Sir Ludar Part 8

I swallowed my wrath and obeyed him. He stalked impatiently at my side, saying nothing, but urging me forward so that I could scarcely keep pace with him. I was in luck, in one way, to have his escort; for as I came near the East Bridge, there lurked not a few of the townsmen who had been in the fight when I a.s.saulted the Mayor. Seeing me with Master Penry, who, I suppose, was a man of some standing, they did not look twice at me; else I might have been caught, and put to rest my limbs in the cage. When we had crossed the bridge, and were in the country, my companion suddenly stopped.

"This friend of yours," said he, "with the dirk in his girdle. Was he a scholar?"

"He lent me this gown," said I.

"An Irishman?"

"I know not. He spoke good English, with a foreign trip of the tongue."

"A great big boy, with wild fair hair, and hands that never are still?"

"The very man. You know him?"

"Do I know him? For two months I have endured the pains of the lost through him. A wild, untameable savage, subject to no laws, a heathen, a butcher, a scoffer at things holy, an idler, a highwayman, a traitor, a rebel, an Irish Papist wolf-hound! Do I know my own pupil? And--oh my G.o.d!--is it he who has the coat? Oh, we are doubly lost! Knaves, fools, all conspire to ruin us!"

I let him run on, for he was like one demented. But you may suppose I opened my eyes as I heard this brave character of my new friend.

"Your pupil, is he?" said I at last; "then I counsel you to stay where you are; for he will a.s.suredly eat you alive if he gets you."

The Welshman paid no head to this warning, but rushed on, jabbering in Welsh to himself, and groaning, ay, and even sobbing now and then in his excitement.

At last, after an hour's hard work, we came to where I had found the road that morning. Then, for another hour, I dragged him through the swamps and marshes. His strength had begun to fail him long ere we reached the river's bank; and he was fain, when at last we felt solid earth under our feet, to cry a halt.

"I must rest for one moment," said he, puffing and panting and clutching at his side in a way that made me sorry for him. Then he fell on his knees and prayed in his own tongue, and before he was done, sunk half- fainting on a tree-trunk.

"Master Penry," said I, helping him from the ground, "you are not fit to go on. I pray you, let me go alone. This pupil of yours is my friend, and will give me the cloak. Stay here, unless you would spoil all; for a.s.suredly if he see you, he will turn at bay and yield nothing. The inn is but a mile from here. In less than an hour I will be back with the cloak, that I vow."

He had no strength in him to protest. So I left him there and ran on towards the inn.

CHAPTER FIVE.

HOW I PARTED WITH MY CLOAK.

My mind was all in confusion as I hurried forward to the river-side inn.

Everything seemed to be going wrong with me, and I wished heartily I was back in London with my fellow 'prentices, and my kind mistress, and the sweet Jeannette. They, at least, believed in me; but here, everyone with one consent conspired to tell me I was but a fool. I had made myself a laughing-stock at Maidenhead; I had been pinned up against the wall, by a boy my own age, in this place; I had a.s.saulted a Mayor at Oxford; I had parted with my cloak, which contained life and death in the lining of it, to a stranger; and more than all, I had given my love to a fellow who, if the Welshman was right, was a horrible traitor and Papist! A fine piece of work, verily, and little wonder if my conceit was somewhat abated after it all!

Yet, as I ran on, I thought more about my wild friend at the inn, than about any one else. I could hardly believe him to be a rogue; although all that the Welshman said of him tallied with my own observation. Nay, more, to my dismay, I found by my heart that even were he all the rogue he was painted, I could scarcely bring myself to like him the less.

"At least," thought I, "if he be a knave, he is an honest one; and my cloak will be safe with him."

As I came to the inn, which I had scarcely yet seen by daylight, it seemed gayer and more bustling that I had found it last night. Three brave horses stood saddled and bridled at the door, and voices of good cheer from within showed me that mine host was having some little custom for his sack. I wondered if my solemn scholar was of the party, or whether, the better to avoid detection, he still lay abed.

As I entered, I recognised the chief of the four men who sat at the table as my friend the Bishop's man, whom I had met on the road two days ago, but whom, as well as my promise to meet him to-day, I had since clean forgotten. He hailed me gaily, as if he expected me.

"Welcome, lad; you are a man of your word. I knew you would come. Come and join us, there is brave sport afoot."

I coloured up, to be thus commended for what I did not merit.

"Indeed," said I, "I--I am glad to meet you again, but--but (how I stammered), just now I am looking for my friend."

"What! Have you not done your errand?" said he. "You told me it was in Oxford."

"It was. I have done it--but I left a friend here. Mine host," said I, turning to the man of the place, "is my comrade astir yet?"

The host crammed his ap.r.o.n in his mouth to keep in a laugh.

"Astir! Sir Ludar astir! I warrant thee half the bucks in Shotover Wood are astir too before now."

"What!" said I, my face falling suddenly, "is he gone then?"

"An hour since; and by your leave, young sir," added mine host, "I would take leave to remind your grandeur that the score of last night's supper, and a trifle my lord took for his breakfast, with the shoeing and meat of the horse, and the price of your night's lodging, awaits your n.o.ble acquittance."

"Gone!" cried I, not heeding all the rest. "And did he leave aught for me?"

"I doubt not he left his blessing, but nothing else."

"But my cloak, he had my cloak."

"If he have it not still, ay, and the nag too, it will be because he has met a stronger man than ever I saw yet on earth," said mine host.

"But the cloak!" roared I, "that cloak had papers in it; it was--"

Here the Bishop's man put down his mug and p.r.i.c.ked up his ears.

"Which way did he go?" cried I. "Saddle me my horse. I must overtake him or all is lost."

"Papers?" said the Bishop's man. "What sort of papers, prithee?"

"I know not," said I. "Oh, that cursed cloak!"

"Harkee, my lad," said the man sternly, "answer me two questions, if you will."

He laid hold of my arm, and looked so menacing that I was fairly taken aback.

"And if I do not," said I, as I began suddenly to see what it all led to.

"Then in the Queen's name I shall know what to do with you," said he, beckoning to his three men, who rose and approached me.

I was fairly in a corner now, for a man who held the Queen's warrant was not one lightly to be resisted. Yet what could I tell him?

"Let me hear your questions," said I, as civilly as I could, and edging a little towards the door, "perhaps I can answer them."

"That's a wise lad," said he, mollified, "I know you are but a tool-- men, stand back there--I blame you not for doing your duty, but you must tell me here, the name of the man, your master, who sent you this errand, and the name of him to whom you bore it."

"I can tell you neither," said I.

He turned to his men, but before they could rise, I had rushed to the door and was outside. A key stood in the outside of the lock, which mine host used to turn and take with him when business called him to leave his inn empty. I had just time to turn this and vault on one of the three horses, when the window was flung open and the leader of the band sprang on to the cas.e.m.e.nt.