Hocking Joseph
The Coming of the King
CHAPTER XVI
THE ESCAPE
"There is no time for further questioning," I said, "even although there are many things I would ask you;" and then in a few words I told her how I had been able to come thither. She said no word while I spoke to her concerning this, not even to ask a question; nevertheless what I said convinced her that never again would she have such a favourable opportunity of escaping, so without any ado we found our way outside the gaol without a single mishap. Indeed, so easy was the escape from Bedford Gaol that I have wondered many times since concerning our good fortune. But as I have said, the coming of the king, and the carousals consequent thereupon, had caused many things to be turned topsy-turvy, so that we got outside the prison gates without so much as a single word spoken to us. For that matter, I believe that no man save Master Sturgeon ever dreamed that I had entered the place, and no man knew when I went out.
Once outside the prison gates she drew a deep breath, and then I saw her lips move as if in prayer. She had brought a cloak with her, which she now threw over her head, and then she hurried rapidly into the street. We were in the very heart of the town, yet saw we no man, for the time was now past midnight, and most of the revellers had gone to sleep.
"Which way would you go?" I asked.
"Along the Woburn Road," she whispered. "But stay, we must not go as though we were followed. May I take your arm, Master Rashcliffe?"
I felt every fibre of my body tingle as her hand rested on my left arm, and I felt that it should go hard with the man who tried to take her from me. I saw to it, therefore, that my sword was loose in its sheath, and that my pistols were easy to command.
"If once we can cross the river we shall be safer, I think," she said. "The town lies this side the river, and once away from the bridge we shall be less likely to meet any who might molest us."
The night was quiet, I remember. Not a breath of wind stirred, and the moon having been hidden by the passing clouds, there was but little light.
We had not gone above twenty paces along the road, which I think the townspeople called the High Street, when we met two men, who, as I judged, were people of authority.
"Who are you and where go you?" one asked.
"Who are you, and where go you?" I retorted quickly.
"Who am I?" he asked. "I am the town clerk. Now tell me who you are."
"Sir William Bilton is the chief man in Bedford," said my companion in a whisper.
I caught her meaning, and spoke as loudly as I dared. "If a guest of Sir William Bilton may not walk through the town to see how it behaves on the day when the king arrives in London without being stopped by the town clerk, it is passing strange," I answered. "Moreover, I will see to it that he knows concerning the matter."
The man's tone changed in a moment. "I hope no offence, young master," he said humbly. "Will you be pleased to pay my humble respects to Sir William, and to tell him that I only seek to do my duty?"
"That is very well," I answered in a tone of offended dignity. "I find no fault with a zealous officer of the town, nevertheless I thought a man in your position could distinguish between a drunken brawler and a man of quality."
"I crave your pardon, worshipful sir," he said, "but I have had much trouble to-night, for nearly every constable and night watchman is drunk. Therefore, although there is much licence at such a time, yet for the good name of the town I must e'en do my duty."
"Ay, I see that, and I will at the first opportunity I have tell Sir William what a faithful town clerk he has. Moreover, you may not take a crown amiss with which to drink the king's health, also that of Sir William."
A moment later we were left alone again, and then we walked slowly down the street. Had I been alone I think I should have hastened, but my companion pressed my arm, and bade me in a whisper to go slowly.
I heard the two men talking together, as though they doubted who we were, but presently they decided to go on their way, and great was my delight as I heard their retreating footsteps.
A minute later we reached the river, which was crossed by means of a roughly built bridge. I noted that the river ran slowly here, and was perchance a little more than forty yards wide. On our left was a dark building, which looked grim and forbidding, standing as it did upon the river bank.
"That is the town gaol," said my companion. "I hoped when I was taken that I should have been imprisoned there. Then would I have escaped two days ago."
"How?" I asked.
"I would have crept out by one of the windows, and swum across the river," she answered.
"But how could you have crept out by the windows?"
"There are those within that gaol who would do aught for me," she answered.
This she said as we crossed the bridge, eagerly looking around her as she spoke.
We still kept straight on, perhaps a hundred yards or more, when she suddenly took a turning to the right.
"And where go we now – Lady Denman?" I asked.
She gave a start, and then stood still as I mentioned her name.
"Nay, not that," she said almost hoarsely.
"It is not easy to speak to you unless I call you by your name," I said.
"Nay, but call me not by his name. He hath been the cause of all our troubles!"
She said these words with such bitterness of voice that she might not have been the same woman who had been speaking a few moments before.
"But he is your husband," I said almost brutally.
She hesitated a few seconds, and then, still holding my arm, she walked by my side along the road.
"There be many reasons which lead a woman to call a man husband," she said. "Not every woman loves the man whose name she bears, and – " here she stopped again like one who seemed to fear she had said too much. "Besides," she went on, "certain subjects are painful. I can go faster if you wish."
"I am sorry if I have said aught to make you angry with me, Lady – "
"Constance," she said; "call me Mistress Constance. Nay, you have done nought to make me angry. Hark! what is that?"
We were now outside the town, and houses were not so plentiful; nevertheless, here and there cottages were scattered, and from some of the windows I saw flickering lights. What we heard was the sound of footsteps and the shout of men's voices.
"They come towards us, not after us," I heard her murmur.
"Perchance there is an alehouse on the road," I suggested, "and these are men who have been drinking there."
"There is an alehouse; but listen – "
We stopped and listened, and I felt sure I was right in my conjecture.
"Am I a constable," I heard one say, "and shall I see such goings on? I tell you, you are drunk!"
"Ay, I am, and so are you, Master Blewitt. The man who is not drunk to-day is not worthy to be called an Englishman. It is only Puritans and women who are not drunk. Ah, we had not been so drunk if Master Leslie's daughter had not been safely in gaol. Had Master Leslie been able to hold up his head he would have done much to keep the town sober, king or no king."
"Ay, that is the worst of these Puritans, and that is why I am glad the king hath come back. There will be no sin in getting drunk now, nay, nor no sin in kissing a pretty girl. Down with the Puritans, I say, and to the gallows with Master Leslie's pretty daughter."
"Nay, 'twould be a pity to put a piece of rope around such a pretty neck."
"What, man! You never saw her neck."
"Ay, but I did, and her face too. I never saw it till she was brought to the river's bank. But I saw it then, and I shall never forget it. Ay, I would know it among ten thousand."
I felt Mistress Constance grasp my arm more tightly with her right hand, while with her left she drew her mantle more closely around her face.
"Shall we go back?" she asked.
"What, towards the prison?"
"Oh no – let us go on."
Indeed we could do nought else, for the men had caught sight of us by this time, and I heard one man exclaim, "Ay, here is a man and a wench coming!"
"Do not fear," I whispered: "there be but three, and they are wellnigh drunk. If the worst comes to the worst I will fight them all – and meanwhile you can escape."
I felt her shiver, even while her fingers gripped my arm still more tightly. Brave as she was, she was still a woman, who shrank from being brought into contact with brutal and profane men.
"Do not leave me if you can help it," she whispered, and then she seemed to master herself, and we walked boldly towards them.
"Good morrow," said one of the men.
"Good morrow," I replied.
"And whither go you?"
"That is my business."
"Ay, and mine too. Know you I am a constable and carry a truncheon? Come, tell me who you are."
"Ay, and let the wench show us her face," said another.
"Ay, and let her give us a kiss," said the third.
My anger was getting the better of me now, for not only did they say what I have written down, but much more, which must have been sorely distasteful to Mistress Constance's ears.
Without any more ado, therefore, I drew my sword.
"The man who approaches a step nearer will have to swallow six inches of steel," I said.
Drunk as they were they started back. One, however, who did not seem quite as drunk as the others, eyed us closely.
"Now, then, Peter Blewitt," he said, "you boast that you are a brave man, and you carry a truncheon. At him! At him!"
But Peter Blewitt did not move.
"And you say you are never frightened!" sneered the other. "You say that you will take me to the lock-up. You! you haven't the courage of a bantam cock!"
This seemed to sting the drunken constable, for he made as though he would come towards me, and throwing off Mistress Constance's hand, I seized a pistol, and held it towards them.
"Unless you go your way I shoot," I cried.
"Now then, Peter Blewitt, surely you are not afraid of a boy's popgun? At him, man! at him!"
With drunken gravity the constable drew his truncheon and came towards me. I was loth, great as the danger was, to use my weapons, for though I had been trained to the use of both, I had never had occasion to defend myself by them before. In this case my hesitation almost led to my undoing, for the feel of the truncheon having evidently given the constable fresh courage, he rushed upon me suddenly, and struck at me with all his might. He did not miss me by more than six inches, and had I not slipped aside, I should have been completely at his mercy, for he was a strong man. As it was, however, he missed me completely, and not only that, but wellnigh fell down at my feet. Peter Blewitt's action, however, proved an example for the others.
"I'll see who the wench is, pistol or no pistol," I heard one say, and I saw him seize Mistress Constance's cloak, and try to pull it aside.
At this I hesitated no longer, but struck at him with my sword. Whether the blade cut its way through the man's thick clothes I know not, but he dropped his arm in a moment, and then, carried away by my desire to be rid of them, I lifted my left arm and fired. I have been told since that the bullet only grazed the man's shoulder, but he cried out like one in the death agony. "I'm killed, I'm killed! Help!" he cried.
At this he took to his heels, and flew as though the furies were at his heels, while the others, apparently frightened at the report of the pistol, followed him howling at the top of their voices.
"Are you hurt?" asked Mistress Constance.
"No; and you are safe!"
"Yes. The man did not see my face. Come, let us go."
We hurried along the road for it may be five minutes; then she stopped.
"There is a stile here somewhere," she said. "I am sure we have not passed it. Ah, there it is."
She leaped lightly over it, and then followed the windings of a footpath. Through two fields we passed together without speaking, then she turned on me suddenly.
"Thank you, Master Rashcliffe," she said; "you are a brave man."
"What do you mean?" I stammered.
"I am safe now. You need not fear for me any more. I thank you from the depths of my heart."
"But you are not arrived at your destination yet."
"No, but I shall be there soon. You see those trees? Once behind them I am safe."
"But – "
"It will not be well for you to come farther, Master Rashcliffe. You need not fear for me. Forgive me if I desire to be alone. It is not because I am not grateful. You have saved me from death, a terrible death. Good-bye. We shall never meet again."
My heart grew cold within me. "You have told me nothing," I stammered. "That is, the time may come when I can be of – that is, I desire to be your friend, even as I told you more than a week ago at – that is, on the night I saw you first."
"No, no. I had better tell you nothing. If I am not taken prisoner again – which I shall not be; no, I will die first! – you will never see me more. But I will pray for you, pray that God will preserve you and give you happiness. But tell me," she cried, and it seemed as though she had remembered something else, "can you get away in safety? You must have had difficulty in coming to me."
"There is no need to fear for me, Mistress Constance," I said, fearing to give her pain on my account, and thus saying words which I was far from being sure of. "I will get away from Bedford without any man being the wiser, and you need not fear that I will ever tell any man that I have seen you. But I thought not to part from you so soon. There are many things I would ask of you. Much hath happened since I saw you last, and perchance you can give me an explanation."
"I can tell you nothing, nothing."
"But you spoke to that old man. You knew him, I saw him also. I had speech with him, and I would know who he was. The knowledge would advantage me much."
"No, no, I must not, I dare not. Good-bye. I thank you beyond words for what you have done, and you need not fear for me. I am safe now. I can hide while search is being made. After that I shall find a home in another land."
"Another land?"
"Ay. There can be no longer a home in England for such as I. Good-bye."
Again she held out her hand, and in so doing she allowed her cloak to drop, so that I saw her face again, and again my heart grew warm as I saw it.
"I cannot let you go like this," I said. "Perchance you will need help again. If you do, then I desire to be at your side to render such service as may lie in my power."
"Why should you?" she asked. "I am a stranger to you. Our pathways have strangely crossed each other, and you have been kind to me. For this I thank you, oh, so much! but we can never meet again. Our paths lie apart. I dare not show my face to my country people. I am a Dissenter. My father is hated of the new king, while I" – here her voice grew hoarse and harsh – "I attempted to kill the man whose actions brought him back. Do you realize that, Master Rashcliffe? Since that day I have been hunted as though I were a mad dog. Since that day I have had to adopt all sorts of disguises. I have had to hide in secret places, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of a man who – who made me do his will, even when my heart grew sick at the thought of it."
"Then you need a friend all the more. I know nothing of the history of your marriage with Sir Charles Denman, and – "
"Do not seek to know it," she cried passionately. "I shall escape now. Since God hath led you to deliver me from Bedford Gaol, even when hope had died within my heart, will He forsake me now?"
"No, but if you need me?" I cried. "Will you not promise to send for me if you need me?"
"Is that your desire? Knowing what you know of me, do you wish to endanger yourself for me?"
"Does not my presence in Bedford to-night prove it?"
"But how may that be? Where can I send?"
"There is a man near St. Paul's Cross who keeps an inn called the Virgin Queen," I made answer. "He was once a servant of my father's. His name is Caleb Bullen. I will speak to him directly I return to London, and if you send a letter to me in care of him it will surely reach me."
I saw that she looked steadily towards me as I spoke, and I thought she hesitated.
"When I need help I will send to you. But stay! I may need protection from my – husband. Will you shield me from him?"
She said this bitterly, and as she spoke my heart became hard. Why should I seek to befriend the wife of another man? Was not her place at his side? Then I remembered the way he spoke to her in the inn at Folkestone, and while I pitied the woman, I felt like hating the man.
"I will help you against all who would harm you," I said.
She grasped my hand convulsively.
"God protect you and preserve you," she said; and then before I realized what she had done, I saw her speeding swiftly across the meadows towards the trees she had spoken of.
I started to follow her, but deemed such an action to be unwise; therefore I stopped and listened. Full five minutes did I wait, but not a sound did I hear. She had disappeared from my view as though she were a shadow of the night. For a time she seemed but the creature of one's dreams, and the events of the night only the imaginings of a disordered mind. Yet I knew it was not so.
Presently, drawn by a curiosity which I was unable to overcome, I went towards the group of trees I have spoken of, and presently I saw a large house wellnigh hidden by much foliage. After that I stayed not a minute, but hurried back with all speed towards Bedford.
The reason for this will be plain. While I was with Mistress Constance, my one thought was to ensure her safety, but directly I was convinced that she had found a refuge, I realized my own danger. It came upon me with great suddenness that I must leave the town within an hour. I knew that the woman's flight from the gaol might be discovered any moment, and thus I should, if I were not careful, be drawn into a net of difficulties. It would be easy to raise the hue and cry, and then I should nowhere find rest for the sole of my foot. I realized that the carousals consequent upon the coming of the king had allowed me to effect her escape. At no other time would it have been possible to have done such a thing. But vigilance had been suspended, and every turnkey had deemed it his duty to become drunk in the king's honour. In this also lay my hope for escape from Bedford that night.
My work, therefore, was to get into the town with all speed, to saddle Black Ben in secret, and to ride away before any man should become aware of my whereabouts. If Master Sturgeon were still asleep this might be easy, for I had taken care to examine the exits from the stable at the time when I had taken up my quarters at The Bull. Moreover, Black Ben, although I wished he had many more hours' rest, had been well fed, and would by this time be ready for a gallop. It is true I had ridden him sixty miles, but his staying power was wonderful, and I knew he would go till he dropped.
It did not take me long to reach The Bull, where I found the carousers still lingering. It struck me, however, that something of importance had happened. The drinkers were not singing and shouting, but talking eagerly.
"You say she hath escaped?" I heard some one say.
"Ay."
"What, from the county gaol?"
"Ay, and Master Sturgeon is murdered."
"Murdered!"
"It is thought that some friend of Master Leslie's found his way into the gaol, and did away with him."
"And the woman is gone?"
"So it is said. I am going thither to see. I heard the news only a minute ago."
"Who told thee?"
"One of the night watchers, and he had it from one of the turnkeys."
All this time I stood in the yard of The Bull beneath an open window.
"Stay, I will go with thee," said one.
"Ay, and I would too," said another, "but I am too drunk."
"Ay, and I too," said another, "and whether Master Leslie's wench hath escaped or no, I will e'en drink till daylight."
With that two or three left the inn, while I cautiously found my way into the stable.
I knew that if I did not get away within the next few minutes my liberty, and perhaps my life, could not be valued at a silver groat.
CHAPTER XVII
HOW I LEFT BEDFORD
If ever a man worked quickly and silently it was I. In less time than it takes me to tell I had thrown Black Ben's saddle across his back and buckled the girths thereof. As the saddle-bags contained nought of value, I had no trouble with them, and before a minute had passed away the bridle was around my horse's head.
"Come, my boy," I whispered, "there is a hard gallop before you, so we must haste."
Whether he understood me or no I dare not say, but he whinnied as though he knew my will, and followed my lead into the yard. I had opened the gate on entering, and it had struck me, even as I had done this, how easy it would have been for a horse-thief to enter the stable and take whatever nag he pleased, as far as the ostler was concerned. Not that I troubled about Black Ben, for no man but myself had been on his back since he was foaled, neither, for that matter, dare any man do this. For while he was obedient to my hand, and was as gentle as a lamb with me, he would not suffer another to mount him. In truth, the ostler was afraid of him when I brought him in, neither would Black Ben have allowed him even to bring his corn had I not spoken to him, and bidden him be quiet. I had no fear, therefore, that any man would steal him. Thus when I unfastened the stable gate with so much ease, I had no fear that I should not find him waiting for me.
As I led him out into the yard Black Ben pricked up his ears, as though he heard strange sounds, and on seeing this my heart sank in my shoes, for I heard a number of people running, and as far as I could judge they were coming towards the inn.
"Where is he? Is he gone?"
"Where is who gone?"
This question was asked by some one who stood by the front door of the inn.
"The young stranger from London."
"Why, what hath he done?"
"Spirited away Master Leslie's daughter. Where is he?"
"In bed hours ago, I expect. He drank nought, but just listened to what the rest were saying."
"Hath he paid his count?"
"Nay. He hath had nought but boiled beef for his supper, and a pint of ale to wash it down. That is but a little matter. Then when he hath paid for his bed and breakfast, he will owe me but a crown."
"But is he in bed?"
"Nay, I know not. This is not a time to know whether a man be in bed or no. Every man hath desired to drink the king's health, and so I have e'en been kept busy drawing ale. But I will send and find out."
"Ay, send and find out. But did you not see him go away with Master Sturgeon?"
"That did I not. Have I not told you that I have been over-busy to-night?"
"Well, he must be found. It is he who hath spirited away Master Leslie's daughter."
"Nay, man, how could he do that?"
"He wellnigh killed Master Sturgeon, locked him in the county gaol, took his keys, and liberated the maid. I tell you he hath done this."
"A pretty cock-and-bull story!"
"But I tell you he hath. One of the turnkeys was found sober enough to unlock the governor's door, and after he woke him, Master Sturgeon told the turnkey that he had been imprisoned by the young stranger from London."
"Say that Queen Mary hath come to life again. I tell you, you be all too drunk to know the truth of this."
"Not so, Master Jiggins; we have been drinking as men should, but we be not so drunk as that. Besides, Master Fulton – the town clerk, saw a man and a woman together not far from the gaol, but he did not think it could be Master Leslie's daughter, because the man claimed to be the friend of Sir William Bilton, and, as you know, Sir William despises Master Leslie as every Quaker rascal should be despised."
At this moment some one must have spoken to Master Jiggins from within, for I heard him say, "The chambermaid hath it that no one is in the young stranger's bedchamber."
"Then hath he escaped. But we must find him. The town clerk hath it that ten guineas will be given to him who will lay hands on him."
"But where is the warrant for this?"
"Master Fulton's word is enough warrant, Master Jiggins. But stay, he hath a horse. Is the horse in the stable?"
At this I knew that what I did must be done quickly. I was therefore on Black Ben's back before they could enter the yard by the door of which I had been hiding while they were speaking.
"Here he is!" cried the man who had been chief spokesman, and he made a dash at the horse's head.
"At him, my boy!" I cried, and the faithful animal darted at the fellow with open mouth.
In spite of themselves the crowd made way for me as I dashed through. Partly, I suspect, because they were not sure who I was, and partly because Black Ben careered so wildly that no man dared to approach him.
"Your count, you blackguard, your count!" I heard Master Jiggins say, who evidently cared more about that than the recapturing of Mistress Constance. Indeed, I heard in after days that Master Jiggins had a warm affection for Master Leslie, and rejoiced that she had escaped from the hands of the drunken governor.
I threw him a couple of crowns as I dashed away.
"That is double what you would have asked, Master Jiggins," I cried, and then I laughed aloud, for the whole pack of them – and there must have been at least twenty of them – stood open mouthed even while I rode away. Never did I realize how silly a number of drunken men could be, and how easy one who had kept his head clear could deal with them. Through the whole night I had worked my will because of the king's command that every man should drink his health, and now at the last I rode away unscathed, having accomplished the thing I had come to Bedford to perform.
It was no wonder, therefore, that I should laugh. The spirit of adventure was hot within me, and now that I sat upon Black Ben's back, I knew that unless they had firearms no man could harm me. For although he had travelled from London to Bedford that day, I knew that now he had had a few hours' rest and a good feed of corn, he could do the whole journey back again and be none the worse for it. Moreover, I doubted if there was a horse in Bedford which could overtake me.
"After him! after him!" I heard some one shout. "He hath flouted us, and laughed in our faces."
Then I heard a louder cry, followed by a silence as though some one in authority had come upon the scene. I longed to shout back, so as to put them upon a false track, but reflected that the least said was the soonest mended, so I gave Black Ben rein, and before long was out of both sight and hearing of Bedford town.
Had I known then that I should soon see Bedford again under different circumstances, I do not think I should have been so light of heart. But coming events do not always cast their shadows before them, in spite of old women's wisdom; and so, feeling my good horse beneath me, and seeing the hedges fly by me as he dashed along the road, I felt that I had nought to fear.
Besides, I had succeeded far beyond my expectations. I felt sure that Mistress Constance was safe, for I knew that she was one who spoke not lightly, and as I remembered what she told me in the prison I knew that she was even then in some secret hiding-place, watched over by a faithful servant, and that perhaps even her father knew not what had become of her.
As may be imagined, I rode straight towards London. Had it been safe I think I should have stayed near Bedford, so that I might in case of need have rendered help to Mistress Constance. But I reflected that I should do more harm than good by staying there, and in spite of passing doubts I felt sure that she was safe. Moreover, London was the place I desired to be in. It would be difficult for any man from Bedford to find me there, and I had plans in my mind which I hoped would forward the schemes which had been formulating there. I also wanted to see my father again, and to know what he had been doing since we parted at Canterbury.
I had not long left Bedford before morning began to dawn, and by the time I had reached the town of Hitchin it was broad daylight. Much as I desired to rest here, both for the sake of Black Ben as well as myself, I rode straight on, barely entering the town, but taking a narrow and somewhat unfrequented road instead. Not a soul did I meet, and this pleased me much, because, in case of pursuers, no one would be able to give information. When I had covered half the distance between Hitchin and St. Albans, I stopped by a wayside inn for an hour, keeping a sharp look-out on the road all the while. By noon I had reached St. Albans, but I did not stay here, pushing on instead to the town of Barnet, where I deemed myself safe from pursuit. Moreover, having once arrived at Barnet, I found the roads so full of travellers, who were on their way to London to join in the revels, as well as others coming from them, that my presence could not call for any comment. Nevertheless, I was very thankful when I reached the Virgin Queen, an inn close by St. Paul's Cross, where I gave my horse in charge of Caleb Bullen, an old-Ptime and faithful servitor of my father's.
I spent two days in London trying to find my father, as well as taking part in the festivities which were held, but although I went everywhere that the public gathered, never once did I catch a glimpse of my father, neither did I meet with any man who had seen aught of him. I concluded therefore that he had again returned home, and had settled down to the old quiet life. Much as I wanted to see him I deemed it wise not to go thither. First, because if any at Bedford had by any means whatsoever become acquainted with my name, they might place watchers there; and second, because I knew that by going home I should put myself outside the possibility of hearing whatever news might be stirring. I therefore counted the crowns which I still possessed, and, finding that I had enough for my needs, I remained at the Virgin Queen, and partook of the good fare which Caleb Bullen provided.
For a week London town was a scene of constant gaiety, for although the great rejoicing took place on the day when the king rode into London, it took the people a full week to settle down to the ordinary course of life. The playhouses which Oliver Cromwell had closed were all open, while seemingly all traces of the old Puritan life which had grown up under the great Protector were swept away in a day. Laws were relaxed, and the old stern system of morals was not only broken, but laughed at as unworthy of a free people.
