"All is safe for the night," he cried; "your grace has a few hours the start, and but a few; dally not here!"
Again the discussion of whither he should fly was renewed, and the duke spoke of Brussels—of his aunt. "Of poison and pit-falls," cried Robert; "think you, boy as you are, and, under pardon, no conjuror, that the king will not contrive your destruction?"
Probably self-interested motives swayed Clifford; but he entered warmly into De Faro's idea of hastening to the sea-coast, and of sailing direct for Spain. "In a few years you will be a man—in a few years——"
"Forgotten! Yes—I may go; but a few months shall mark my return. I go on one condition; that you, Clifford, watch for the return of my cousin, Sir Edmund, and direct him where to find me."
"I will not fail. Sir Mariner, whither are you bound?"
"To Malaga."
And now, urged and quickened by Clifford, who promised to attend to all that this sudden resolve left incomplete, the few arrangements for their departure were made. Favoured by night, and the prince's perfect knowledge of the country, they were speedily on their way to Ostend. Clifford returned to Lisle, to mark and enjoy Frion's rage and Fitzwater's confusion, when, on the morrow, the quarry was found to have stolen from its lair. Without a moment's delay, the secretary followed, he hoped, upon his track: he directed his steps to Brussels. A letter meanwhile from Ostend, carefully worded, informed Clifford of the arrival and embarkation of his friends; again he was reminded of Plantagenet; nor had he long to wait before he fulfilled this last commission.
Edmund had found the Lady Margaret glad to receive tidings of her nephew; eager to ensure his safety and careful bringing-up, but dispirited by the late overthrow, and deeply grieved by the death of the noble and beloved Lincoln: no attack could now be made; it would be doubly dangerous to bring forward the young Richard at this juncture. She commissioned Plantagenet to accompany him to Brussels that she might see him; and then they could confer upon some fitting plan for the privacy and security of his future life, until maturer age fitted him to enter on his destined struggles.
Edmund returned with brightened hopes to Tournay, to find the cottage deserted, his friends gone. It may easily be imagined that this unexpected blank was a source of terror, almost of despair to the adventurer. He feared to ask questions, and when he did propound a few, the answers only increased his perplexity and fears. It was not until his third hopeless visit to the empty dwelling, that he met a stripling page, who, with an expression of slyness in his face, spoke the watch-word of the friends of York. Edmund gladly exchanged the countersign, and then the boy asked him, whether he called himself cousin to the fugitive duke of York, laughing the while at the consternation his auditor exhibited at the utterance of this hidden and sacred word: "You come to seek your prince," he continued, "and wonder whither he may be flown, and what corner of the earth's wilderness affords him an abode. He is now, by my calculations, tossing about in a weather-beaten caravel, commanded by Hernan de Faro, in the Bay of Biscay; in another month he may anchor in the port of Malaga; and the dark-eyed girls of Andalusia will inform you in what nook of their sunny land the fair-haired son of England dwells. The king is defeated, Master Frion balked, and Lord Fitzwater gone on a bootless errand: the White Rose flourishes free as those that bloom in our Kentish hedges."
Without waiting for a reply, but with his finger on his lip to repel further speech, the youth vaulted on his horse, and was out of sight in a moment. Edmund doubted for some time whether he should act upon this singular communication. He endeavoured to learn who his informant was, and, at last, became assured that it was Robert Clifford, a young esquire in Lord Fitzwater's train. He was the younger son of the Lord Clifford who fell for Lancaster, at the battle of St. Alban's. By birth, by breeding, he was of the Red Rose, yet it was evident that his knowledge was perfect as to the existence of the duke of York; and the return of Lord Fitzwater and King Henry's secretary to Lisle, disappointed and foiled, served to inspire confidence in the information he had bestowed. After much reflection, Plantagenet resolved to visit Paris, where he knew that the brother of Madeline, old John Warbeck, then sojourned; and, if he did not gain surer intelligence from him, to proceed by way of Bordeaux to Spain.