Chapter IV: A Finale (2)

Then she too gathered things and hurried me, and at last we were on our way to my cave. And as we went I told her how I had met with the Queen, and gave her many instructions as to the care of the hiding and the like, that I might have the less to say in the Queen's presence. It was a long way, and the day was breaking when we came there, and the Queen answered from within to the call of my own name.

Now how those two met I can hardly say, for I told the Queen whom I had brought as I opened the cave mouth, and when I saw the look of thanks she gave me, and saw Annot fall on her knees and kiss her hand, I turned away with a sort of lump in my throat, for even that night alone in the place that was home to me had brought a look to the face of Margaret of Anjou that was terrible.

So I went aside a little way and sat down until Annot called me, and then went back and spoke long with her and the Queen. All that we said need not be set down, nor how the Queen mourned over the news that I must needs give her. But the end of it all was that I was to seek out the Sire de Brezè, the leader of her Angevin levies, and bring him here. She could be patient now with Annot to cheer her.

Therefore I went all day among our outlaws, hearing what they knew of the flight, and at last heard of De Brezè, as the foreigner who had passed through the forest. Then I saw the march of the Yorkist army from Hexham towards the coast, and my heart grew lighter for their going. None had seen Cork that day, and so he had not been scouring the wood, but presently I went to the place where the Queen had been robbed, and the waggon was yet in the lane, empty. Cork and his men must have gone away with the plunder.

I went into Hexham at nightfall, and the place was in confusion and wretchedness. There were many who had been plundered of all, and I learnt without going to the market-place that Annot's uncle was indeed slain. The tavern had been wrecked, but no worse, though they told me that several men had lost their lives in the riot before the provost marshal had ended it too late.

Now as I passed down a lane on my way back to the forest, I came suddenly on two men who sat under a hedge, and I heard a word or two of their talk before they saw me. They were not speaking English, and at once I hoped that I had found some of De Brezè's men. So I gave them good-night, using passwords that the Queen had taught me--words that spoke of hope to the cause of the red rose if a man knew them--made in troubles like these two years ago.

"Good-even, friends. One had wished for a brighter sunset."

"Ay, but the morn may be redder," one answered in good English enough.

"A red morning is a sign of storm," I said, passing on.

"A storm is needed to clear the air," he replied; "then the rose may bloom once more."

With that the two leapt up and followed me, and when they caught me up they passed another word or two for certainty, and then spoke freely enough. Then I learnt that I had met with none other than De Brezè himself and his squire Varennes, who had come back to seek their lost Queen, leaving their few followers in some nook of the hills to wait their return.

What their joy was when they heard all that I had to tell them, and how they met the Queen, is beyond my writing; but I had heavy news for poor Annot, which filled my thoughts now that the care of the Queen seemed to be shifted from my shoulders for a little.

She bore them very bravely, having made up her mind for the worst, and she told me that now she would bide with the Queen as long as she had need of her. I had promised the same to De Brezè, for I could guide the flight across the moors well, and so I was content, for I should be at hand to help Annot if need was, while doubtless the Queen would find her some place in a great house in Scotland, were she asked.

Now Varennes went to his men presently and all was planned well, so that in the grey of the next morning we rode safely northwards, joining presently the Duke of Exeter, and some other nobles with their men, thus making a strong party against any attack. And even as I thought that all was well, there rose one shadow to dim my content, though I hardly knew why.

Across the moor rode toward us one man, who hastened to put a stretch of boggy land between us and him before he met us, and that was natural enough in that place and time, so that we paid no heed to him. But, as we passed nearer, I knew him, and it was Cork himself; and I thought, as he reined up and stared after us, that he recognised the Queen as his captive, and that what he had found in the waggon had told him whom he had lost. I said nothing, however, for we had no time to waste in chasing him, and I could not see what harm he could do, since, ride as hard as he might, he could not bring any force on us in time to stay our passing the border. Yet, as I say, he brought me a feeling as of ill omen, and I was uneasy until we could see him no longer. I thought that he lingered as if watching us, though indeed one might have wondered if any man did not do so.

Now our journey was safe and unhindered, and well was I thanked for my guidance. I thought that I should be dismissed when we reached Scotland, but the Queen herself asked me if I would not remain in her service, taking my place as a Barvill should among her gentlemen-at-arms, for she would prove that she was not ungrateful for what I had done for her and the prince. And one may suppose that I gladly did so, the more willingly that I should be near Annot, if the truth is told.

Thus, for good or ill, my fortunes were cast in with Margaret of Anjou, and I thought that my troubles were over.

Maybe one may say that they were, for the trouble to come yet was the Queen's, and though I had part in it, that is a different matter to being an outlaw on one's own account. Outlaw, as it were, in truth our poor mistress was yet, but in sharing her distress was truest honour.

For no sooner were we over the border than we learnt that all that the Queen could hope for was to be unnoticed at the most. The surrender of Berwick, that should have made Scotland her lasting friend, had been forgotten in new treaties made with York, and she was warned that she might even be given up to him. So we rode westward along the border until we came to Kirkcudbright, where the Queen had been in hiding before, and there bided in poor lodgings enough as nothing more than a noble Lancastrian lady with her household. None knew her to be the Queen, but even were she to be recognised, we supposed that the Scots king would hear no more than he knew already of her whereabouts.

So resting there we passed a quiet week, and then one day as I wandered on the town quay, watching the vessels alongside, the remembrance of Cork was brought back to me by the walk and bearing of a man who was boarding a small trading buss. His back was towards me, and he seemed to be a seaman altogether, but, I suppose because the thought of Cork was always unpleasant to me, I asked who yon man might be, and was told that he was master of the buss, and given his name also. So I was somewhat angry with myself for letting such a ruffian as my former acquaintance trouble my mind at all, and thought no more of him.

That evening I went in attendance on De Brezè beyond the town to the house of a friend of the cause, in order to learn whether there were any better tidings for the Queen from Edinburgh. There were none, and we walked back to the town by the same roads we had passed in going, which is a thing that an outlaw learns not to do, for plain reasons enough. It was not very dark, and the road was not lonely as we came near the town, for two men struck it from a by-path, and remained some fifty yards behind us, talking and laughing freely, so that we thought them lively company.

Just where the street down which we passed comes to the quay it grows narrow, and at the corner house three men were quarrelling in a half-drunken sort of way. However, they stumbled aside as we came near them, and lest I should oblige my leader to pass too close to them, I dropped back a pace or two, and we went quickly. Then one of the men seemed to push another, and sent him falling right across de Brezè's feet, causing him to stumble heavily. I sprang forward to save him from the fall, and in a moment was down also, with the weight of several men on me. The two men had run up from behind us and had thrown me. I shouted, and tried to reach my dagger, but I was pinioned and gagged quickly, and De Brezè was being treated in the same way.

Then the men set us on our feet, and the first man my eyes lit on was Cork himself. He did not know me because half my face was covered with a thick cloth, and besides that I no longer wore the wild hair and beard of the forest. Then I knew that it was indeed he whom I had seen this morning, and now we were in his hands and helpless, as his men dragged us across the quay and to his vessel. The place was deserted, for the townsfolk did not love late hours.

They took us on board the buss, and half threw us into a small ill-smelling fore-peak under the high forecastle, through a low door under the break of the deck and down three steps. Bound as I was, I stumbled and could not save myself, and so fell headlong, with De Brezè on me. My head came heavily against a timber, and that was all I knew for a time.

When I came round I was free so far as bonds were concerned, but I was in the same place, and De Brezè was beside me, in the dark. The vessel was certainly at sea, and making her way against a light head-wind, for though she was steady she went about and rolled me against my comrade. Whereat I asked pardon.

"Why, that is well," he answered in a low voice, "for your senses have suffered no hurt. I thought your neck might be broken, for when I had managed to wrench my own bonds off and free you, you never stirred. Now, what may all this mean? We put to sea directly after we were taken, and have been out of harbour for two hours or so."

I told him what I knew of Cork, and then it seemed plain to us that he had trapped us for the sake of the price that was on our heads, that for De Brezè's taking being very great, as one might suppose. We should therefore be on our way to England, which was no pleasant thought, considering the fate of so many of the Queen's best followers. I think it likely that I was taken for Varennes, who was far more valuable, as one might say, than myself.

"Why, then," said De Brezè, "they will come presently and offer us our freedom if we will promise to behave ourselves. Then we may see if anything can be done to make the bargain not all on one side, as we have the use of our hands already."

I saw what he meant, and we began to plan many ways of surprising our captors. It seemed as well to be slain in making a bold try for liberty as to be given up to York to be beheaded. But we must wait for daylight, and so we tried to sleep in turns, though I do not know if either of us did so.

Presently the sun rose, and the light streamed through the chinks of the bulkhead that closed the break of the deck, and I crept to one of them and looked aft. There were but three men to be seen, one of whom was Cork, and another the helmsman on the high poop. Cork and the third man were on the main deck, leaning against the rail that was all the bulwark that went round the waist, and both were armed. How many more men there might be I could not tell, but the vessel was small, and I thought that the five who had taken us might be the whole crew. De Brezè came and peered out also.

"So far there are only two to one," he said, "for the helmsman cannot leave his place. If we can settle with these two with a rush the rest comes easily enough. But where shall we find weapons?"

All that I could see were the sweeps of the vessel, twenty-foot oars that rested on chocks amidships and were not lashed. I pointed these out, saying that one might handle them well as one uses a border spear, and at that De Brezè made up his mind.

"They thought us so well bound that the door is only latched," he said with a chuckle. "Are you ready?"

"At your word," I answered.

"Well, then, I go first and take an oar from the right side of the mast and make for the right-hand man. Do you take the left, and then we shall clear one another."

He turned up his long sleeves, shook hands with me, and was out through the low door in a moment with myself at his heels, and we had the long oars in our hands and were charging the two men before they knew that we were not some of their own crew. Then Cork shouted and drew his sword, making for me just as my comrade's levelled weapon struck his man fairly in the chest, so that he doubled up with a howl and was hurled under the rail into the sea. Perhaps the sudden shifting of the deck as the helmsman threw the vessel's head into the wind put me out, for I missed Cork, and in a moment he was inside my guard, and I had hard work for a time to keep away from his sword, using the oar as a quarter-staff.

Then I got a fair blow at him from aloft, and that ended all scores between me and him in good time, for De Brezè was fighting two more men who had come on deck from a forward hatch. He had the sword of the first man he had set on, and one might see that he was a master of the weapon.

Two to one was unfair, however, and I thought that the helmsman might take part, so I swept one of these two overboard with a lucky swing of the oar, and de Brezè ended the matter with the other at once. Whereon the helmsman cried for quarter, and it was plain that there were no more men on board. Then as De Brezè and I looked at one another, the door of the cabin under the high poop opened, and in it, frightened and pale, stood Annot herself. She gave a little cry of relief when she saw me, and I sprang towards her.

"What is it all, Richard?" she said, using my name for the first time thus.

"How are you here?" I answered.

But before either of us had replied, a stately figure crossed the rough threshold of the cabin, and the Queen herself was before me, looking on the bodies of the slain with disdainful eyes, in which was no fear, for the field of battle was not new to her.

"There is ever hope for the Red Rose while I have such arms to strike for me," she said, as De Brezè and I knelt before her in wonder.

Then we learnt that almost as soon as we were taken both Queen and prince had been decoyed from the house by some crafty message purporting to come from a dying Lancastrian who would fain see them before he passed. Varennes had gone to Edinburgh to seek for tidings of the king, and so taking only Annot with her, the Queen had gone out, only to be seized and hurried on board the buss, which had at once put to sea. Doubtless Cork had meant to take his captives to England for the sake of the great reward that would be his, but if my forebodings concerning him were justified, he had met his deserts at my hand.

Then we made the helmsman put about, and were soon back in harbour with the light breeze that had kept the vessel in sight of land in our favour.

Now in a few days Varennes returned, and it was plain that no help could be looked for from Scotland, nor was it known where the king was for many a long day. Then we must wander from place to place in hiding always, until at last, on a short sea passage on the east coast, stress of storm took us to Flanders, and then came the end of troubles, for though the Duke Of Burgundy was a foe, he was a noble one, and sent our Queen home to her own people in Angers in all honour, at last.

Here I and Annot my wife serve her yet, looking back with content to the troubled days when we first learnt to love one another. For if it must be that we shall not see England again, our home is where the Queen is, and that is enough, and has been so since we served her for the first time in the cave under the shadow of the Hexham moors.

"A FLIGHT FROM JUSTICE;" _OR, HOW I BECAME A LIGHT DRAGOON_

BY LIEUT.-COL. PERCY GROVES, ROYAL GUERNSEY ARTILLERY (LATE 27TH INNISKILLINGS)