A while there was silence, while both listened. Then Humphrey said,
"But I like not the canon's plan that we go to St. Albans."
"And wherefore?" asked Hugo.
"That I cannot tell. I do but know that I like it not. It were better to go straight to London. So think I, and so do I say."
Hugo reflected. He knew that the way was not particularly safe for them anywhere. "If it should be discovered that we have been at Peterborough," he said at length.
"Yea, lad," broke in Humphrey. "I had not thought of that. But would they not straight seek for us at St. Albans, where the merry-hearted canon hath sent us? And neither did I like the parish priest at Oundle. He did speed us too gladly. And he knoweth that we go to St. Albans."
"Thou mayest be right, Humphrey," said Hugo. "It will doubtless cost the monks at St. Albans small grief if they do not see us. We will go to London as thou sayest."
Humphrey regarded him approvingly. "It is easy to see that thou art far from being a fool," he said. "Hiding and skulking through wood and fen are making thee wary."
The two now resumed their journey, and Humphrey asked, "Hast ever been on this Watling Street?"
"Nay," replied Hugo. "I was bred up, as thou knowest, by mine uncle, the prior, and all my travels have been by ear. What I did hear him speak of I know, but not much else."
"And he did never speak of the Watling Street?"