“In good sooth,” said the other, “his words are but too like to come true. It is known full well that of late things have happened which portend calamities to the country. In some parts there have been showers of hail, with hailstones as big as goose-eggs; and at the mouth of the Thames they have caught fishes of strange shape, armed with helmet and shield like knights. If such be not signs of woe and war, I want to know, neighbour, what kind of signs this generation would have?”
The chapmen now sank into silence, and Oliver continued to sup, and to muse over the gossip he had just heard, when his ear caught the tread of horses and the ringing of bridles. Presently voices were heard, and an armed man presented himself at the door of the apartment, and, as the chapmen rose to make way—for, being men of peace, they cared not for too close a contact with those who were in the habit of carrying matters with the strong hand—Oliver, much to his dismay, recognised Ralph Hornmouth, a rough Northern squire who had accompanied Hugh de Moreville on the occasion of his visit to Oakmede on Christmas Eve. Events soon proved that the recognition was mutual.
“Sir squire,” said Hornmouth, advancing to the place which Oliver occupied, “methinks you can call to mind my having seen your face before.”
“It is possible,” replied Oliver, coldly; “I have been much among fighting men, and many of them have seen my face.”
“And I think I could even tell the name you bear and the errand on which you are riding,” said Hornmouth, significantly.
“Mayhap,” replied Oliver, haughtily; “but I have yet to learn what business you have either with my name or mine errand.”
“So much,” said the other, quickly, “that, knowing you to be Master Icingla, on your way with messages from Queen Isabel to the king, I am empowered by the Lord de Moreville to conduct you, in the first place, to his presence.”
“To Hugh de Moreville’s presence!” exclaimed Oliver, starting up. “I will be cut to pieces first.”
“Resistance is vain,” said Hornmouth, persuasively, “and it is better for all concerned that you yield to fate. You have already given us trouble sufficient in tracking you through field and forest this day since you gave us the slip so cunningly. By the Holy Rood, no man balks me twice in one day, either by cunning or force of arms!”
And as he spoke he stepped backward and made a signal, at which five others rushed in.