Martin Hyde (25 page)

They seemed to search about for some trace of a rabbit; but not finding any, they listened for another stone to fall.

"I tell you what I think," said the first man. "I believe as there be underground passages all over these here gardens. Some of them walks sound just as hollow as logs if you do stamp on 'em. There was very queer doings here in the old monks' time; very queer. Some day I mean to grub about a bit, master. For my old grandmother used always to say as the monks buried a lot of treasure hereabouts in the old time."

"Ah?" said the other. "Then shall us get a spade quiet like, to see if it be beneath." The other hesitated, while my heart sank. I very nearly went back to my prison, thinking that all was over.

"No," said his comrade. "Us'll ask Sir Travers first. He doan't like people grubbing about. Some of his forefathers as they call them weren't very good, I do hear, neither. He doan't want none of their little games brought to light, like."

After this, the men moved off, to some other part of their beat. I went on along the passage quickly, till suddenly I fell with a crash down three or four steps into a dirty puddle, knocking my head as I fell. I could see no glimmer of light from this place; but I
groped my way out, up a few more steps further on into a smaller, dirtier passage than the one which I had just left. After this I had to crawl like a badger in his earth, with my back brushing against the roof, over many masses of broken brickwork most rough to the palms of my hands. All of a sudden I smelt a pleasant stable-smell. I heard the rattle of a halter drawn across manger bars. I heard a horse paw upon the ground quite close to me. A dim, but regular chink of light showed in front of me, level with my head as I crawled. Peering through it, I saw that I was looking into a stable, almost level with the floor; the passage had come to an end.

By getting my fingers into the crack through which I peered, I found that I could swing round some half a dozen stones, which were mortared together, so as to form a revolving door. It worked with difficulty, as though no one had passed through by that way for many years; but it worked for me, after a little hard pushing. I scrambled through the narrow opening into a roomy old stable, where some cart-horses peered at me with wonder, as I rose to my feet. After getting out, I shut to my door behind me, so firmly that I could not open it again; there must have been some spring or catch which I could not set to work. Two steps more took me out of the horses' stalls into the space behind, where, on a mass of hay, lay a carter, fast asleep, with the door-key in his hand. By his side lay a pitchfork.
He was keeping guard there, prepared to resist Monmouth's pillagers.

He slept so heavily that I was tempted to take the key from his hand. Twice I made little half steps forward to take it; but each time something in the man's look daunted me. He was a surly-looking man who, if roused suddenly, in a locked stable, might lay about him without waiting to see who roused him. He stirred in his sleep as I drew near him for the second time; so I gave up the key as a bad job. The loft seemed to be my only chance; as there was only this one big-locked double door upon the lower floor, I clambered up the steep ladder to the loft, hoping that my luck there might be better, but resolved, if the worst came, to hide there in the hay until the carter took the horses to work, leaving the doors open.

I had hardly set my foot upon the loft floor, when one of the horses, hearing some noise outside, or being moved by some evil spirit, whinnied loudly, rattling his halter. The noise was enough to rouse an army. It startled the carter from his bed. I heard him leap to his feet with an oath; I heard him pad round the stable, talking to the horses in turn; I heard him unlock the door to see what was stirring. I stood stock-still in my tracks, not daring to stir towards the cover of the hay at the farther end of the loft. I heard him walk slowly, grunting heavily, to the foot of the ladder, where he stopped to listen for any further signal. If he had come
up he must have caught me. I could not have escaped. But though he seemed suspicious he did not venture further. He walked slowly back to his bed, grunting discontentedly. In a few minutes he was sound asleep again; for farming people sleep like sailors, as though sleep were a sort of spirit muffling them suddenly in a thick felt blanket. After he had gone off to sleep, I took off my boots, in order to put them on under my stockings, for the greater quiet which that muffling gives to the tread. Then I peered about the loft for a way of escape.

There were big double doors to this upper loft, through which the hay could be passed from a waggon standing near the wall. These doors were padlocked on the inside; there was no opening them; the staples were much too firm for me to remove without a crowbar. The other openings in the walls were mere loophole slits, about four feet long but only a few inches broad. There were enough of these to make the place light. By their light I could see that there was no way of escape for me except by the main door. I was almost despairing of escape from this prison of mine, when I saw that the loft had a hayshoot, leading downwards. When I saw it I fondly hoped that it led to some outer stable or cart-shed, separated from that in which the carter slept. A glance down its smooth shaft showed me that it led to the main stable. I could see the heads of the meditative horses, bent over the empty mangers exactly as if they were saying grace. Beyond them I saw the
boots of the carter dangling over the edge of the trusses of hay on which he slept. I stepped back from this shaft quickly because I thought that I might be seen from below. My foot went into the nest of a sitting hen, right on to the creature's back. Up she started, giving me such a fright that I nearly screamed. She flew with a cackling shriek which set all the blackbirds chippering in the countryside. Round the loft she scattered, calling her hideous noise. Up jumped the carter, down came his pitchfork with a thud. His great boots clattered over the stable to the ladder. Clump, clump, he came upstairs, with his pitchfork prongs gleaming over his head like lanceheads. I saw his head show over the opening of the loft. There was not a second to lose. His back of course was still towards me, as the ladder was mercifully nailed to the wall. Before he turned I slid over the mouth of the shaft down into the hayrack of the old brute who had whinnied. I lit softly; but I certainly shocked that old mare's feelings. In a second, before she had time to kick, I was outside her stall, darting across the stable to the key, which lay on the truss of hay, mercifully left there by its guardian. In another second the lock had turned. I was outside, in the glorious open fields again. Swiftly but silently I drew the key out of the lock. One second more sufficed to lock that door from without. The carter was a prisoner there, locked safely in with his horses. I was free. The key was in my pocket. Yonder lay the great combes which hid Taunton from me. I waved my hat towards them; then, with a wild joyous rush, I scrambled behind the cover of the nearest hedge, along which I ran hard for nearly a quarter of a mile.

I stopped for a few minutes to rest among some ferns, while I debated how to proceed. I changed the arrangement of my stockings; I also dusted my very dirty clothes, all filthy from that horrid passage underground. "Now," I said to myself, "there must be many ways to Taunton. One way, I know, leads along this valley, past Chard there, where the houses are. The other way must lie across these combes, high up. Which way shall I choose, I wonder?" A moment's thought showed me that the combes would be unfrequented, while the valley road, being the easy road, which (as I knew) the Duke's army had chosen, would no doubt be full of people, some of them (perhaps) the Kings soldiers, coming up from Bridport. If I went by that road my pursuers would soon hear of me, even if I managed to get past the watchers on the road. On the other hand, Aurelia would probably know that I should choose the combe road. Still, even if she sent out mounted men, she would find me hard to track, since the combes were lonely, so lonely that for hours together you can walk there without meeting anybody. There would be plentiful cover among the combes in case I wished to lie low. Besides, I had a famous start, a five hours' start; for I should not be missed until eight
o'clock. It could not then have been much more than half-past two. In five hours an active boy, even if he knew not the road, might put some half a dozen miles behind him. I say only half a dozen miles, because the roads were the roughest of rough mud-tracks, still soft from the rains. As I did not know the way, I knew that I might count on going wrong, taking wrong turns, etc. As I wished to avoid people, I counted on travelling most of the way across country, trusting to luck to find my way among the fields. So that, although in five hours I should travel perhaps ten or twelve miles, I could not count on getting more than six miles towards Taunton.

CHAPTER XXIII

FREE

F
OR
the first hour or two, as no one would be about so early, I thought it safe to use the road. I put my best foot foremost, going up the great steep combe, with Chard at my back.

The road was one of the loneliest I have ever trodden. It went winding up among barren-looking combes which seemed little better than waste land. There were few houses, so few that sometimes, on a bit of rising ground, when the road lifted clear of the hedges, one had to look about to see any dwelling of men. There was little cultivation, either. It was nearly all waste, or scanty pasture. A few cows cropped by the wayside near the lonely cottages. A few sheep wandered among the ferns. It was a very desolate land to lie within so few miles of England's richest valleys. I walked through it hurriedly, for I wished to get far from my prison before my escape was discovered. No one was there to see me; the lie of the valley below gave me my direction, roughly, but closely enough. After about an hour of steady, fairly good walking, I pulled up by a little tiny brook for breakfast. I ate quickly, then
hurried on, for I dared not waste time. I turned out of the narrow cart-tracks into what seemed to be a highroad. I dipped down a hollow, past a pond where geese were feeding, then turned to a stiff steep hill, which seemed never to end for miles. The country grew lonelier at every step; there were no houses there; only a few rabbits tamely playing in the outskirts of the coverts. A jay screamed in the clump of trees at the hill-top; it seemed the proper kind of voice for a waste like that. Still further on, I sat down to rest at the brink of the great descent, which led, as I guessed, as I could almost see, to the plain where Taunton lay, waiting for the Duke's army to garrison her. There were thick woods to my right at this point, making cover so dense that no hounds would have tried to break through it, no matter how strong a scent might lead them. It was here, as I sat for a few minutes to rest, that a strange thing happened.

I was sitting at the moment with my back to the wood, looking over the desolate country towards a tiny cottage far off on the side of the combe. A big dog-fox came out of the cover from behind me, so quietly that I did not hear him. He trotted past me in the road; I do not think that he saw me till he was just opposite. Then he stopped to examine me, as though he had never seen such a thing before. He was puzzled by me, but he soon decided that I was not worth bothering about, for he made no stay. He
padded slowly on towards Chard, evidently well-pleased with himself. Suddenly he stopped dead, with one pad lifted, a living image of alert tension. He was alarmed by something coming along the road by which I had come. He turned his head slightly, as though to make sure with his best ear. Then with a single beautiful lollopping bound he was over the hedge to safety, going in that exquisite curving rhythm of movement which the fox has above all English animals. For a second, I wondered what it was that had startled him. Then, with a quickness of wit which would have done credit to an older mind, I realized that there was danger coming on the road towards me, danger of men or of dogs, since nothing else in this country frightens a fox. It flashed in upon me that I must get out of sight at once; before that danger hove in view of me. I gave a quick rush over the fence into the tangle, through which I drove my way till I was snug in an open space under some yew trees, surrounded on all sides by brambles. I shinned up one of the great yew trees, till I could command a sight of the road, while lying hidden myself in the profuse darkness of the foliage. Here I drew out my pistol, ready for what might come. I suppose I had not been in my hiding-place for more than thirty seconds, when over the brow of the hill came Sir Travers Carew, at a full gallop, cheering on a couple of hounds, who were hot on my scent. Aurelia rode after him, on her famous chestnut mare. Behind her galloped two
men, whom I had not seen before. In an instant, they were swooped down to the place where the dog-fox had passed. The hounds gave tongue when they smelt the rank scent of their proper game; they were unused to boy-hunting. They did not hesitate an instant, but swung off as wild as puppies over the hedge, after the fox. The horsemen paused for a second, surprised at the sudden sharp turn; but they followed the hounds' lead, popping over the fence most nimbly, not waiting to look for my tracks in the banks of the hedge. They streamed away after the fox, to whom I wished strong legs. I knew that with two young hounds they would never catch him, but I hoped that he would give them a good run before the sun killed the scent. I looked at the sun, now gloriously bright over all the world, putting a bluish glitter on to the shaking oak leaves of the wood. How came it that they had discovered my flight so soon since it could not be more than six o'clock, if as much? I wondered if it had been the old carter, who had never really seen me. It might have been the old carter; but doubtless he drummed for a good while on the door of the stable before anybody heard him. Or it might have been one of the garden sentries. One of the sentries might well have peeped in at the window of my room to make sure that I was up to no pranks. He could have seen from the window that my bed was empty. If he had noticed that, he could have unlocked my door to make sure, after which it would not have
taken more than a few minutes to start after me. I learned afterwards that the sentry had alarmed the house at a little before five o'clock. The carter, being only half-awake when he came after me, suspected nothing till the other farm-hands came for the horses, at about six o'clock, when, the key being gone, he had to break the lock, vowing that the rattens had took his key from him in the night. My disappearance puzzled everybody, because I had hidden my tracks so carefully that no one noticed at first how the chimney bars had been loosened. No one in that house knew of the secret room, so that the general impression was that I had either squeezed myself through the window, or blown myself out through the keyhole by art-magic. The hounds had been laid along the road to Chard, with the result that they had hit my trail after a few minutes of casting about.