"It is better to sleep securely than softly, my lord," said Sir John; "our forest beds have no French hangings."
"My Master had not where to lay his head, and why should I, the least of his servants, have more?" replied Lord Cobham; "but now I shall hasten to my rest, for this body is sadly wearied with the labors of the last two days. A few hours will, however, be sufficient, and then, my trusty friend, I would see you again; the Lord be with you."
Sir John bowed and departed, while Lord Cobham knelt on the stones and offered up a simple prayer to Him who thus far led him in safety, and delivered him from those who sought to take his life. They were no Latin Ave Marias or Litanies that he poured forth, nor were his petitions recorded on a string of amber beads. In his own mother tongue, in the sweet and touching words and phrases of the Bible he loved so well, he talked with his God, and angels alone recorded the conversation. And then he laid him down upon his bed and slept like a child--slept as the apostle Peter slept, ere the angel awakened him to go forth from his dungeon.
Meanwhile Geoffrey and Hubert, cross-bow in hand, were rapidly treading the intricate forest paths. It was not the chase upon which they were bent, though a brace or two of birds, and a squirrel, hung over their shoulders; it was not the deer they were seeking when they gazed earnestly down the paths, or peered curiously into the hollow cavity of the oak which was mentioned in the first chapter. Deep holes, formed partly by time, and partly by man's hand, were found among the roots, each opening toward one of the different roads which led off into the forest. This was what might be called the Lollards' general news office or telegraph station. From one of these Geoffrey drew forth a small twig with two branches. After looking at it carefully, he threw it away, saying, cheerfully, to his brother: "No danger there, Hubert; Peter Lainton has seen that all is safe as far as the mountains; that is well for my Lord of Cobham, who will have to pass that way to-night. Now for the southern road." The forked stick was there also, denoting safety; but the next cavity contained a number of pebbles arranged two in a row, while in the centre was stuck a bit of red leaf. The boys immediately comprehended the signal. "Four, eight, ten horsemen," said Hubert, with a troubled look, "brother, is there not danger there?" "Certainly, Arundel's men can not be far off," said Geoffrey, thoughtfully, "probably though beyond Norris's Ford, else Peter Lainton had heard something. I will put the signal for him to be on the watch, perhaps they are only bound for Bristol, where they say there has been some trouble between the troops and the people." While he was speaking, he had been looking around for the twig of a tree. Having found it, he peeled the bark off it in rings, and partly breaking off the top, stuck it in the ground in the hollow opening to the southern road, and scratched two marks in the ground behind it. "Two hours after sunset," said Hubert, "is not that rather soon? There will be full moon to-night." "Still, father says it were better for him to start early than late, there is no telling when the soldiers may be here. How is it with the London road?" This hole contained two peeled sticks tied with cords in several places, and bent over toward the south-east. Around them were grouped several black beans. Too well the boys knew the meaning of the signal. The road to which it referred led to London. On that road had been seen, that morning, two Lollards, one a preacher, for one of the sticks was pointed a little at the top, and the black beans represented the dreaded emissaries of the church. The boys looked at each other; one name was trembling on the lips of both, but it was too fearful a thought to utter. There had been no preacher to their knowledge in the forest save him whose holy words had filled them with such awe and rapture the previous night. For John Beverly to be taken before Arundel's court was certain death, and death in its most fearful shape, the lingering agony of the chain and the flame.
Geoffrey's face grew pale, and he bent closer over the little signal as though he hoped to discover some additional circumstance that might contradict his suppositions. It was not absolutely certain that the prisoner and the preacher were the same. Beverly had intended to take the northern road; but it was very likely that he had heard of the band of soldiers there, and had turned aside. With this poor comfort they were forced to be content, and silently turned their steps toward the Tower.
Sir John heard their tidings, and construed them even more favorably than his son. The preacher, he said, when he believed his duty called him in a certain direction, was not one to turn back through fear. He had firmly signified his intention of meeting an assembly of Lollards in Flintshire the following Sabbath. At any rate, it were better not to alarm Lord Cobham with these uncertainties. Hubert's spirits rose at this new view of the case; but Geoffrey read in his father's face a contradiction of his words. Still he said nothing, but followed him to the room in the hall.
Lord Cobham laid aside the Bible from which he had been reading, and replied to their respectful salutations that he had slept well, and was quite refreshed. He then turned to Geoffrey, and looked earnestly at his tall, well-proportioned form and sinewy limbs. "Wouldst thou be a soldier, my son?" he said.
"Yea, my lord," replied the boy, "so I be able to fight for freedom and God's word."
The old soldier's face glowed at hearing the brave words; but he said nothing, only turned to the younger.
"And what wouldst thou do, my son?"