The Woodman: A Romance of the Times of Richard III

by G. P. R. James

Presently after there was a stroke of the hammer on the bell; another, and another, and another. The tale was complete, and he blew out the light. Then, placing himself at the window, he watched. The road was now nearly deserted. In a house opposite there was a candle burning, but it was extinguished in a few minutes. A small body of soldiers passed along with measured tramp. Next came a drunken man, brawling and shouting till his voice was lost in the distance. A deep silent pause succeeded. Chartley could have counted the beatings of his own heart. Then a man passed by, singing a low plaintive air in a sweet voice, and his footfalls sounded as if he were somewhat lame. After that there was another longer pause, and all was still again. Then came a little noise in a distant part of the inn, which soon subsided, and silence reigned supreme. It lasted long; and Chartley, thinking the hour must be near, tied the clothing of the bed together, and fastened the end to a hook and bar fixed into the wall for the purpose of suspending a sconce. It was but a frail support for the weight of a strong man; but he thought, "It will break the fall at least." When that was done, he sat down in the window seat again, and watched. Oh, the slow minutes, how they dragged along. At length the clock struck twelve, and still the sentinels paced up and down. Three minutes had perhaps elapsed, though to him they seemed many; and then the great door of the inn opened, and a voice said, "Guard dismissed! quarters, twenty-two. Roll call at dawn!"

There was a clatter of arms, and then side by side the soldiers marched up the town. He waited till their tramp could no more be heard, then put his head to the door of the room, and listened. Some one was breathing heavily without, as if in sleep. Approaching the window softly, he drew forward the end of the sort of rope he had formed, cast it over, and mounted on the window seat. Then, holding fast with both hands, he contrived to grasp one of the knots with his feet, and slid part of the way down. He loosened one hand, then the other, and then freed his feet. Still the hook and bar held firm, and a moment after his feet touched the ground.

There was a light burning in a room below, but no one stirred; and, passing quietly all along the front of the house, he soon accelerated his pace, and, almost at a run, reached the verge of the little town.

The moon peeped up above the edge of the slope, and Chartley looked eagerly forward. There seemed some dark object under a group of trees about three hundred yards in advance. He thought it looked like a horse, but as he came nearer he saw two, and paused for an instant; but the moment after came a low sweet whistle, like the note of a bird, and he went on.

Beneath the shade of the trees he found his own horse and another standing, and a man holding the bridles of both. With a wild feeling of liberty Chartley, without putting foot in stirrup, vaulted on the noble beast's back; and it gave a neigh of joy, as if it felt that its lord was free again.

Then, drawing forth his purse, the young nobleman would have rewarded the man who held the charger; but, in a voice Chartley seemed to know, he said, "Wait, my lord, wait, I go with you to guide you. You go to Tamworth, is it not?"

"To Lichfield, to Lichfield," said Chartley; and he spurred on upon the road which he knew right well. They rode on, the man following some way behind, till Atherston was left afar, and the chance of pursuit became less and less. At the distance of about four miles from the little town, Chartley was overtaken by his follower, who had put his horse into a gallop, to catch the fleeter beast which the young nobleman was riding.

"To the left, my lord," he said, "to the left, if you must needs to Lichfield, though the earl's army is at Tamworth. The small bridle paths save us a mile and a half, and will not be bad now."

"Who are you?" asked Chartley, turning his horse into a narrow lane, to which the man pointed. "I know your voice, surely."

"Poor Sam the piper," answered the man, "though now rich, and no longer the piper. Now you marvel how I should have been pitched upon to guide you; but that is soon explained. I was sent over by one you know well, to bear some news to the Lord Stanley, and there I heard what was likely to befall you. I would have found means to get you out, if Heaven had not put it in the good lord's mind to be kindly himself; but as I was recommended to him as a man of discretion, who could be trusted, and as I caught a glance of the good earl of Richmond going in, and told the Lord Stanley so, he might think that it would be well to employ me in what would put me out of the way."