“By St. Baldrid, had we but thought of that sooner, we might have frayed the malfaitor, yea, or taken him in the very fact,” said Sang. “But now we are too late to meddle in the matter.”
“We are no thief-takers,” replied Roger Riddel, with great indifference.
“Nay, now I think on’t, he who would hang up his horse so in the Borders may be his own thief-taker for me,” replied Sang; “but look ye, friend Roger,” continued he, after a pause, “who may that stranger be who cometh forth from the crowd armed and spurred, yea, as a squire ought, yet who walketh away as if neither groom nor horse tarried for him? Stay—methinks he cometh this way.”
The stranger looked around him, after getting rid of the embarrassment of the crowd about the church, and then moved quickly towards the knoll where the two esquires were sitting, and, passing quietly under it, without either looking at or speaking to them, made his way up the ravine in the direction of the willow-trees, where the horse had been tethered. The path he followed was so much lower than the ground whence they had observed the actions of the man who took the horse, that the stranger walked smartly on for more than a bow-shot, ere he came within view of the willow-trees. Then it was that he began to betray great confusion. He hastened to the spot whence the horse had been so lately removed, and finding that he was irrecoverably gone, he clasped his hands, looked up to heaven, and seemed to be lost in despair.
“Dost thou mark yonder man who did walk by here alone?” demanded Sang eagerly. “Behold how he doth show signs of distress, that would mark him to be the master of the horse which the thief took. I ween he be no Scottish squire, for he knew no one, and seemed to covet concealment as he did pass us by. An I mistake not, he will prove better worth catching than the thief would have done. Let’s after him, Roger, that we may prove my saying.”
Roger, though slow to speak, was quick to act. The two esquires seized their steeds, and throwing themselves into their saddles, galloped at full speed after the stranger. Startled by the sound of pursuit, he at first made an effort to escape, but, seeing how hotly he was chased, he lost spirit, and, shortening his pace, allowed them to come up with him.
“Whither wouldst thou, comrade? and whence hast thou come? and what dost thou, a spurred esquire, without a horse?” demanded Sang, in a string of interrogations.
“I do but breathe the air here,” replied the man in great [[411]]confusion. “As for my horse, I do verily believe some villain hath stolen him from those willow trees where I had tied him.”
“But why didst thou tie thy horse in this lone place? and how comest thou thus unattended?” demanded Sang again. “But, hey, holy St. Baldrid, is it thou, my gentle Clerk-Squire Barton? When, I pray thee, didst thou leave the peaceful following of the godly Bishop of Durham, to mell thee with dangerous matters like these thou art now in? By the blessed Rood, it had been well for thee, methinks, an thou couldst but have aped somewhat of the loutish Scot in thy gait, peraunter thou mightest have better escaped remark? So, thou hast become a spy on these our Eastern Marches, hast thou? By the mass, but thou must with us to the conclave. It doth erke me to speak it, mine excellent friend, but, by’r Lady, I do fear me that thou mayest hang for it.”
“Talk not so, Squire Sang,” replied Barton, with a face of alarm. “Trust me, I have seen nought—I know nought. Thou knowest we did drink together in good fellowship at Norham. Let me go, I do beseech thee, and put not an innocent man’s life to peril, seeing that appearances do happen to be so sore against me.”