The Woodman: A Romance of the Times of Richard III

  CHAPTER XLVII.

  Come back with me, dear reader, come back with me both in time andspace; for we must return to the morning before, and to the littlehill-top--not far from the spot where the road to Tamworth and toFazely separates--over which, at that time, spread brown turf, greengorse, and a few patches of stunted heath, with here and there ahawthorn, rugged and thorny, like a cankered disposition. There is aman on horseback at the top of the mound; and he looks, first eagerlytowards Tamworth, then at the sun, just rising over the distantslopes. Lo, two or three horsemen coming on the road from Tamworth!All stop but one, and turn back. The one comes forward at fiery speed,quits the road, gallops up the hill, and stands fronting the other.

  "Good morrow, my Lord Fulmer," said Chartley. "I am here alone. No oneknows of my being here. You have brought men with you along the road."

  "They have gone back to Tamworth," replied Lord Fulmer, with a look offierce satisfaction upon his brow. "I take no advantage, LordChartley. It is quite satisfaction enough to me to have you here at mysword's point, without my seeking to punish you otherwise. Come, draw,my lord, and take your last look of earth; for either you or I quitnot this spot alive."

  "On horseback, then?" said Chartley. "So be it;" and he drew hissword.

  Lord Fulmer wheeled his horse a little, to gain ground, and thenspurred furiously on his adversary, his strong charger coming forwardwith tremendous force. Chartley's was a lighter horse, but far moreagile; and, knowing that it would not stand the shock, he drew theright rein, and struck the beast's flank with the left spur. The horsepassaged suddenly to the right; and Lord Fulmer was borne past, aiminga blow at Chartley's head as he went. The other, however, parried itwith a cool smile, and then wheeling suddenly upon him, in a manner hehad learned in other lands, met him, in the act of turning, and,striking him in the throat with the pommel of his sword, hurled himbackwards out of the saddle.

  The moment this was done, he sprang to the ground; but Fulmer wasalready on his feet, and ready to attack his adversary sword in hand.

  "A pitiful mountebank's trick," he cried, "unworthy of a knight andgentleman."

  "I would fain spare your life, boy," cried Chartley, somewhat angry athis insulting words.

  "I will not hold it at your pleasure," returned Fulmer, attacking himfuriously, with his dagger in one hand, and his sword in the other.The combat was now somewhat more equal, though Chartley was thestronger man, and the better swordsman; but, to use a commonexpression, he gave many a chance away, unwilling that men should sayhe had slain Lord Fulmer, to obtain his contracted bride. For severalminutes he stood upon the defensive, watching an opportunity to woundor disarm his foe. But even a calm and patient spirit, whichChartley's was not, will get heated under strife like that. Soon hebegan to return the blows, and the contest waxed fierce and strong;but, even in his heat. Chartley forgot not his skill; and Fulmer did.A conviction, a dark and fearful conviction, which vanity had hiddenfrom him before, that he was no match for the man to whom he wasopposed, began to mingle with his anger. The blows that fell about himlike rain, the thrusts that he could hardly parry, confused his mindand dazzled his sight. He was driven round and round, back upon theside of the hill, where the footing was unsteady; and then suddenly hefelt his guard beat down; a strong grasp was laid upon his throat, andonce more he was hurled prostrate on the turf. His sword was lost, thehand which held his dagger mastered, and, when he looked up, he sawthe blade of Chartley's _mis?ricorde_ raised high and gleaming abovehis head. Chartley paused for an instant. The better spirit came tohis aid; and, still holding tight the fallen man's left wrist, withhis knee upon his chest, he brushed back the curls of hair from hisown forehead, with the hand that held the dagger. At that instant heheard a sound behind him, which, in the eagerness of the strife, hehad not before noticed, and in an instant his arms were seized.

  Shaking off the grasp laid upon him, as he started up, he turnedfiercely and indignantly round. Ten or twelve men on foot andhorseback were now around him; and, with a withering glance at LordFulmer, who by this time had risen on his knee, Chartley exclaimed,"Cowardly traitor, is this your good faith?"

  "On my honour, on my soul!" exclaimed Lord Fulmer, rising and passinghis hand across his eyes, as if his sight were dim, "I have no sharein this. These people are none of mine."

  "What would you, sirs?" exclaimed Chartley, as the men advanced towardshim again, "Keep back, for I am not to be laid hands on lightly."

  "Stay, stay," cried one of the men on horseback, riding forward. "Yourname is Lord Chartley, or I much mistake--nay, I know it is; for Ihave seen you often at the court. Yield to the king's officer. I amcommanded to apprehend you, and carry you to the nearest post of theroyal troops. We have pursued you hither from St. Clare, and have comejust in time, it seems. Do you yield, my lord, or must I use force?"

  Resistance was in vain; and, with a heavy heart, Chartley replied, "Iyield, of course, to the king's pleasure. What have I done that shouldcause his grace to treat me thus?"

  "He was informed, my lord," replied the officer, "that you wereleading your men straight to the army of the rebel Richmond."

  "Or rather, you should say, straight towards the forces of the goodLord Stanley. Upon my life 'twill make a goodly tale, to hear that theking imprisons those who go to meet his foes, and honours those whorun away before them."

  "There are some other matters too against you, sir," replied theofficer. "Reports have come from a good man, lately the bailiff of theabbey of St. Clare, tending to show that you have had schemes in hand,contrary to the king's good pleasure. If you were going to LordStanley, however, in that matter you can soon exculpate yourself, asinto his hands I shall deliver you, his being the nearest force atthis moment. Pray mount your horse, my lord. Some one take up hissword and give it me."

  During all this time, Lord Fulmer had stood by, with his eyes bentdown and his arms folded; but now, as if with a sudden emotion, hestarted forward to Chartley's side, exclaiming, "Upon my honour and myconscience, I have had nought to do with this."

  Chartley sprang into the saddle, and gave him a look of scorn, saying,"My noble lord, it is mighty strange they should know the day, andhour, and place where to fall on me, many against one. Had I not comehither to meet you, they would have found me with good three hundredspears, and might have bethought them once or twice, before theyjudged it fit to tell me such a tale. Now, sir, which way? I am yourhumble varlet."

  "To the right," said the officer; and the whole party moved on uponthe road to Atherston.

  Chartley was in no mood for conversation; but with his head bent, andhis heart full of bitter disappointment, he rode slowly forward withthe soldiers, half inclined, at the turning of every road they passed,to put spurs to his horse, and see whether he could not distance hiscaptors. But, as if judging that such an attempt was likely, whereveran opportunity presented itself, one of the soldiers rode forward tohis right hand or his left; and he saw that several of the footmen,who were archers, kept their bows bent and their arrows on the string.

  At length there was a sound of horse, coming at a quick pace behind;and a party of some two hundred men, all clad in glittering armour,and bearing a banner at their head, rode by at a rapid trot, going inthe same direction as themselves, and only turning their heads to lookat the small party as they passed by.

  The officer, however, who rode by Chartley's side, instantly shoutedloudly, "Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley!" and then spurred on. Chartleysaw him speak to a gentleman at the head of the other troop, whoseemed to wait and to listen with impatience; for his gestures werequick and sharp, and he soon rode on again. The officer immediatelyreturned, and, ordering the archers to follow as speedily as theymight, he said, "Now, my lord, we must gallop forward to Atherston."

  He then put his troop at once into a more rapid pace, and rode afterthe body of horse which had gone on.

  "Did Lord Stanley say aught regarding me?" asked Chartley, when theyhad nearly overtaken the others.

  "Ay,
my lord, he did," replied the officer, in a gruff tone. "He saidyour men opposed the passage of his force through Fazely this morning,but that he had driven them out, and let them go, for, friends orenemies, 'twas no matter, they were but a handful."

  "'Twas by no orders of mine," answered Chartley. "Had I been there, itwould not have happened."

  "That you must explain yourself, my lord," answered the officer. "Ionly do my duty, and that with no good will."

  At the pace they went, a very short space of time brought them toAtherston; and at the door of an old-fashioned inn, which then stoodthere, and in which Chartley had lodged for some weeks, Lord Stanleysprang to the ground, saluted by a number of gentlemen and soldiers,by whom the little town was already occupied. He spoke for a moment ortwo to one of them, and then entered the inn, saying aloud, "That willdo--only set a guard;" and the gentleman whom he addressed immediatelyadvanced to the spot where Chartley still sat upon his horse, saying,"Your lordship must follow me. I am sorry that I must place a guardover you."

  "Can I not speak with Lord Stanley?" demanded Chartley.

  "Not at present, my good lord," replied the gentleman. "He is full ofbusiness. The king marches from Leicester to-morrow; and we must notbe tardy."

  Chartley made no reply, but followed in bitter silence, passingthrough the groups of gazing idlers round the inn-door, to a room upone flight of stairs, where some of his own servants used to sleep.There he was left alone, with the door locked and barred upon him. Amoment after, he heard the tread of a sentry, and then the voice ofsome one speaking from a window to a person in the street, and saying,"Hie away to the king, and tell him you have caught him. Beseech hisgrace to send me orders what I am to do with him, for I have noinstructions. Add that I will send in our muster-roll to-night."

  Chartley mused over what he heard. The words evidently applied to him;and he asked himself what would be the result of the message. The fateof Gray, Vaughan, Hastings, Rivers, Buckingham, warned him of what waslikely to befall him; short shrift and speedy death. All the brightvisions had vanished; the gay and sparkling hopes that danced in hisbosom on the preceding night were still. If death is terrible, howmuch more terrible when he comes to put his icy barrier between us andnear anticipated joys. Chartley could have died in the field withhardly a regret, but the cold unhonoured death of the headsman's axe,the inglorious unresisting fall, it was full of horrors to him. Yet henerved his spirit to bear it as became him; and he communed with andschooled his own heart for many a live-long hour. The minutes crept onminutes, the shadow wandered along the wall, a thunderstorm closed theday, and the rain poured down in torrents. Chartley marked not theminutes, saw not the shadow, hardly heard the storm that ragedwithout. He thought of Iola; and he asked his heart, "What will becomeof her?"

  They brought him food; but he hardly tasted it, and wine, but he knewthere was no consolation there; and when the sun went down, he crossedhis arms upon his chest, and, gazing forth from the window, said tohimself, "Perchance it is the last that will ever set for me."

  Shortly after, alight was brought him; and he asked if he could getpaper and pen and ink; but the man went away, saying he would see, anddid not return.

  The whole night passed. There was no bed in the room; and though onceor twice his eyes closed in sleep for a few minutes, with his armsleaning on the table, yet it was but to wake up again with a start.The next morning, dawned fair, but for some hours no one came nearhim. At length food was again brought, but the man who carried iteither would not or could not answer any questions, and the day rolledon, chequered by sounds and sights in the streets, such as commonlyare heard and seen in a small town filled with soldiery.

  It was a long and weary day, however; and Chartley's heart fell underthe most wearing of all things--unoccupied solitude; but, at length,the sky grew grey, and night and darkness came on.

  Nearly an hour then passed in utter silence; and the whole houseseemed so quiet that Chartley could hardly imagine that Lord Stanleyand his train still remained there. But at the end of that time heheard a quick step, the challenge of the sentry at his door, and thenthe pass-word, "The Crown." The next instant the door opened, and LordStanley himself appeared.

  There was but slight acquaintance between him and Chartley; and hisbrow was thoughtful and anxious, boding no good, the young noblemanthought.

  "I grieve, my lord," he said, closing the door behind him, "that ithas not been in my power to see you sooner, and grieve still more tobe your jailer; but I have no choice, and better perhaps it is thatyou should fall into my hands than those of an enemy."

  "Much better," answered Chartley, courteously; "but imprisonment ishard at any time; and now I have a pass under your own hand sent me bya mutual friend. I beseech you to think of this circumstance, and notto detain me here, to my peril and great loss of time."

  Lord Stanley seemed a good deal agitated, by feelings he did notexplain; for he walked once or twice up and down the room withoutreply; and Chartley went on to say, "I have not mentioned this pass,or the letter which accompanied it, to any one, lest by so doing Imight injure you much, and a cause I have much at heart."

  Stanley approached close to him, and laid his hand upon his arm,replying with great earnestness, but in a very low tone, "My dearlord, I freely tell you, that I would let you escape within half anhour, were the danger only to myself; but the truth is, my son's lifeis in peril. The king keeps him as a hostage at the court. He is neverfor a moment out of some one's sight, and if I but trip in thehazardous path I have to tread, I am made childless in an hour. Buttell me, my good lord, how happened it that your men refused me apassage through Fazely yesterday?"

  "I know not," answered Chartley; "some foolish mistake, I suppose, forI myself was not present;" and he proceeded to relate all that hadoccurred to him since he left Fazely.

  "'Tis most unfortunate," said Stanley; "but still, till the very lastmoment, I must either obey the orders of the king, whatever they maybe, or be the murderer of my own child. If he should bid me put you instill stricter confinement, or send you on at once to him--which wereindeed ruin to my hopes for you--yet I must obey. The mere confinementhere is no great evil. Your men have by this time joined the earl ofRichmond; and though, doubtless, you would wish to lead them yourself,yet, if you lose glory, you will escape some danger and hard blows."

  "Ay, my good lord," said Chartley, "but there are other perils too.What if Richard orders you to put me to death?"

  "You must have form of trial," said Stanley.

  "None was granted to Buckingham, nor to many another I could name,"answered the young nobleman.

  "Now God forfend," cried his companion; "but yet, my lord, think whata son's life is to a father; and judge in my situation what I coulddo. Hark!" he added, "there is a horse's feet below. Perchance it isthe messenger returned. We shall soon know."

  An interval of gloomy silence succeeded, each listening with anxiousand attentive ear. They could hear some words spoken, but could notdistinguish what they were. Then came a step upon the somewhat distantstairs, and then in the passage. The sentry gave the challenge; andsome one, in a rough loud tone, demanded to speak with Lord Stanley,adding, "They say he is up here."

  Stanley instantly rose and went out, and Chartley could hear himdemand, though in a low voice, "Well, what says the king?"

  "As to the musters, my lord, he says that noon to-morrow will be timeenough," replied the same rough tone; "and as to the prisoner, hesays, 'Strike off his head before breakfast; there are proofs oftreason against him.'"

  Stanley muttered something to himself which Chartley did not hear, andthen came a pause; but at length the steps were heard receding, andLord Stanley did not again appear.

  "It is determined," said Chartley to himself. "Well, death can comebut once. What matters it, the axe, or the spear point? but yet, poorIola! This room is very hot, I shall be stifled here, and disappointthem;" and, walking to the window, he threw it open and looked out.

  The room was a cons
iderable height above the street, and to leap ordrop from it might have risked the breaking of a leg or of a neck.Nevertheless, Chartley perhaps might have tried it, but there was astill more serious impediment. Two sentinels were stationed at thedoor, and walked up and down before the house, passing and repassingbeneath his window. There were numerous groups, too, talking togetherin the narrow road, notwithstanding the darkness of the night, which,though fair and starlit, was quite moonless. A lantern passed alongfrom time to time, and Chartley easily conceived that there would notbe much repose in Atherston till dawn. The hope of escape faded.

  In a few minutes the sound of horses' feet was heard at some distance.They came nearer and nearer, and Chartley could just see the figuresof three mounted men ride up to the house, and there draw in the rein.

  The foremost, without dismounting, asked the sentry, "Is the LordStanley quartered here?"

  "Yes," replied the man; "but he is gone to repose, I think."

  "Tell him I am a messenger from his brother, bringing news ofimportance, which must be delivered to himself alone," said the other.

  As he spoke he began to dismount slowly; and while one of the two menwho accompanied him took the bridle, the third sprang with greatalacrity to hold the stirrup, showing, as Chartley thought, reverencesomewhat extraordinary for a mere messenger. The soldier at the doorcalled out somebody from within, who seemed to be a domestic servantof Lord Stanley's; and the moment the man beheld the messenger's face,he said, "Oh, come in, sir, come in. My lord will see you instantly."The stranger followed him into the house, while his two companionswalked his horse up and down the road.

  About half an hour elapsed ere the messenger came out again; and then,springing on his horse at once, he rode away at a quick pace.

  A few minutes after this, Chartley's dark reveries were interrupted bytwo men bringing in a truckle bed, for there had been none in the roombefore. One of them was a servant of the inn, whom the young lord knewwell by sight, and had been kind to. The man, however, took not theleast notice of him, any more than if he had been a stranger; and,saying to himself, "Fortune changes favour," the young nobleman turnedto the window again.

  A minute or two sufficed to set up the bed in its place; and then theservant of the inn said to the other man, "Go fetch the blankets andthe pillow; they are at the end of the passage, I think."

  The moment he was gone and the door closed, the man started forwardand kissed Lord Chartley's hand.

  "Comfort, comfort, my lord," he said. "The headsman may sharpen hisaxe, but it is not for you. Look under the pillow when I am gone; keepyour window open, and watch. But do not be rash nor in haste. Waittill you have a signal;" and then, starting back to his place, hebegan to stretch the cross bars of the bed out a little farther.

  A minute or two after, the other man returned loaded with bedding,which was soon disposed in order; but just as they were retiringagain, the servant of the inn seemed to see something amiss about thepillow, and returned for an instant to put it straight, after whichthe two left the room together. The key was turned, the bolt was shot,and Chartley, putting his hand under the pillow, drew forth a billet,folded and sealed. It bore no address, and contained but few words.They were as follows:

  "The sentinels at the gate will be removed at midnight. Blankets andsheets have made ropes before now; and a grey horse, whose speed youknow, stands half a mile down the road. Turn to the right after yourdescent. Before you go, in justice to others, burn the pass and theletter which came with it; and, if you understand these directions,extinguish your light at eleven."

  "Who could the letter come from?" Chartley asked himself. "It wasneither the handwriting nor the composition of an inn chamberlain,that was clear," and, taking out the pass, he compared the writing ofthe two. There was a very great similarity.

  Chartley's heart beat high again, but, as he gazed upon the twopapers, the clock struck ten. "Two long hours!" he thought, "two longhours!" How wearisome seemed the passing of the time. But it did pass;and when he calculated that eleven o'clock was drawing near, heapproached the pass to the flame of the lamp. It caught and burned;but ere the whole was consumed, there came across the prisoner's minda doubt--a suspicion. It was the only hold he had upon Lord Stanley; apaper which proved that nobleman had connived at his march to join theearl of Richmond; a paper which he dared not order to be taken fromhim by force lest it should discover its own secret. The next instant,however, nobler thoughts succeeded. "Away, injurious suspicions!" hesaid, and, casting the paper down upon the floor, he suffered it toconsume, and then trampled out the sparks with his foot. The letterfrom Richmond, which had accompanied it, shared the same fate; andthen he waited and watched for the stroke of eleven. It was longerthan he had thought it would be; and at length he began to fancy thatthe clock had stopped.

  Presently after there was a stroke of the hammer on the bell; another,and another, and another. The tale was complete, and he blew out thelight. Then, placing himself at the window, he watched. The road wasnow nearly deserted. In a house opposite there was a candle burning,but it was extinguished in a few minutes. A small body of soldierspassed along with measured tramp. Next came a drunken man, brawlingand shouting till his voice was lost in the distance. A deep silentpause succeeded. Chartley could have counted the beatings of his ownheart. Then a man passed by, singing a low plaintive air in a sweetvoice, and his footfalls sounded as if he were somewhat lame. Afterthat there was another longer pause, and all was still again. Thencame a little noise in a distant part of the inn, which soon subsided,and silence reigned supreme. It lasted long; and Chartley, thinkingthe hour must be near, tied the clothing of the bed together, andfastened the end to a hook and bar fixed into the wall for the purposeof suspending a sconce. It was but a frail support for the weight of astrong man; but he thought, "It will break the fall at least." Whenthat was done, he sat down in the window seat again, and watched. Oh,the slow minutes, how they dragged along. At length the clock strucktwelve, and still the sentinels paced up and down. Three minutes hadperhaps elapsed, though to him they seemed many; and then the greatdoor of the inn opened, and a voice said, "Guard dismissed! quarters,twenty-two. Roll call at dawn!"

  There was a clatter of arms, and then side by side the soldiersmarched up the town. He waited till their tramp could no more beheard, then put his head to the door of the room, and listened. Someone was breathing heavily without, as if in sleep. Approaching thewindow softly, he drew forward the end of the sort of rope he hadformed, cast it over, and mounted on the window seat. Then, holdingfast with both hands, he contrived to grasp one of the knots with hisfeet, and slid part of the way down. He loosened one hand, then theother, and then freed his feet. Still the hook and bar held firm, anda moment after his feet touched the ground.

  There was a light burning in a room below, but no one stirred; and,passing quietly all along the front of the house, he soon acceleratedhis pace, and, almost at a run, reached the verge of the little town.

  The moon peeped up above the edge of the slope, and Chartley lookedeagerly forward. There seemed some dark object under a group of treesabout three hundred yards in advance. He thought it looked like ahorse, but as he came nearer he saw two, and paused for an instant;but the moment after came a low sweet whistle, like the note of abird, and he went on.

  Beneath the shade of the trees he found his own horse and anotherstanding, and a man holding the bridles of both. With a wild feelingof liberty Chartley, without putting foot in stirrup, vaulted on thenoble beast's back; and it gave a neigh of joy, as if it felt that itslord was free again.

  Then, drawing forth his purse, the young nobleman would have rewardedthe man who held the charger; but, in a voice Chartley seemed to know,he said, "Wait, my lord, wait, I go with you to guide you. You go toTamworth, is it not?"

  "To Lichfield, to Lichfield," said Chartley; and he spurred on uponthe road which he knew right well. They rode on, the man followingsome way behind, till Atherston was left afar, and the chance ofpursuit became less
and less. At the distance of about four miles fromthe little town, Chartley was overtaken by his follower, who had puthis horse into a gallop, to catch the fleeter beast which the youngnobleman was riding.

  "To the left, my lord," he said, "to the left, if you must needs toLichfield, though the earl's army is at Tamworth. The small bridlepaths save us a mile and a half, and will not be bad now."

  "Who are you?" asked Chartley, turning his horse into a narrow lane,to which the man pointed. "I know your voice, surely."

  "Poor Sam the piper," answered the man, "though now rich, and nolonger the piper. Now you marvel how I should have been pitched uponto guide you; but that is soon explained. I was sent over by one youknow well, to bear some news to the Lord Stanley, and there I heardwhat was likely to befall you. I would have found means to get youout, if Heaven had not put it in the good lord's mind to be kindlyhimself; but as I was recommended to him as a man of discretion, whocould be trusted, and as I caught a glance of the good earl ofRichmond going in, and told the Lord Stanley so, he might think thatit would be well to employ me in what would put me out of the way."

  "The good earl of Richmond!" exclaimed Chartley; "has he been with theLord Stanley?"

  "Ay, this very night," replied the other, "with nought but two groomsin company, which shows that he knows his game is very sure."

  Chartley mused as he sped onward; for though few doubted, except theone who might have been expected to doubt most, that secretintelligence existed between Richmond and his step-father, yet theyoung nobleman had not imagined so bold a step as a personalconference would be ventured by either.

  It was still dark when he arrived at Lichfield; and Chartley spentmore than half an hour in awakening the sleepy ostlers from theirbeds, and obtaining some accommodation at the principal inn, for therewere, at that time, two in the good town. No information could heprocure either regarding Iola or his men; for there had been so manypersons passing to and fro within the last eight-and-forty hours, thatno description served to distinguish one from another. There was nolady lodging in the inn, however, one of the ostler's assured him,except "the fat canoness of Salisbury;" and as to the troops, they hadall marched out of the town, and gone to Tamworth. Forced to besatisfied with this small intelligence, Chantey gave orders that hisgood guide should be well taken care of, and that he himself should beawakened at sunrise; and he then cast himself down upon a bed. For thegreater part of two nights and two days he had not closed an eye; and,notwithstanding much love and some anxiety, drowsiness overpowered himin a moment; the many busy thoughts which were whirling through hisbrain grew confused and indistinct, and he slept.

  From a deep, dead, heavy slumber, he woke with a start, and gazedaround. The room was full of light. Sounds of busy life madethemselves heard on all sides. There was a girl crying water-cressesin the street, and people laughing and talking in the full-day bustleof the world, while a creaking wood-cart wended slowly along, singingits complaining song. It was evident that he had been forgotten; and,going to the door, he called loudly for the chamberlain.

  The man declared that he knew not any one was sleeping in that room,but informed him it was well nigh ten o'clock, which was confirmed themoment after by the church clock striking. No other information couldhe afford, but that no lady was in the house, except the fat canoness;and Chartley instantly set out to inquire at the other inn. There hewas likewise disappointed; and to every place where he was likely togain intelligence he went in vain. We all know how much time may beoccupied in such searches; and at that period Lichfield was full ofmonasteries and convents, at each of which Chartley applied. At onlyone of them did he gain any indication of the course of the fairfugitive. It was a small community of hospitable nuns, where thewithered portress informed him that three ladies had slept there thenight before, and she did think that one of them had come up to thegates with an odd-looking brown man.

  "We do not lodge men," she said, "and so he went somewhere else; butthe lady we took in; and she, and the servant, for so he seemed, wentaway at ten this morning."

  Chartley demanded eagerly whither they had gone; and the old sisterreplied, "To Coventry, I believe. All the three ladies went toCoventry, to get out of the way of the war; for they said there wouldbe a battle to-day. Have you heard of such a thing, young gentlemen?"

  Chartley replied he had not; but the good woman's words threw his mindupon another train of thought, and he hurried back to the inn.

  He leaned his head upon his hand, and meditated. "A battle, and I notpresent? That must never be. Yet Richmond was at Tamworth last night,and Stanley at Atherston. It can hardly have been fought. Yet it maybe ere nightfall. It is now near four; and many a field has beenfought and won, in the hours of daylight that are left." Thus hethought, and then, starting up, he called aloud, "Drawer Drawer! Bringme some wine and bread. Bid them prepare my horse instantly, and callthe man who came with me hither."

  The wine and bread were brought, and Sam was soon in the young lord'spresence.

  "Here, my good friend," said Chartley, giving him some gold. "You haveserved me well, on this and other occasions, as I learn. I will rewardyou further if I live. Now I must away to Tamworth; for I hear therewill be a battle soon, if it be not already fought; and I would not,for one half a world, be absent."

  "Nor I either, my good lord," replied Sam. "I have always prayed tosee another battle, ere I died; and now I've a good chance, which Iwill not lose. So, with your leave, I'll ride with you."

  "Be it as you like," replied Chartley. "But keep me not; for I departas soon as I have quitted my score."

  One cannot always get out of an inn, however, as soon as one likes;and in those days all things moved more slowly than they do now. Thereis nothing in which the advance of society is seen so much as infacilities; and there were few of them in Europe at that period. Menwere often a month going the distance they would now travel in twodays; and at every step of the road some drag or another was put uponthe wheels of progress. The score was five minutes in reckoning,although the items were but few. The horse was not ready when this wasdone, and more time elapsed. Both the ostlers had gone out to see aprocession of grey friars; and the bit and bridle were not to befound. In all, half an hour was consumed; and then Chartley set off,and rode to Tamworth with speed.

  When he entered the little town, all seemed solitary. The setting sunshone quietly through the deserted street. Not a cart, not a waggonwas to be seen; and a dog that came out of one of the houses, andbarked at the heels of the horses, was all the indication of lifewithin the place.

  "They have marched out, sir," said Sam, who followed him close behind;"and all the good folks have gone after them to see the sport."

  "Then there has been no battle yet," answered Chartley; "but we mustfind out which way they have gone. There is a man talking with somewomen down that road. Ride down and gather news, while I go on to theinn, the Green Dragon, there, and order some provender for thehorses."

  Before Sam returned, Chartley learned that Richmond, with his smallarmy, had marched towards Market Bosworth. "He won't get there withouta fight," said the elderly host, who had come out at his call, "forKing Richard is at the Abbey of Merrival. God help the right!"

  "Did you chance, mine host," demanded Chartley, without dismounting,"to see with the earl's army the bands of the Lord Chartley?"

  "To be sure, to be sure," answered the host. "They are joined with SirJohn Savage's men. They marched in the rearguard."

  Chartley asked their colours and ensigns; and the old man answeredreadily, showing that in reality he knew nothing about them, and,after feeding his horses, Chartley rode on towards Bosworth.

  As the young nobleman advanced, he met numerous groups of Tamworthpeople returning to the town at nightfall; and from them he obtainedinformation sufficient for his guidance. The two armies, he found,were in presence, and a battle on the following day was certain.Richard's head-quarters were at the Abbey of Merrival; but Richmondhad pitched his tent in the field. The num
ber of the king's army wasgreatly exaggerated, and many of the men shrugged their shoulders, asthey spoke of Richmond's force, evidently judging that his cause washopeless.

  "He had better have waited a day or two," said an elderly man, ridingon a cart, which had apparently conveyed some of the baggage of thearmy; "for people were flocking to him very fast; but, fighting now,he will be overwhelmed; and, if I were you, young gentleman, I wouldkeep myself from others' ill-luck."

  "I should deserve bad luck myself if I did," replied Chartley, androde on.

  Night now fell heavily; but soon after a noise began to be heard.First came a murmur, like that of the distant sea; and then, as theyoung nobleman spurred forward, louder sounds separated themselvesfrom the indistinct buzz. Voices shouting, ringing laughter, and theclang of arms were heard. Twice, too, there was the blast of atrumpet, but that was more distant; and Chartley found that he must beapproaching the rear of Richmond's host.

  Small as was the force with which the earl had landed in England, andsmall as it was still, when he encamped on Bosworth field, it had notfailed to attract, as it marched on, a number of the idle, thedissolute, and the greedy, in even a greater proportion than isusually the case. The camp was kept clear by sentinels; but, for fullhalf a mile before he could see a tent, Chartley passed throughinnumerable groups of men and women, and even children, from Tamworthand Lichfield, and as far as Shrewsbury. He had no difficulty inpassing the sentinels, however, though he had not the word; for, tosay truth, they kept no very strict watch, and his appearance waspassport sufficient.

  When he had entered the little camp he inquired for his own men invain for nearly an hour. It was too dark to see the colours, or theensigns of the different leaders, though most of them had a banner ora pennon pitched before his tent; and along the whole of the left wingof the army he passed without gaining any intelligence. At length someone told him that a body of horse, which had joined the earl atTamworth, was encamped on the extreme right, near a morass. "Therewhere you see those fires," said the man; "for they brought no tentswith them, and have cut down the apple trees in a goodman's orchard tokeep themselves warm."

  Chartley turned his horse thither, and rode on quickly; but at thefirst fire he came to, he found no faces round it which he knew; andthe men took little notice of him. As he drew near the second,however, a man who was sitting by it turned his head, and then,starting on his feet, waved his steel cap in the air, crying outaloud, "Here is my lord!"

  Instantly the whole body sprang up, with a shout of gratulation; andin a minute after the master of the young lord's household, andseveral of the leaders of his bands, had gathered round his horse.

  Chartley's first inquiries were with regard to Iola; but the accountof the master of his household satisfied him that she had taken herway to Lichfield, accompanied by Ibn Ayoub alone. He thought itstrange, indeed, that she should have gone on to Coventry; but hedoubted not that something had occurred which he knew not of, to makeher decide upon such a course. The old man went on to explain that,following the directions contained in the letter which his lord hadleft with him, the soldiers, on being expelled from Fazely by thetroops of Lord Stanley, had immediately gone to join the forces of theearl of Richmond.

  "We were in sad alarm about you, my lord," he continued; "but, thankGod, here you are safe. Would it were so with good Sir William Ardentoo."

  "Ha, have you news of him?" demanded Chartley.

  "Ay, my lord, sad news," replied the old man. "Two men, who came overto join us from the enemy, about an hour ago, tell me that he wascaught upon the road, stealing a nun from a convent; that he and hismen turned and fought like tigers, while she and a woman who was withher made their escape. I said it was nonsense, for Sir William wasalways a very sober and discreet gentleman, rather rough with histongue, but a good man at heart. One of the men, however, swears it istrue, declares that he kept guard over him himself, in the king's campout there, and that his head is to be struck off to-morrow morning,between the two armies."

  "Are the men here?" demanded Chartley.

  "Yes, my noble lord," replied the other.

  "Then bring them to me," said Chartley; and, dismounting from hishorse, he seated himself by the fire.