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"I seek sanctuary from a man that would oppress me," was the answer. "The good Abbot of Holywood is a strong pillar to the weak." "And how came ye with Sir Daniel, Master Matcham?" pursued Dick. "Nay," cried the other, "by the abuse of force!
Blood of wound or dust of travel that's a man's adornment." "Nay, then, I like him better plain," observed the lad. "But, prithee, how shall I do? Prithee, good Master Richard, help me with your good counsel. If I come not safe to Holywood, I am undone." "Nay," said Dick, dismounting, "I will give more than counsel.
"Nay self-defence," replied the knight. "And now, boy, the news of this battle, and the presence of yon crooked devil here in mine own wood, have broken me beyond all help. I go to Holywood for sanctuary; thence overseas, with what I can carry, and to begin life again in Burgundy or France." "Ye may not go to Holywood," said Dick. "How! May not?" asked the knight.
"Why, naught," returned the priest, hastily smoothing his countenance. "I make naught; I do but suffer; I am sick. I I prithee, Dick, I must begone. On the true cross of Holywood, I am clean innocent alike of violence or treachery. Content ye, good lad. Farewell!" And he made his escape from the apartment with unusual alacrity.
Already close upon the margin of the woods, and somewhat in the line of Holywood, one particular clump of fleeing horsemen riveted the attention of the young watcher on the tower.
All this time the noise in the distance had continued to increase; the rumble of carts, the clatter of horses, the cries of men, a great, confused rumour, came swelling on the wind; and it was plain that the rout of a whole army was pouring, like an inundation, down the road. Dick stood sombre. He had meant to follow the highway till the turn for Holywood, and now he had to change his plan.
It shall be on the blessed cross of Holywood. Look to it; get the words ready. It shall be sworn to-night." "Now, may Heaven lighten you!" replied the priest; "may Heaven incline your heart from this iniquity!" "Look you, my good father," said Sir Daniel, "if y' are for piety, I say no more; ye begin late, that is all. But if y' are in any sense bent upon wisdom, hear me.
"Make not a sign, I do beseech you," said the voice, "but of your charity tell me the straight way to Holywood. Beseech you, now, good boy, comfort a poor soul in peril and extreme distress, and set me so far forth upon the way to my repose." "Take the path by the windmill," answered Dick, in the same tone; "it will bring you to Till Ferry; there inquire again."
"Let be," said Dick "let be. I will instruct you. Y' 'ave been ill-nurtured, methinks, and yet ye have the makings of some good, and, beyond all question, saved me from the river. Nay, I had forgotten it; I am as thankless as thyself. But, come, let us on. An we be for Holywood this night, ay, or to-morrow early, we had best set forward speedily."
The short winter's day was near an end; the sun, a dull red orange, shorn of rays, swam low among the leafless thickets; the shadows were a mile long upon the snow; the frost bit cruelly at the finger-nails; and the breath and steam of the horses mounted in a cloud. "Well, we are outwitted," Dick confessed. "Strike we for Holywood, after all.
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