The chime had hardly died away, when they heard the tread of horses, and soon three riders came in view in the dim light of the stars; and the boys recognised the Abbot, with two attendants, one his faithful serving man, the other a stranger.
Cuthbert dashed forward. “My Lord Abbot,” he said, “one moment, it is I, Cuthbert, and here is Gregory Bell.”
“Cuthbert and Gregory Bell; why are you here, boys?”
“We have heard a plot against you: men are waiting at the ‘Cross Keys’ to arrest you, and take you for trial at Wells; they say it will cost your life.”
“On what charge?”
“Concealing the Abbey plate.”
The Abbot smiled sadly.
“My children,” he said, “this can hardly be true, yet if it be as you say, I will not fly a jury of my countrymen.”
“Neither could he,” said the stranger on his left hand, “if he would; my duty is to see him safe to Glastonbury, unless relieved beforehand by royal authority.”
“You see, my Cuthbert and Gregory, that your devotion is all in vain; neither would I avail myself of it if I could. Mount on the pillion behind me, Cuthbert; my good Ballard here will take Gregory behind him, and you may return with us to Glastonbury, if such return be permitted.”