"Anything but that. Consider! Thou art young and full of life. Why shouldst thou grace a halter if it can be avoided, for, mark well, the Scarsdales are a powerful family, and moreover Stephen was of the Bishop's household. How thinkst thou to make good thy case before thy peers when the weight of title and position is set against thee? Be sober, young master, and think on't."
"Ay, 'tis hard to die thus."
"No need to die at all—at any rate, just yet. Flee the country. France or the States of the Rhine ever offer an attraction for a roving blade, and peradventure in a few years the affair will have blown over."
"But how can I escape?"
"There thou hast me. Where is Dick Ford?"
"Gone to gather tidings. He will be here anon."
Both men relapsed into silence, staring moodily at the narrow window, through which could be seen the battlements of the city gilded by the rising sun, while ever and again came the sweet strains of a lark as it soared heavenwards from the dew-sodden meadows without the walls.
Again came the sound of footsteps, and Dick Ford, the bowyer, entered. He was a short, red-complexioned man, with a cheerful countenance, as if nothing could upset his good nature, though at times his looks belied him, and the worthy citizens of Winchester oft had cause to remember his tongue when it ran riot. Like the fletcher, his appearance betrayed him, for the sharp wittle that hung from his girdle, the daubs of beeswax, and the faint reek of varnish marked his calling as a maker of the famous English longbows.
"A pretty hornet's nest thou hast raised, Master Revyngton," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Yesternight the city crier called thee at the market-cross, and on the Soke Bridge. The Bishop's Court hath claimed thee, and in default of thy appearance thou wilt be declared outlaw. Furthermore, the gates are doubly guarded, and men are even now in ambush on the road to the sanctuary at St. Cross if so be thou seekest refuge therein. By the saintly Swithun, I trow thou art the most sought-for man in Winton."
"He hath made up his mind, Dick," exclaimed Hobbes. "Better an outlaw with a heavy conscience than a corpse with none at all."