CHAPTER VII.
This is a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no long spoon. The Tempest.
One of the strangest problems of our inexplicable nature is the choiceof evil and the rejection of good, even after long experience hasproved that evil and misery are uniformly synonymous. Virtue, it istrue, does not always exempt from sorrow, but crime must ever bewretchedness. Hope loses its balsam, and fear acquires a keener sting;the present is anxiety, the past remorse, and the future is despair;and yet wayward man drinks of the bitter cup when the sweet is offeredto him, and launches his boat upon an angry sea, where storms attendhis course, and shipwreck terminates his voyage, rather than glidedown the smooth current of a tranquil stream, where peace pilots himon his way, and happiness waits him at the shore.
Sir Payan Wileton knew not what happiness is. He had drunk theintoxicating bowl of pleasure, he had drained the boiling draught ofrevenge: pride, avarice, vanity, had all been gratified in turn; butpeace he had never sought, content he had never found, and vengefulpassions, like the Promethean vulture, preyed upon him for ever.Possessed of the vast estates of Chilham Castle, joined to those healso held of Elham Manor and Hyndesford, his wealth had been fullysufficient to create for him that interest amongst the powerful of theland which he could not hope to obtain by virtues or qualities. Thuspowerful, rich, and full of desperate fearlessness, he was dreaded,detested, courted, and obeyed. He felt, too, that he was detested; andhating mankind the more, he became the tyrant of the country round.Seeking to govern by fear instead of esteem, he made his misanthropysubservient to his pride and to his avarice; and wherever he receivedor pretended an offence, there he was sure both to avenge and toenrich himself. Thus his life was a continual warfare, and in thisactive misanthropy he took as much delight as his heart was capable offeeling. It was to him what ardent spirits are to the drunkard, or thedice-box to the gambler.
But there was one constant thorn that goaded him, even in the midst ofthe success which attended his other schemes; namely, the fear thatthe king might deprive him of the stewardship of Dover Castle, bywhich alone he held the estates of Chilham. In vain he had used allthe influence he possessed to have the grant made absolute, or to holdhis land by sergeantry, as it had been held by Lord Fitzbernard; theking was inexorable, and imagined that he did equal justice when herefused to restore the estates to the forfeited family, or to grantthe feof thereof to Sir Payan. Indeed, it had been held by cunninglawyers of the day that Lord Fitzbernard could not lawfully bedispossessed, except under an attainder, which had never beenattempted against him; and that if it could be proved that the estateshad not reverted to the crown by any default of tenure, or byextinction, Sir Payan's right would fall to the ground; and that theonly effect of the king's patent of the stewardry of Dover would be toalienate that office from the family holding the estates.
Sir Payan was too wise to moot the question; and Lord Fitzbernard,hiding his indigence in a far part of Wales, had neither the means noropportunity of succeeding in a suit against him. The few friends,indeed, that the test of misfortune had left the earl out of manyacquaintances, strongly urged the king to revoke the grant which hisfather had made to a bad man, and to restore the property to a goodone; but they never ventured to hint to the choleric monarch that thegrant itself was illegal.
However, Sir Payan had long foreseen that a time would come when theyoung heir of Chilham Castle might wrench his heritage from the handthat usurped it, and he resolved at all hazards to strike where theblow would be most effectual. Several painful indignities had inducedthe aged Earl of Fitzbernard to drop a title and a name to thesplendour of which his means no longer were proportioned; and buryinghimself, as we have before said, in Wales, he devoted his whole timeto endowing his son both with those elegant and warlikeaccomplishments which he fondly hoped would one day prove the means ofre-instating his family in the halls of their ancestors. "Fulbert deDouvres," he said, "the founder of our family in England, won thelands and lordships of Chilham at the point of his lance, and whyshould not Osborne Darnley, the only descendant of Rose de Douvres,his daughter, regain his patrimony by his good sword?"
Happily, his very poverty had removed the old earl from any countywhere the influence of Sir Payan Wileton might be felt, or where hismachinations could be carried on successfully. Yet more than oneattempt had been made to carry off the young heir of Chilham Castle,and little doubt could be entertained in regard to whose hand haddirected them. All, however, had been frustrated by the extraordinaryforesight with which the old earl guarded his son, seeming to have anintuitive knowledge of the time when any such attack was likely totake place, and to be always prepared to avoid or repel it.
At length, however, the time came when the young Osborne Maurice (ashe was now called) was to encounter alone all that his enemies coulddo against him; but it seemed as if his father had now lost all fear,and bidding him resume his real name when he joined the army, he senthim forth unhesitatingly to win renown. How he acquitted himself wehave in some measure seen, and will now proceed with the circumstancesthat followed immediately upon his return to his native country, afterfive years of arduous military service.
The bosom of Sir Payan Wileton, during his absence from the housewhere he had left his prisoner, was agitated by a thousand variouspassions. Triumph--malice--pride--fear that he might yet, by someunforeseen circumstance, escape from his hands--newer and vasterprojects of ambition, still, as he made one step sure, seeking toplace another still higher--the feeling of a difficult enterpriseaccomplished--the heart-stealing preparation for a fresh crime, andmingled still withal an unwonted thrilling of remorse, that, likesounds of music amidst cries of riot and tumult, made discord morediscordant--all occupied the void place of thought, and made himgallop quickly on, communicating to even his corporeal actions thehurried agitation of his feelings.
Thus he proceeded for some way; but when he had ridden on for such atime as he computed that Lady Constance would remain at his dwelling,he turned his horse, and prepared to return home, having by his timestriven to remove from his face all trace of any emotion, and havingalso, in some degree, reduced his feelings to their usual calm,determined action. Yet, nevertheless, there was a strange sensation ofhorror tugging at his heart, when he thought of the nearaccomplishment of his long-entertained designs. "He is too like hismother," muttered Sir Payan. "But yet I am not a woman to halt in mypurposes for the weak memory of an idle passion, which disappointmentand rejection should long have turned into revenge; and yet I wish hewere not so like his mother."
As he returned he checked the speed with which he had set out, and wasproceeding leisurely on the road, when he heard the cantering of ahorse coming up behind; and, turning round, perceived the somewhatcurious figure of Sir Cesar the astrologer. It was one, however, wellknown to Sir Payan, who (as too often is the case) was destitute ofreligion, but by no means emancipated from superstition, and who,while he rejected the light of revelation, could not refrain fromoften yielding to the wild gleams of a dark imagination.
In the still agitated state of his mind, too, when a sort of feverishexcitement stimulated him to seek from any source knowledge of whatwould be the future consequences of his meditated actions, he lookedupon the coming of Sir Cesar as a benefit at the hands of Fortune, andprepared to take advantage of it.
Doffing low, therefore, his plumed hat as the old knight rode up, andbowing almost to his saddle-bow, "Welcome, worthy Sir Cesar," he said;"any news from your splendid friend his Grace of Buckingham?"
Sir Cesar touched his palfrey between the ears with his small baton tomake it slacken its pace; and then, after regarding Sir Payan with hiskeen dark eyes, as was usual with him on first encountering any one heknew, he replied, "Welcome, fortunate Sir Payan Wileton! Your star isin the ascendant!" And while he spoke there was a sort of cynicalsneer on his countenance, which seemed hardly to wish well to him thathe congratulated.
"It is," repli
ed Sir Payan; "but condescend, good Sir Cesar, to rideto my dwelling and pass one day with me, and I will tell you more."
"What can you tell me that I do not know already?" demanded the other."Do you think I know not how much you merited from fortune by yourdeeds when Perkyn Warbeck fled from Taunton? Do you think I know notthat your enemy is in your power? I do, I do; and as I love thefortunate, I will come and stay one day at your house, though you knowI tarry nowhere long."
"I know it well, and hold your sojourn the more honour," answered SirPayan; "but let us on, good Sir Cesar; there is much information whichI will seek at your hands, and I know that you never refuse to give itwhen it is asked for no idle purpose."
"No," replied the astrologer; "every man who seeks knowledge from meshall find it, were he worse than Satan himself; but woe be unto himif he turn it to an evil account! The deeper damnation be upon hishead!"
Putting their horses into a quick pace, they now soon reached themanor-house, the owner of which showed his guest with some ceremonyinto the banquet-hall. "How now!" cried he, observing the repast whichhad been set before Lady Constance still upon the table; "why have notthese things been removed? And where is Heartley?"
The answer involved a long account of what had happened during hisabsence, in which the story of the Portingallo having frightened LadyConstance till she fled into the strong-room was told with a greaterdegree of accuracy than might have been expected, though the length oftime which she remained there was rather exaggerated, and somecomments upon the conduct of Heartley, otherwise Longpole, were added,calculated to take from him Sir Payan's confidence. He had preventedevery one from going in, the servant said, but himself, and hadremained all the time the lady was there.
"He did right," was the laconic reply of Sir Payan; "go to thegranary, where are the Portingallos and their contraband goods, andbid the red-haired Dutchman who speaks English to come hitherdirectly. The key hangs on the nail in the passage."
Sir Payan's plan was formed at once. He doubted not that thecommunication which had taken place between his prisoner and LadyConstance would lead to her seeking means to effect his liberation themoment she arrived at Canterbury, or at least to set on foot someinvestigation; for although he knew not that they had ever met before,he felt sure that the young knight would make his situation known toevery one who might in any way procure his release. Under thisconviction, he determined to risk the event of sending down SirOsborne by daylight, in the custody of the Portuguese, accompanied bytwo of his own servants, who might, in case of necessity, produce thewarrant for his detention, and who would not be missed from his ownhousehold.
The servant whom he had sent to the Portingals, however, soonreturned, with a countenance in which might be seen a strong desire tolaugh, contending with a habitual dread of Sir Payan. "What is thematter, villain?" cried the knight: "where is the Dutchman?"
"Lying in the granary, please your worship," replied the man,restraining his merriment, "dead drunk, tumbled across a Portingallo'sface, that makes him heave up and down by dint of snoring."
Sir Payan stamped his foot with anger and disappointment. "And therest?" demanded he; "all the rest?"
"All dead drunk, please your worship!" replied the servant; "I kickedthem all, to make sure, but not one of them answered me a syllable butUmph!"
"Go!" said Sir Payan; "fetch me Heartley. Sir Cesar, give me youradvice. This is my embarrassment!" and he proceeded to state to hiscompanion the difficulty into which the news he had just heard hadcast him.
This proceeding may appear at first somewhat extraordinary, but it wasvery often the case in regard to Sir Cesar, that people acted as SirPayan Wileton, in letting him into their most private affairs, andeven into secrets where life and death were concerned, having suchperfect confidence in his foreknowledge of events that it would haveseemed to them folly to conceal them. It is very possible that in thismanner the old knight obtained much of the extraordinary informationwhich he certainly did possess, concerning the circumstances andaffairs of almost every person with whom he came in contact; and manyof those predictions which were so singularly verified may beattributed to the combinations he was thus enabled to form. But at thesame time it is perfectly indubitable that he himself attributed allto the sciences which he studied, and placed implicit faith in his ownpowers; and thus, if he deceived the world, he deceived himself also.
It was not, however, the nature of Sir Payan Wileton to confide whollyin any one; and though he informed the old knight that he apprehendedthe influence of Lady Constance de Grey might be exerted the momentshe arrived at Canterbury to procure the release of his prisoner, orat all events that her representations might cause an immediateinvestigation of the affair, which would prevent his disposing ofDarnley as he proposed; and though also perfectly convinced that SirCesar, by his superhuman knowledge, was well aware of the fate hemeditated for his victim, he could not bring himself to unfold to himthat part of his plan, merely saying he intended to send the turbulentyouth, who, as he was well informed, came to seek no less than hisruin and his death, to some far country from whence it would bedifficult to return.
Sir Cesar listened in calm, profound silence; then, fixing his eyes onSir Payan, uttered slowly, "The grave!" Sir Payan started from hisseat.
"You know too much! you know too much!" cried he. "Can you seethoughts as well as actions?"
"Yes!" replied Sir Cesar: "I see and know more than you dream of, butcalm yourself, and fear not. Lady Constance will not arrive atCanterbury before seven o' the clock: you know the haste ofmagistrates and magistrates' men, and can well judge whether she belikely to find a man so generous as to abandon his rere-supper and hisbed of down, for a cold ride and a cold reception. At all events, theycould not be here before two i' the morning, and ere that he will begone. Rest satisfied, I tell you, that they may come if they will, butbefore they come he will be gone."
Sir Payan's fears were very much allayed by this assurance, for hisconfidence in Sir Cesar's prophecies was great; but he felt still moresecure from the examination to which he subjected our friend Longpole,who managed to evade his questions and to quiet his fears withinfinite presence of mind. The lady, he said, had been so terrified bythe insolence of the Portingal captain, that she had run into thestrong-room, not knowing where she went, and was more like one deadthan alive; and that as for the prisoner, he thought of nothing butthreshing the Portingal, against whom he seemed to have an ancientgrudge.
Sir Payan was satisfied, but still his roused suspicion was neverwithout some effect; and to Longpole's dismay he demanded the key,which he said he would now keep himself. There was, however, no meansof avoiding it; and Heartley was obliged to resign into the hands ofSir Payan the means by which he had proposed to effect his younglord's delivery.
"Sir Cesar, I humbly crave your excuse for one moment," said thecrafty knight. "Stay, Heartley, where you are, and removing thosethings, arrange the board for a second banquet: for a banquet such asI give to my best and noblest friends. Open those cupboards of plate,and let the vessels be placed in order."
So saying, he quitted the apartment, and proceeded to the room inwhich Sir Osborne was still pacing up and down, waiting impatientlythe approach of night. The key turned in the door, and with a firmstep Sir Payan entered, and stood before his captive. For a momentthey paused, and eyed each other as when they had first met; and itwas only by a strong effort that the young knight stayed himself fromseizing the persecutor of his race, and dashing him to pieces on thefloor of the prison.
At length Sir Payan, after having glanced his eye round the chamber,spoke, and in the deep, hollow tones of his voice no agitation madeitself heard.
"You said this morning that we knew each other," said the knight;"Osborne Lord Darnley, we do; I have long sought you, I have foundyou, and you are mine own."
"Calm, cold-blooded, mean-spirited villain!" answered Darnley, "whatseek you with me now? Is it not enough to have ruined a noble house?Is it not enough to have destroyed your
benefactor? Is it not enoughto have swept away the happiness of me and mine, without seekingfarther to injure those on whose head your detestable arts must nearlyhave exhausted themselves?"
"I have done enough for my revenge, young man," replied Sir Payan; "Ihave done enough for my ambition; but I have not done enough for mysecurity."
"For your revenge!" cried Darnley: "what mean you, ruffian? My fatherwas your friend, your benefactor. Compassionating your indigence, didhe not aid to raise you with his purse and with his influence, tillyou could hold your head amongst your noble kindred, of whose houseyou are now the opprobrium?"
"Your father insulted me with his services," answered the knight,"after your mother had insulted me with her scorn."
"Name not my mother, traitor!" exclaimed Darnley, his eyes flashingfire. "Profane not her name with your accursed lips, lest I tear youlimb from limb!"
Sir Payan laid his hand on his dagger with a grim smile. "We wastetime, young man," said he: "to the purpose for which I came! There isyet in my redder blood some drops of that weak thing called pity. Iwould rather see you live than die; but if you would live, I must beLord of Chilham Castle, indeed and indeed. No stewardship of Dover,and holding by tenure of good pleasure, for me. Within this hour,then, sign me over, for yourself and for your father, all right andinterest, claim and title, to the lands and lordship which you andyours did formerly possess, and you are free as air. But if you willnot--"
"What then?" demanded Darnley.
"Why, then I will hold by a still better tenure," replied Sir Payan;"the extinction of the race of Darnley!"
"Then hold thereby, if such be heaven's will," replied the prisoner."But beware yourself; for in your best-laid schemes you may chance tofail, and even here on earth meet with that sure damnation for whichyou have toiled so long. Were I willing to stain myself with crimeslike yours, this hour were your last; for yon dagger were but a poordefence against a man who knows his life is lost."
Sir Payan took a step forward to the door. "Will you sign?" said he,laying his hand on the lock.
"Never!"
"Then farewell!" and he quitted the apartment.
"Oh, the villain!" cried Jekin Groby, poking his head out of thecloset. "Oh, the downright, immense villain! What a damaged piece thatman's conscience must be! I'm all quaking with only hearing him. Butdon't you think, my lord--that is to say, Sir Osborne--that if you hadjust knocked his brains out, we might have got away?"
"No, no!" replied the knight. "If, as Heartley told us, we could nothave escaped when aided by Lady Constance de Grey's servants, muchless could we do so now. Better wait till night, which surely cannotbe far distant, for it seems to me we have been here an age."
Nevertheless, hour after hour went by, and the provoking sun, whichhad now fully come round to that side of the house, continued to pourhis beams into the high window, as if willing to sicken the prisonerswith his unwished-for light. Nor did much conversation cheer thepassing of their time. Sir Osborne was silent and meditative; andJekin Groby, growing more and more tired of his situation, keptrunning in and out of the closet, now sitting still for a moment uponthe straw, now walking up and down, not at all unlike a tame bearperambulating to and fro in his den.
Occasionally, indeed, a word or two of hope, or doubt, or inquiry,passed between the prisoners; and Jekin, who felt in himself aninternal conviction that he was a man of as much consequence in theworld as any human being, could not conceive how Sir Payan Wiletoncould have forgot to inquire where he was, when he did not find him inthe same room with the knight. On this he wondered, and betterwondered, till his companion replied, "I told you before, my goodJekin, Sir Payan's designs only affect me, and possibly he may haveforgotten you altogether. But it seems growing darker. I wonderLongpole has not been here to speak to us, according to his promise."
"I should not wonder if he were playing us a trick, and were notto come at all," said Jekin. "Oh, dear! What would become of us?Lord-a-mercy! I don't like it at all!"
In about a quarter of an hour, however, their hopes were raised, anddisappointed. The key once more turned in the door, and both theknight and his companion expected to see their friend Heartley; but inhis place appeared two of the servants of Sir Payan, one of whombrought in some provisions, while the other stood at the door. Thesight, however, of the roast beef and jug of ale was very gratifyingto the entrails of the worthy clothier, who looked on well contentedwhile the man laid them down on the ground before him.
"Now, my good fellow, an we had a little salt," said Jekin, "we couldfall to."
"Fellow me no fellow!" answered the servant. "Eat what you've got, myforward chap, and thank God for it."
"Ay, but wouldst have me tear it with my teeth?" cried the clothier."I'm not a wild beast, though you do keep me in a den."
"Well, I will cut you a nuncheon with my dagger," replied theserving-man. "Look to him, Will, that he do not smite me while Ikneel." And so saying, he stooped and cut several slices from themeat with his side knife, which being done, he rose, and left thestrong-room quickly, as if almost afraid of its denizens.
"Now, sir," cried Jekin, "come and keep your spirit up with some ofthe best comfort in nature. Oh! to my mind, there is no consolation onearth like roast beef and ale."
But Sir Osborne had no inclination to join in the good clothier'srepast. The auguries which he drew from the appearance of these twostrange serving-men, and the absence of Longpole, were not of a natureto increase his appetite; and he looked on silently, while Jekin,without any sacrifice to the gods, devoured great part of the beef,and made manifold libations of the ale.
"Jekin," said Sir Osborne, when the clothier had finished, "I amafraid Sir Payan Wileton has discovered that our friend Heartley isnot quite cordial to his interests, and that he may take means toprevent his aiding us. Now, there is no reason that you should stayhere as well as I; therefore, as soon as it is dark, I will help youup to the window as you did me. Drop down on the other side, and speedas fast as you can to any town where you are well known, there gettogether a body of a dozen horsemen, and scour the sea-coast fromSandwich to Hythe. Wherever you hear of a Portingallo vessel, therestop, and keep good watch; for I doubt not that this Sir Payan intendsto send me to some far land, and perhaps sell me for a slave. Kill meI do not think he dare. Your pains shall be well paid. The night iscoming on; so you had better mount first, and see the ground on theother side, that you may drop fair."
"No, no, my lord--that is, Sir Osborne," said Jekin. "Dang it, no! youwould not go away and leave me, so I'll not go away and leave you.Lord-'a-mercy! that's not fair, any way."
"But by going you can serve me far more than by staying," said SirOsborne; "so try to mount on my shoulders that you may see theground."
It was with great difficulty, however, that the honest clothier waspersuaded to make the attempt, and when he did so it was in vain,Somewhat corpulent and shorter than the knight, even when standingupright on Sir Osborne's shoulders, he could hardly get as much of hisarms over the opening as the other had done; and when he attempted toswing himself up, the heavy part of his body, which, according toHudibras, is the seat of honour, and which, in the worthy clothier,was by no means deficient in rotundity, weighed him back again with astrong counteracting force, so that when Sir Osborne freed him heswang for a moment like a pendulum, and then dropped to the ground.
No resource now remained but to wait patiently the event, and muchneed of patience had they to support them. Day waned, night fell, hourafter hour passed by, and yet no sound gave them notice that anyfriendly being existed within the mansion. The curfew bell, thedistant village clock, the barking of some watchful dogs in thehamlet, and the remote echoes of persons walking to and fro in thedifferent halls, were all that marked the passing of time to theprisoners; and hope began gradually to wax dimmer and more dim, likethe flame of a lamp when its oil is spent. At length, after a weary,silent pause, the clock was heard to strike again; but so faint werethe sounds before they reached their ea
rs, that Sir Osborne couldhardly count them. "I counted but eleven," said he, "and yet methoughtthe last hour that struck was eleven too."
"Oh, 'tis twelve, 'tis twelve!" replied Groby; "I did not take heed tocount, but I am sure it is twelve."
"Hush!" cried the knight; "I hear some one on the outside. Hark!"
"'Tis but a bat," said Jekin; "I heard its wings whirr past thewindow."
"Hush!" cried the knight again, and as he spoke something dartedthrough the opening, and fell at his feet. Feeling over the groundwith his hands, he soon discovered the object of his search, which wasa small roll of parchment. "It is a letter," said he; "but what is theuse of throwing me what I cannot see to read? It must be for to-morrowmorning."
"Open it, open it!" cried Jekin; "methinks I see something shiningthrough the end. It casts a light upon your hand."
Sir Osborne rapidly unrolled the scroll, when to his joy and surprisehe found it covered with large luminous characters, in which, thoughsomewhat smeared by rolling the parchment, was written legibly: "Pullup the rope gently that is cast through the window. Catch the settlethat is tied to it. Make no noise. Come out, and be speedy."
"Oons!" cried Jekin, "this is magic. The fairies are our friends!"
"Oh! brave Heartley," cried the knight; "I thought he would provetrue. But let us lose no time. Jekin, stand you under with me, andextend your arms, that the settle may not make a noise by falling."
By searching along the wall the rope was found, and by pulling itgently the knight soon began to feel a weight at the farther end. Forsome way it ascended silently, as if a person without held it from thewall; but then, when it had been raised about six or seven feet, itgrated desperately till it entered the opening in the wall, which bycourtesy we have termed window. The cord had been so adjusted as toinsure its entrance; and as soon as Sir Osborne was certain that ithad passed sufficiently, and hung upon the very brink, he gave it asudden jerk, and catching it with a strong hand as it fell, securedpossession of the tall settle or hall stool with scarcely any noise.
"Now, good Jekin," said he, "we are free. I will mount first, and thenhelp you up; by standing on this settle, and pulled by me above, youwill not have much difficulty."
"Oh, no! I warrant you, your worship," replied Jekin. "And when we areonce out, let every man run his own way, say I. Your worship's companymay prove somewhat dangerous, and I am a peaceable man."
"Well, be it so," answered the knight; and placing the settle directlyunder the window, he soon contrived to get into the opening, andkneeling in the deep wall, managed with some trouble to raise theheavy body of Groby, and place him in a sitting position on the edge,so that the moment he himself dropped down on the other side, thehonest clothier could take his place and follow his example.
Turning round, Sir Osborne could perceive by the dim light of thenight the tall form of Longpole standing below, but he took care notto utter a sound; and bending his knees, he gradually stretchedhimself out, till he hung by nothing but his hands; then dropped, andin a moment stood silently by Heartley's side, who instantly placed inhis hands the large double-edged sword of which he had been deprivedin the morning.
It now became poor Jekin's turn, who managed the matter somewhat moreslowly, and a good deal more clumsily; and at length, when he dropped,although the arms of the knight broke his fall, he uttered atremendous "Oh!" and exhausted, leant against the wall.
At that moment a light appeared in a window above, passed by a secondone, and instantly the alarum-bell rang out a peal loud enough toawake the dead.
"Run! run! every one his own way!" cried Jekin, who seemed to trustmightily to the activity of his own legs, and plying them with vastrapidity, he fled up an alley before him.
"This way, my lord!" cried Heartley; "quick, we shall distance themfar." And darting off for the thick wood that almost touched the angleof the house, he led the knight into a deep forest path, crying"Stoop!"
The sounds of pursuit were now loud on every side. Whoop, and halloo,and shout, floated on the wind, as the servants, dispersed in alldirections, strove to give information or encouragement to theircomrades, and one party especially seemed by the sound to come rapidlyon their track. At length an alley, bounded by a wall, closed theircourse in that direction.
"We can vault?" said Heartley.
"On!" cried the knight; and in a moment both had cleared the wall andthe dry ditch beyond; but at the same moment the sounds of two partiesof pursuers were heard in the parallel alley.
"Down in the ditch!" cried the knight; "they will see us if we take tothe open field."
No sooner was it said than done, and immediately after, they heard asthey lay, the feet and voices of half a dozen men passing rapidly by.
"I was sure they did not take this way, Joe," cried one.
"And I am sure they did!" answered the other. "They're in the woodnow. Let us----"
What he said more was lost, and after pausing for a moment or two tillthe sounds were but faintly heard in the wood, Longpole and his lordbetook them to the open field, and soon were out of sight of the park.