“Daughter,” said the friar, whose terror might have moved pity, “as I said before, thank yourself. This Warner, this—in short, the lesser magician hath been aided and cockered to countervail the greater, as I forewarned. Fly! run! fly! Verily and indeed it is the prosperest of all times to save ourselves; and the stars and the book and my familiar all call out, ‘Off and away!’”
“‘Fore heaven!” exclaimed Alwyn, who had hitherto been dumb with astonishment at this singular interlude, “sith he who hath shipped the devil must make the best of him, thou art for once an honest man and a wise counsellor. Hark! the second gun! The earl is at the gates of the city!”
The queen lingered no longer; she caught her youngest child in her arms; the Lady Scrope followed with the two others. “Come, follow, quick, Master Alwyn,” said the duchess, who, now that she was compelled to abandon the world of prediction and soothsaying, became thoroughly the sagacious, plotting, ready woman of this life; “come, your face and name will be of service to us, an’ we meet with obstruction.”
Before Alwyn could reply, the door was thrown abruptly open, and several of the officers of the household rushed pell-mell into the royal presence.
“Gracious queen!” cried many voices at once, each with a different sentence of fear and warning, “fly! We cannot depend on the soldiers; the populace are up,—they shout for King Henry; Dr. Godard is preaching against you at St. Paul’s Cross; Sir Geoffrey Gates has come out of the sanctuary, and with him all the miscreants and outlaws; the mayor is now with the rebels! Fly! the sanctuary, the sanctuary!”
“And who amongst you is of highest rank?” asked the duchess, calmly; for Elizabeth, completely overwhelmed, seemed incapable of speech or movement.
“I, Giles de Malvoisin, knight banneret,” said an old warrior armed cap-a-pie, who had fought in France under the hero Talbot.
“Then, sir,” said the duchess, with majesty, “to your hands I confide the eldest daughter of your king. Lead on!—we follow you. Elizabeth, lean on me.”
With this, supporting Elizabeth, and leading her second grandchild, the duchess left the chamber.
The friar followed amidst the crowd, for well he knew that if the soldiers of Warwick once caught hold of him, he had fared about as happily as the fox amidst the dogs; and Alwyn, forgotten in the general confusion, hastened to Adam’s chamber.