CHAPTER XVI
The king and his party rode on to Clipstone Palace. The attendant towhom the spy had been consigned hastily summoned a bailiff, to whom hemade over his charge, and then galloped off to overtake the party. AndWalter Skinner, hardly understanding what had come to pass, was leftbehind in Newark.
The king had thought to spend a week of pleasure at Clipstone, but theintelligence brought by the spy changed his plans. Of all his barons hehated Lord De Aldithely most. He would have struck at him more quicklyand forcibly but for Lord De Aldithely's great popularity, and his ownsomewhat cowardly fear. And now here was the son escaped. And suddenlythe evil temper of the king blazed forth so that his attendants, in sofar as they dared, shrank from him.
The king waited not to reach Clipstone, but turning to two of hisattendants he said: "Go thou, De Skirlaw, and thou, De Kellaw, to DeAldithely Castle. Put spurs to your horses and tarry not. See what iscome to pass and bring me word again."
De Skirlaw and De Kellaw galloped off; and the king, shortly aftercoming to Clipstone, entered his private apartments and excluded theparty from them.
"There is treachery somewhere," he said to himself, aloud, "and theguilty shall not escape me. Why, what is this Josceline but a boy offourteen? And what is his mother but a woman? And do they both bidsuccessful defiance to me, the king? I will have their castle down overtheir heads, and no counsels shall longer prevent me from doing it.Without the boy and his mother the father is sure aid to Louis. Andwhere De Aldithely goeth, there goeth victory."
"Nay, not alway, my liege," responded a voice.
The king started, and turned to see one of his courtiers, more boldthan the rest, who had quietly entered the chamber.
"I knew not of thy presence, De Kirkham," he said. "What sayest thou?"
"I say that victory is not alway with De Aldithely since he is afugitive and his son a wanderer, and his castle in thy power."
"True. Thou sayest true," responded the king, after a pause. "Thou dostever bolster up my failing courage. And I will have this silly boy, ifthe madman I did put in custody spake true. Yea, I will have him,though I set half England on the chase. His father is my enemy. Andshall the son defy me? I will hale him to a dungeon, and so I tellthee, De Kirkham."
It was not a long ride to De Aldithely castle for those who needneither skulk nor hide, and the messengers of the king were at Selbyere nightfall. Here they determined to rest and go on the next morning.They heard no news in the town; nor did they see anything until theycame to the castle itself. Birds of prey were screaming above the moatnear the postern, and there was a stillness about the place that wouldhave argued desertion if the flag had not still floated from one of thetowers.
"I like not this stillness," said De Skirlaw.
"It hath a menacing air," observed De Kellaw.
A while the two waited in the outskirts of the wood near the clearedplace about the castle. Then said De Skirlaw, "I go forward boldly tothe bridge and summon the warder in the king's name."
"I go with thee," agreed De Kellaw.
So briskly the two rode forth from the shelter of the wood and up tothe entrance, where De Skirlaw loudly wound his horn. But there was noresponse. He wound it again. And still there came no answer.
"Seest thou no man upon the walls?" asked De Skirlaw, scanning theheights with eyes somewhat near-sighted.
"I see no one," responded the hawk-eyed De Kellaw.
"Let us skirt the castle," proposed De Skirlaw, after a short pause.
"I am ready," responded De Kellaw.
Then together the two began their tour of examination. And the firstthing they noted was the dam which William Lorimer and his men hadconstructed, and which the old warder had broken before he himselfwandered forth from the castle, thus letting the water which had filledthe rear part of the moat escape. From this point they rode back towardthe entrance and, looking down into the moat, saw that it was dry.Turning again toward the postern, they noted the drawbridge there, andwondered to see it down. "The postern gate is also ajar," observed DeKellaw. The two now drew nearer and came even to the edge of the moat.They looked in, but saw only bones and armor; for kites and eagles hadbeen at work, and nothing more remained of those who had perished therein the waters.
"Some strange thing hath happened here, and wind of it is not yet goneabroad," said De Skirlaw.
"Yea," agreed De Kellaw. "Darest thou venture across this bridge and inat the postern gate?"
"I dare," responded De Skirlaw. Dismounting, the two secured theirhorses by stakes driven into the earth, and then, on foot, crossed thebridge.
Inside the baileys all was deserted. The stables were empty. Nofootsteps but their own could be heard. No guard paced the walls. Nowarder kept watch. There was only silence and emptiness in the greathall, and no living creature was anywhere.
"Here be a mystery," said De Skirlaw. "I will not be the one to try tounravel it. Let us away to the king and say what we have seen."
"Ay, and brave his wrath by so doing," returned De Kellaw; "for, sincehe cannot lay hands on those that have disappointed him, he will layhands on us that bring him word of the matter. To be near to the king,if thou be not a liar or a cajoler, is to stand in a dangerous place."
"Yea," answered De Skirlaw, "thou art right; but we needs must return.So let us set out."
While the king raged, Walter Skinner, left behind at Newark in chargeof the bailiff, had speedily recovered his complacency.
"I have seen the king and spoken with him," he thought. "True, he didlaugh right insultingly in my face, but that may be the way of kings;and even so will I laugh in the face of Richard Wood when next I seehim, for he hath no hope of preferment and seeketh only his moneyreward. Therefore is he a base cur and fit only to be laughed toscorn."
When the scullions served him his dinner in the room where he was heldprisoner, he looked upon them haughtily, and bade them mind what theydid and how they did it. "For I shall not alway be served here by suchas ye," he said.
"Nay, verily," replied the first scullion, "thou sayest true. Thou artmore like to be served in one of the dungeons, if so be thou be servedat all."
"Why, what meanest thou by that last, sirrah?" demanded the little man,strutting up and down and frowning.
"I did but mean that thou mayest shortly journey to that land wherethere is neither eating nor drinking," was the reply.
"Thou meanest that I may shortly die?" asked Walter Skinner,contemptuously.
"Yea," was the answer.
"Why, so must thou. So must Richard Wood. So must the king himself,"said Walter Skinner. "But thou hast learned here so near the court tospeak Norman fashion, and go round about the matter; and so thouspeakest of journeys, and a land where there is neither eating nordrinking. Moreover, thou didst speak of dungeons. I would have theeknow that they be no fit subjects of conversation in my presence. HaveI not served the king? And shall I not therefore have preferment? Speaknot of dungeons, and the country where there is neither eating nordrinking to me." And, seating himself, the pompous little man began toeat his dinner heartily. When he had finished, the first scullion camealone to take away the dishes.
"Thou art a very big little fool," he said, with a compassionateglance, "and so I bid thee prepare thyself for any fate. Thou must knowthat what thou saidst to the king did anger him. Thou didst bring himill news, and the bearer of ill news he will punish."
Walter Skinner now showed some alarm; but he soon recovered himself."Why, how now, sirrah?" he said. "I did not bid the young lordJosceline flee; but when he did flee I did give chase. And whereforeshould I be punished for that? Had I remained in the tree near thecastle, then indeed the king had had cause for anger."
The scullion still looked at him pityingly. "By thine own showing," hesaid, "thou art but the king's spy, hired by Sir Thomas De Lany, nodoubt. Spies have not preferment when their task is done, because,though the king doth take their work, he hateth them that perform it."
And now Walter S
kinner stared in bewilderment. "Thou art but ascullion," he said at last. "And how knowest thou of Sir Thomas?"
"I am not what I seem," replied the scullion. "Wert thou sound in thywits I would have said naught to thee, because then thou wouldst nothave been here; but I like not to see one infirm of intellect run intocalamity."
"And dost thou say of me that I be not sound in my wits?" demandedWalter Skinner, indignantly.
"Why, thou art either unsound of wit or a knave," was the calmresponse. "Only fool or knave doeth dirty work for another, even thoughthat other be the king. And now, if thou wilt escape, I will help theeto it."
"I have had great toils," said Walter Skinner, with a manner whichwould have been ponderous in a man twice his size. "I have met ahedgehog. I have lost two horses. I have been planted in the mire likea rush. I have now come hither on a wind-broken and spring-halt horse,for which I did pay a price to a thief. And now thou sayest that forall this which I have undergone in the service of the king I shall havenot preferment but a dungeon or death."
"Yea," was the calm rejoinder, "I say it; for where is the young lord?Knowest thou?"
"Nay," answered Walter Skinner, slowly.
"That is all that the king careth for of thee. That thou hast let himescape thee is all that he will note. And thy life will, mayhap, answerfor it. All will depend on the greatness of his rage."
The little man looked in fright at the scullion, whom even hisinexperienced eyes could now see was no scullion as he stood there indignity awaiting the decision of the prisoner. "I will go with thee,"he said, in a tremble. "But do I go on the wind-broken and spring-haltBlack Tom of Lincoln?"
"That, Black Tom of Lincoln!" cried the mysterious scullion, laughing."Thou hast once more been made a fool of. I have many times seen BlackTom. But thou shalt not go on the beast thou camest on. I will furnishthee another, for it must seem that thou didst escape on foot. Seek nomore for the young lord. Flee into hiding and remain there. Dost thoupromise me so to do?"
"Yea," was the prompt answer. "I promise."
He in the disguise of the scullion smiled, and bidding Walter Skinnerfollow him, led the way by secret passages until they came out unseeninto a small court, where stood a horse ready saddled and bridled. Thelittle man's guide bade him mount, and, opening a small door in thewall, motioned him to ride through it and away.
"My liege, the king," he said, as he watched the spy making all speedon his way, "thou wilt learn nothing of the flight of Josceline DeAldithely from thy late prisoner. And may confusion wait on all thyplans."
Walter Skinner had been gone over night, and the second day of hisflight was well begun when the king, impatient over the slowness of DeSkirlaw and De Kellaw, sent from Clipstone to Newark to have the spybrought before him. In haste the bailiff went to the room where he hadplaced him, and no prisoner was there. No prisoner was anywhere in thecastle or in the town, as the frightened officer discovered after adiligent search. Only the afflicted horse upon which he had arrivedremained in one of the stables. And with this word the unfortunateofficer hastened on his way to the king. Near the gate, as he went outof Newark, he met one of the courtiers who bore a strong resemblance tohim who had, in the guise of a scullion, set Walter Skinner at liberty."Thou art frightened, worthy bailiff," he said. "But do thou only put abrave front on it and all may yet go well. Be careful to say and everrepeat that the man was mad, and not only mad, but cunning, and so hathmade off, leaving his horse behind him."
The bailiff responded with a grateful look. "Thou art ever kind, mylord," he said. "And mayhap the man is dead. If he knew not the way, hemay be dead, or caught by robbers. I will say that he may be dead also,and I hope he may be."
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