"Leave that to me," said the treacherous priest. "If she be not placed of her own free will in the litter, I shall not have done my share of the work--that thou mayest hold sure. Have only a care, however, that naught about the horses or the litter proclaimeth it to be from De Breauté's stables."
So saying he passed out of the room. De Breauté followed him. Calling to the man who was not on guard to bring him his horse, and then to come after him with his fellow, De Breauté rode off to Bedford, some two miles distant from Bromham Bridge.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE SANCTUARY VIOLATED.
"The key is in the keeping of the Church."
At the actual moment when Father Bertram, at the beginning of the interview recorded in the last chapter, uttered these words, the door of the chapel was literally in the Church's charge, in the person of the stout lay-brother, who, hearing footsteps and voices without, now stood with his broad shoulders leaning against the oak. He could hear but little of the conversation through the thick door, but he guessed it had to do with his lady, and concluded that De Breauté had tracked her to her hiding-place.
For a time he remained uncertain how to act. Churchman as he was, it seemed almost impossible to him that any one, even a brutal soldier, should dare to violate the sanctuary of the chapel; but yet he feared that those without were plotting to carry off the Lady Aliva.
At length, when all was quiet again outside, he crossed the little building, and knocked gently at the door of the sacristy. It was opened by his mother, who laid her finger upon her lips as a sign to him to keep silence.
"My lady sleeps," she whispered, and shut the door again. Evidently no advice was to be had from her.
Uncertain whither to turn for aid, he recrossed the chapel, and, for the first time since Aliva had sought refuge in it, unbarred the door and looked out.