“To spare,” said Richard as they hurried on. They skirted the house and found the stable door open as Blake had left it. Old Jasper followed with a lamp which burned steadily, so calm was the air of that July night. In three minutes they had saddled a couple of nags; in five they were riding for the bridge and the road to Weston Zoyland.
“It is a miracle you remained in Bridgwater,” said Richard as they rode. “How came you to be left behind?”
“I had a task assigned me in the town against the Duke's return to-morrow,” Wilding explained, and he spoke almost mechanically, his mind full of—anguished by—thoughts of Ruth.
“Against the Duke's return?” cried Richard, first surprised and then thinking that Wilding spoke at random. “Against the Duke's return?” he repeated.
“That is what I said?”
“But the Duke is marching to Gloucester.”
“The Duke is marching by circuitous ways to Sedgemoor,” answered Wilding, never dreaming that at this time of day there could be the slightest imprudence in saying so much, indeed, taking little heed of what he said, his mind obsessed by the other, to him, far weightier matter.
“To Sedgemoor?” gasped Westmacott.
“Aye—to take Feversham by surprise—to destroy King James's soldiers in their beds. He should be near upon the attack by now. But there! Spur on and save your breath if we are to overtake Sir Rowland.”
They pounded on through the night at a breakneck pace which they never slackened until, when within a quarter of a mile or so of Penzoy Pound, where the army was encamped and slumbering by now, they caught sight of the musketeers' matches glowing in the dark ahead of them. An outpost barred their progress; but Richard had the watchword, and he spurred ahead shouting “Albemarle,” and the soldiers fell back and gave them passage. On they galloped, skirting Penzoy Pound and the army sleeping in utter unconsciousness of the fate that was creeping stealthily upon it out of the darkness and mists across the moors; they clattered on past Langmoor Stone and dashed straight into the village, Richard never drawing rein until he reached the door of the cottage where Feversham was lodged.