*CHAPTER IX.*
_*AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.*_
The troop of horsemen made their way out of the wood, and soonafterwards, riding down the romantic glen of Millbrook, reached theBedford valley. They were now on the road to Elstow, and nearingBedford itself; but as they approached the town, an incident occurredwhich changed the direction of De Breaute's route.
The cavalcade were hurrying along, as their leader was anxious to gethis prisoners safe into the castle ere the town-folk should be aware oftheir capture. For although the burgesses of Bedford had by this timebeen sufficiently cowed by the Robber Baron and his men, and were by nomeans unaccustomed to seeing prisoners swept off into the "devil'snest," as they called his castle, yet it was more satisfactory that theimpounding should be done without any fuss or disturbance.
So through the little village of Elstow clattered the horsemen, theirarms and accoutrements ringing as they went. The village peoplerecognized with a shudder the soldiers from Bedford Castle. They weremostly retainers of the abbey, and they crossed themselves devoutly anduttered a prayer as the enemies and spoilers of the church rode by.They scarcely noted the unfortunate judge who was being jolted along intheir midst at a pace so different from that at which he usuallytravelled, and who
"Little thought when he set out Of running such a rig."
Increasing their pace, the hurrying troop scattered the wayfarers rightand left. The inhabitants fled into their houses; the peasants draggedtheir beasts and carts into the ditches. All knew that there could bethe servants of but one man who would ride through the country in thisfashion.
But as they passed the abbey gate, De Breaute and his men, in theirheadlong career, charged full tilt into a small party of riders justturning out of the archway.
This knot of travellers seemed in no wise disposed to give De Breaute'shorsemen more than their fair share of the road, and did not draw asideinto the hedge, after the manner of the peasants. The two foremost ofthe little company were an elderly and dignified ecclesiastic, and ayoung and graceful lady whose wimple and riding-hood concealed her face.The old priest, encumbered with his ecclesiastical habit, was unable toresist the impetus with which the armed party bore down upon thedefenceless travellers. Too late, he drew rein aside; but the ponderouswar-horse of the foremost man-at-arms struck his palfrey full on theflank, and rolled both horse and rider to the ground.
The mass of horsemen, rushing in wedge shape, separated the priest fromhis companion, and the latter was forced to the opposite side of theroad. She was either quicker, more skilful, or better mounted than wasthe elderly ecclesiastic; for not only did she turn her horse aside justat the right moment and avoid an imminent collision, but putting him atthe boundary hedge which bordered the road, cleared it in a style whichshowed her to possess the hand and seat of a first-rate horsewoman.
The unexpected encounter caused a sudden and confused halt to DeBreaute's party, and their leader was able to give a by no means pleasedlook at those who, by no fault of their own, but by reason of thefurious onrush of his own men, had unintentionally impeded his progress.But when once he had glanced at the bold horsewoman escaping by her leapfrom the confused throng, he hardly deigned to notice the prostratepriest striving to extricate himself from his dangerous position. Foras her horse cleared the obstacle, the riding-hood, which concealed thefeatures of the rider, fell back upon her shoulders, and revealed to hisastonished gaze the lovely face of Aliva de Pateshulle.
In a moment his brother's orders were all forgotten. Even had herecognized Martin de Pateshulle in the dismounted horseman, it is notlikely he would have paused to capture him. But shouting to two of hismen to follow him, he turned quickly round, and putting spurs to hishorse, rode after the retreating figure at the top of his speed.
His leaderless party pulled themselves together, so to speak, and gazedafter the pursued and the pursuer till they vanished round the corner ofthe abbey walls. They gave vent to a few coarse jests over theirmaster's disappearance, and then the senior among them took upon himselfthe command of the party. He turned to the unlucky priest, whom hisservants had now raised from under his fallen steed. Martin dePateshulle--for it was he--had evidently been severely injured, and layprostrate in his attendants' arms. In reply to the soldier's questionsthey told that their master was the Archdeacon of Northampton, and thelady his niece. Had they mentioned his name, it is possible the troopermight have recognized that of one of the justices they had sallied outto seize. But as it was, deeply imbued with a soldier's notion ofimplicit obedience to orders before all things, he thought only ofconveying the prisoner he had already made with all speed to Bedford.Even Henry de Braybrooke, whom his guard had removed to a littledistance from the scene of the accident, could only learn that it was anold priest who had been injured, ere he was again hurried off in thedirection of the Robber Baron's castle.
Meanwhile, the grooms who had picked up the archdeacon proceeded tocarry him, moaning with pain, back to the abbey they had just left. Invain the unhappy priest conjured them to leave him to his fate, and tohasten after his niece, as soon as he realized that she was beingpursued by De Breaute.
With one exception, none seemed inclined to obey their master,protesting that it was their first duty to see his injuries attended towithin the abbey walls.
That exception was our fat friend Dicky Dumpling, who had been of theparty, in attendance on his young mistress. He, too, had been rolledover; but no sooner had he picked himself up out of the mire and learnedthat she had fled, than his distress was great.
"Alack! alack!" he cried. "Chased by that young French popinjay, sayyou? Oh, woe the day! He came a-wooing her that day the gallant SirRalph rode over, and he departed with his beauty marred, theserving-maid doth say--but women have such long tongues! Oh, my haplessyoung lady! I must after her to her succour!"
"Thou Dickon!" gasped one of his fellows,--"with thy feather weight, tosay nothing of that good dinner of beef and ale in the porter's lodge."
"And thy nag's good browse in the abbey stables," put in another."Think you he is a match for the knight's war-horse?"
"Alack! alack!" moaned worthy Dicky; "my heart misgives me sore. Butbring me my horse, lads, and find me my cap. With good St. Dunstan'said I will do my best. Give me a leg up, lads, and Dobbin and I willafter her as long as there is a breath left in our bodies!"