CHAPTER VII.
MISTRESS ANNE HAZLEHURST.
"I have got the start; But ere the goal, 'twill ask both brain and art." --_The English Traveller._
Manifestly the Puritan knew the road, and manifestly it was known to thehorses, also; for without decrease of swiftness the few black objects atthe roadside--indistinct blurs against the less black stretches ofnight-sky--seemed to race back toward the men in pursuit. Soon theriders had a wood at their right, a park at their left. Then there wasperforce a slowing up, for a hill had to be ascended. But by this timethe enemy was left almost out of ear-shot. Hal, knowing his party to bethe more freshly mounted, took heed to make no further gain at present.While in the vicinity of Fleetwood house, the chase must be so closethat the officers would not for a moment drop it to consider some othercourse of action. As long as they were at his heels, and saw imminentpossibility of taking him, it was not probable that they would separatefor the purpose of searching Sir Valentine's house, or of causingproclamation to be sent broadcast by which port wardens might be put onguard, or of taking time to seek the aid of shire officers, justices,and constables. It was not for himself that Hal had most to fear a hueand cry of the country, for by keeping ahead of the officers by whomthat hue and cry must be evoked, he should keep ahead of the hue and cryitself; but such a raising of the country would direct to Fleetwoodhouse an attention which might hinder Sir Valentine's eventual removal.Once the pursuers were drawn into another county, Hal might gain overthem sufficient time for his own rest and refreshment, and for hisnecessary changes of horse. When committed to the hunt by several hours'hard riding, the officers, for their own reputation, would be lesslikely to abandon it for a return to Fleetwood house; and though, as thehunt should develop into a long and toilsome business, they would surelytake time to enlist local authorities in it, those authorities would notbe of Hertfordshire, and their eyes would be turned toward Hal himself,not toward Fleetwood house.
"Tell me more of this Barnet," said Hal to Captain Bottle, as the threefugitives rode up a second hill. The sound of the pursuers, gallopingacross the level stretch between the two heights, came with faintdistinctness to the ears of the pursued, in intervals of the noise madeby their own horses,--noise of breathing, snorting, treading the roughearth, and clashing against the loose stones that lay in the ditch-likeroad.
"Why, he is a chaser of men by choice," answered Kit. "I knew him yearsagone, in Sir Francis Walsingham's day. Beshrew me if he is ever happywithout a warrant in his pouch. I'm a bottle-ale rascal an he hath notcarried the signature of the secretary of state over more miles than anyother man! A silent, unsocial rogue! When I knew him first, he was oneof Walsingham's men; and so was I, i' faith! We chased down some of theBabington conspirators together,--that was fifteen years ago. For, lookyou, this raising of the country against a traitor is well enough, whenhe is a gentleman of note, that openly gathers his followers andfortifies his house and has not to be hunted out like a hare. But whentraitors are subtle fellows that flee and disguise themselves, theseloutish constables' knaves, that watch for hunted men in front ofale-houses, are sad servants of the state, God wot!--and I have seenwith these eyes a letter to that effect, from Lord Burleigh to SirFrancis, when this same Barnet and I were a-hunting the Babingtonrascals."[25]
"Then this Barnet is like to keep on our track?" interrogated Hal.
"Yea, that he is! 'Tis meat and drink to the rogue, this man-hunting!He takes a pride in it, and used to boast he had never yet lost hisgame. And never did he, to my knowledge, but once, and that was mydoing, which was the cause of our falling out. When Sir FrancisWalsingham died, we remained in service as pursuivants--to attend theorders of the council and the high commission. That was a fat trade!Great takings, rare purse-filling! Old Kit had no need of playingconey-catcher in those days! We would be sent to bring people up toLondon, to prison, and 'twas our right to charge them what we pleasedfor service and accommodation; and when they could not pay, it went hardwith them. Well, Roger Barnet and I disagreed once about dividing themoney we meant to squeeze out of a Gloucestershire gentleman, that somelord his neighbor had got a council's order against, for having troubledhis lordship with a lawful suit in the courts. Rather than take theworse of it from Roger Barnet, I got up when he was asleep, at the innwe were staying overnight, and set the gentleman free. Roger would havekilled me the next day, had he been as good a swordsman as he is aman-hunter. But, as it was, he had to be content with my losing so fat aservice. For he was in favor with Mr. Beal, the clerk of the council,and might have made things hard for me but that I took forthwith to thewars."
"God look to it he may not have chance of making things hard for thee inthis business!" said Hal.
"Why, one thing is sure," replied Kit, "he will stick to our heels thelonger for my being of the party. 'Twould warm his heart to pay off oldscores. He'll perchance think 'twas I that got word of Sir Valentine'sdanger and brought warning. And, certes, he finds me aiding an accusedtraitor, which brings me, too, under the treason statutes. 'Twould be asweet morsel to Roger Barnet to carry me back prisoner to London! An thyplan be to keep Roger on our track, 'tis well I made myself known byword of mouth, as I did. Though, for that matter, I say it again, Rogeris not the dog to quit any scent, let him once lay his nose to theearth."
Ahead rode the Puritan, in a silence as of sullenness, his figure moreclearly drawn against the night as Hal's eyes were the better accustomedto the darkness. Hal now spoke so that both Anthony and Kit might hear,saying:
"My men, ye are to plant it in your minds that I am Sir ValentineFleetwood, none other; but ye will seem to wish to hide from people thatI am he. Hence ye will call me by some other name, it matters not what;and the better 'twill be an ye blunder in that name, and disagree in itfrom time to time. The more then will it appear that I, Sir Valentine,am trying to pass myself off as another. But sometimes seem to forget,and call me Sir Valentine, and then hastily correct yourselves as if yehad spoke incautiously."
"The lie be on your own head, though my mouth be forced to speak it,"replied Anthony Underhill, dismally.
"Willingly," said Hal; and Kit Bottle put in:
"An the weight be too heavy on thy head, Master Marryott, let old Kitbear some of it. Ods-body, some folk be overfearful of damnation!"
Anthony muttered something about scoffers, and rode on without furtherspeech. So they traversed a hamlet, then a plain, then more hills andanother sleeping village. Varying their pace as the exigencies of theroad required, they were imitated in this--as they could hear--byBarnet's party. The narrowness of the highway, which hereabouts ran fora good distance between lines of wooden fence, compelled them to ride insingle file. They had been on the road an hour, perhaps, and made aboutfive miles, so that they were probably a mile from Stevenage, whenAnthony called back to Hal:
"There be riders in front, sir, coming toward us."
"So my ears tell me," said Hal, after a moment's listening. "Who thedevil can be abroad at this hour? I hope we suffer no delay in passingthem."
Barnet's men were now a half mile behind, evidently nursing the powersof their horses for a timely dash. A stoppage of any kind might nipHal's fine project in the bud. Hence it was with anxiety that hestrained his eyes forward. The newcomers were approaching at a fastwalk. One of them, the foremost, was carrying a light. As they drewnearer, riding one behind another, they took a side of the road, themore speedily to pass. But the leader, as he came opposite AnthonyUnderhill, and saw the Puritan's face in the feeble light, instantlypulled up, and called out to one behind in a kind of surprise:
"Here's Sir Valentine's steward, Anthony Underhill!"
"Give ye good even, Dickon, and let us pass," said Anthony, sourly; forthe other had quickly turned his horse crosswise so as to block most ofthe narrow road.
"Is that thy master I see yonder?" he asked, holding his light towardHal, who had promptly ridden up abreast of Anthony.
/> "What is that to you, fellow?" cried Hal.
"'Tis something to me!" called out a voice behind the fellow,--a voicethat startled Hal, for it was a woman's. "Are you Sir Valentine?"
"Who wishes to know?" inquired Hal, putting some courtesy into thespeech.
"I do--Anne Hazlehurst!" was the quick answer. And the light-bearerhaving made room for her, she rode forward.
Hazlehurst! Where, Hal asked himself, had he recently heard that name?
"Well, are you Sir Valentine?" she demanded, impatiently.
"I do not deny it," said Hal.
"Then here's for you,--slayer of my brother!" she cried, and struck himfull in the face with the flat of a sword she had held beneath hercloak. In doing this she thrust her hooded head more into the lanthorn'slight, and Hal recalled two things at the same instant,--the nameHazlehurst as that of the gentleman with whom Sir Valentine had fought,and the woman's face as that with which he, Master Marryott, had fallenin love at the theatre during the play of "Hamlet."
A Gentleman Player; His Adventures on a Secret Mission for Queen Elizabeth Page 9