"And who is the young lady?" said the innkeeper, with a fierce look.
"Why, she be a fine lad," replied old Bartlemy.
The innkeeper reflected amid a low hum of comment. Then he turned on the man who had told him of the priest and his novice. "Thou sayest the king hath a reward for this priest and his novice?" he asked.
"Yea."
"And who be they?" asked the innkeeper.
"They are like to be as little priest and his novice as they be esquire and young lady. Who be they, I say?"
"I had speech later with the bailiff, and he did say that the priest was a Saxon serving-man, and the novice was the young lord, Josceline De Aldithely, escaping to his father."
"After them! after them!" cried the innkeeper, furiously. "They be a prize!"
In the hurly-burly and din that now arose old Bartlemy slipped out to the stables, got possession of his mule, and rode off unnoticed.
There were in the London of this time many great town houses of the nobles. And that of Lord De Launay was situated in Lombard Street, not far from the White Horse. To it he went riding, at this moment, with a small retinue in livery. He looked in surprise at the commotion before the White Horse, and beckoning a retainer he said, "Find me the meaning of this uproar." Then he rode slowly on to his home.