I may as well resign myself to my fate.”
“And die by their hands in this wilderness?” asked Collingham in horror.
“Yes, by their hands, and in this wilderness,” answered Oliver withresignation. “But,” added he, grimly, “carry comfort with thee, SirWilliam de Collingham. I die not till I have sent at least three of mineenemies to their account. Now away and save thyself, and as thou ridestpray that St. Edward may aid the last of the Icinglas to write hisepitaph in legible characters on the crests of his foes. Farewell!”
But William de Collingham was not the man to desert a comrade in such astrait as this.
“By my faith, lad,” said he, “I like thy spirit, and doubt not but thouwouldst make good thy promise ere they overpowered thee; but it shallnever be said that thou wert left to deal alone with such odds whileWilliam de Collingham can wield his sword. So, as thy haquenée isclearly unable to carry thee further, we must even turn to bay. If wecould but check this drunken knight and his knaves, my horse might yetcarry us both to the refuge we wot of, which, as thou knowest, is notfar off. But we must first get quit of that pestilent hound. Would thatI had but a yew-tree bough! A shaft should speedily put a stop to hisbaying.”
“Stay,” replied Oliver, who had been closely eyeing the dog whileCollingham was speaking. “I think I can manage the hound without thehelp of thy shaft. By the bones of St. Edward, the brute is mine own!Canmore! Canmore! hi, boy, hi!” cried he, addressing the hound, whichhad now reached the opposite side of the stream.
The animal no sooner heard his voice than, recognising tones familiar toit, its previously fierce aspect changed, and, plunging into the water,it swam across and commenced fawning upon the squire instead of tearinghim to pieces, as Sir Anthony and his followers had anticipated.
“Come,” said Collingham, “that is one foe converted into a friend. Wemay now manage so to deal with the rest as to indispose them for furtherpursuit. Have thine axe ready; they cannot all cross at once; strike noblow that does not tell, and I warrant me if we can disable the knightand two or three of the foremost of his fellows the rest will nottrouble us further. Strike thou at the knaves, and leave me to deal withthe knight.”
“Have with you, then!” answered Icingla. “St. Edward for the right! Butdown, Canmore, down!” added he, again addressing the hound, whichcontinued to express its joy at meeting him by leaping upon him andlicking his hand. “Thou hast helped to get us into a scrape, boy, andmust also help us out of it. Seize yonder knave and see that ye hold himfast,” said he, pointing to one of two horsemen who had now, at theheels of Sir Anthony, plunged into the stream.
The sagacious animal at once comprehended his master’s wish, andhesitated not to obey. Crouching upon its haunches in readiness for aspring, its bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely, and every hair upon itsshaggy back quivering with rage and eagerness, the hound waited till theforemost horseman had gained the bank, and then sprang upon the horse’sneck, into which the dog’s long and sharp claws were plunged while histeeth were at the rider’s throat. Maddened with pain, the steed plunged,reared, and finally slipping upon the slimy margin of the stream, fellbackwards into the water, carrying man and dog with him. The hound,however, did not quit his hold till the struggles of the man havingceased showed that he was harmless. The animal then regained the bankand prepared to take a further part in the fray, which had meanwhilebeen fiercely waged there. One blow of Oliver’s battle-axe had beensufficient to put Sir Anthony’s second supporter _hors-de-combat_, whileCollingham was engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand encounter withWaledger and a third of his men-at-arms. Others continued to cross thebrook, and Oliver was now hard pressed by three assailants at once, and,fighting at the disadvantage of being on foot while his opponents wereon horseback, had received more than one hurt, though not seriouslyinjured. Collingham, perceiving that his friend could not long maintainso unequal a contest, disregarding his less formidable antagonist, firstpressed Sir Anthony so closely as to force him back to the very verge ofthe stream, and then, backing his own steed suddenly a few paces, gavehim the spur and dashed against Waledger with so much force as to upsetman and horse into the water in even worse plight than his follower hadbeen before, as, from the weight of his armour, he was in danger ofdrowning at once. Meanwhile, Oliver had disposed of one of his threeassailants, a swinging blow from Collingham’s sword settled a second,and the third, hearing the shout of “Save Sir Anthony! save SirAnthony!” raised by the rest of his fellows, turned his horse andplunged again into the stream, followed by the yeoman who had attackedCollingham.
“By the mass, Icingla, thou hast plied thine axe well,” shoutedCollingham. “But it were folly to risk further fighting. Thou artwounded, I see, and I myself am not scathless, so, while the knaves arefishing their drunken leader out of the water, get up behind me and letus make the best of our way for the refuge in the marshes.”
“I am loth to part with the knaves even thus,” said Oliver; “but thouart right, Sir William. We have a chance to escape now, and can reckonwith the rascals another time.”
So saying, he m
ounted behind his friend, and the two, followed by thehound, dashed off towards a clump of forest not far off, leaving thehaquenée to its fate, and the followers of Sir Anthony Waledger torescue their master how they could.
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