There was a low growl from Leonillo; the hangings of the tent were raised, and an archer bending his head said, “A word with you, Sir.”
“Who art thou?” demanded Richard.
“Hob Longbow, Sir. Remember you not old passages—in the forest, there—and Master Adam?”
Richard did remember the archer in the days of his outlaw life, in a very different capacity.
“You were grown so tall, Sir, and so hand and glove with the Longshanks, that Nick Dustifoot and I knew not an if it were yourself—but now your name is out, and the wind is in another quarter”—he grinned, then seeing Richard impatient of the approach to familiarity, “You did not know Nick Dustifoot? He was one of young Sir Simon’s men-at-arms, you see, and took to the woods, like other folk, after Kenilworth was given up, till stout men were awanting for this Crusade. And he knew Sir Guy when he came to the camp yon by Tunis, and spake with him; moreover, he went in the train of him of Almayne to Viterbo, and had speech again with Sir Simon, who gave him this scroll. And if you will meet him at the Syren’s Rock to-night, my Lord Richard, he will bring you to those who will conduct you to Sir Guy’s brave castle, where he laughs kings and counts to scorn! We have the guard, and will see you safe past the gates of the camp.”
The way to liberty was open: Richard deliberated. The atmosphere of distrust and suspicion under the Prince’s coldness was well-nigh unbearable. Danger faced him for the next day! Disgrace was everywhere. Should he leave it behind, where, at least, he would not hear and feel it? Should he, when all had turned from him, meet a brotherly welcome?
Then came back on him the thought of what Simon and Guy had made themselves; the thought of his father’s grief at former doings of theirs, which had fallen so far short of the atrocity of this. He knew that his father had rather have seen each one of his five sons slain, or helpless cripples like the firstborn, than have been thus avenged. Nay, had he this morning prayed for the pardon of a crime, to which he would thus become a consenting party?
He looked up resolutely. “No, Hob Longbow. Hap what hap, my part can never be with those who have stained the Church with blood. Let my brothers know that my heart yearned to them before, but now all is over between us. I can only bear the doom they have brought upon me!”
It was not possible to remain and argue. A tent was a dangerous place for secret conferences, and Hob Longbow could only growl, “As you will, Sir. Now nor you nor any one else can say I have not done my charge.”
“Alack, alack!” sighed Richard, “would that, my honour once redeemed, Hamlyn might make an end of me! But for thee, my poor Leonillo, I have no comforter or friend!” and he flung his arms round the dog’s neck.