The Coming of the King Part 33

"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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sing 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 hoa.r.s.ely.

"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."