But soon these also disappeared, and the road was not yet attained; darkness fell upon the scene, and the lads who were with Cuthbert wandered about lost, utterly lost, until a distant light gladdened their eager sight, and with a joyous cry they bent their course towards it.
In a few minutes they emerged from the woods on the high-road from London, where a well-known inn, “The Cross Keys,” hung out a lamp as a guide to travellers.
They all knew their way now, and would fain have started home at once, only Cuthbert was faint after his late exertions, and a cup of “Malmsey” seemed the right thing.
“You had better let him have a good wash; cold water will revive him, and remove the blood from his face too,” said the landlord, who saw the lad had been fighting, and a fight was too common a thing, we are sorry to say, to excite any further comment or enquiries, on his part.
So they adjourned to the pump, where, with the help of a rough towel, Cuthbert soon made himself presentable, although he still bore very evident traces of the conflict.
This necessary task accomplished, the boys entered the inn, ordinarily a forbidden place to them, and the landlord brought a cup of wine for Cuthbert.
But while they were there a body of armed men entered the house.
They wore the uniform of the King’s guard: there was no regular army in those days, every man was a soldier in time of need, but there was a small body of men kept about the King’s person, who were sent from time to time on special services, and were called the King’s “beef-eaters.”
And these were some of them.
“Landlord, bring us some mulled sack,” said one who appeared to be their leader, “and tell us, have you seen that fox the Abbot of Glastonbury pass this way to-day on his road home?”