“Bellringers did you say?” asked Nicholas, feigning deafness. “Up at the inn, sir, supping at the inn.”
“Three carol singers,” shouted the man.
“Oh! to be sure,” nodded Nicholas. “Yes, sir, and one of them had a lute, oh! yes to be sure, I saw them a while ago, and they was singing like archangels.”
“Which way did they take?” shouted the pursuer. “Are they like to be at the inn?”
“No, sir, not at the inn,” said Nicholas, shaking his head vigorously.
“Which way did they go?”
Nicholas stepped out into the garden and pointed and gesticulated with much energy.
“Where does that lead to?” questioned the officer.
“Where does it lead to?” repeated Nicholas, as though not quite sure that he had heard aright. “It leads to Thame, sir, you’ll soon get there; Thame the market town.”
“Oh, they have taken the road there, have they. The villains have escaped from Oxford Castle and one of them is a spy. Now then, my boys, set spurs to your horses, we shall soon run the quarry to earth, and the first that comes up with them shall have the hanging of the vile rebels. Keep to the left and press on.”