Part 12 (1/2)
”Ay, your search,” mumbled the old crone.
”And shall we succeed?” I asked.
”Not till the waters run dry!” she replied mysteriously, and with that another flash of lightning left us blinking in semi-darkness. When we looked round the witch had gone. A moment later we saw her making her way with great agility down the steep slope of the Bowl, till she disappeared from our view behind a large clump of heather and gorse.
”Well, I'm----,” and here Felgate broke off for want of a word to express his surprise.
”How did she know we were on a treasure hunt?”
”That's more than I can tell,” replied Drake, and drawing our cloaks tighter around our s.h.i.+vering bodies, we rode down the hill, silent and depressed, through the driving rain, towards the town of G.o.dalming.
CHAPTER XX.
--What we Heard and Saw at Holwick.
The rest of our journey northward pa.s.sed almost without incident. The day after our arrival at G.o.dalming we rode quickly through Guildford to London, where we tarried no longer than we could possibly help, staying that night in the village of Highgate.
Four days later, following the seemingly endless Great North Road, we arrived at the village of Bawtry, from which it is said most of our New England colonists had come. This place is just over the Yorks.h.i.+re border, and to our unaccustomed ears the broad dialect seemed almost a foreign tongue.
Here we stayed the night, intending to make an early start, so as to be at Holwick before sunset. An old farmer advised us to go by Thorne rather than by Doncaster, and, taking his advice, we rode over a fairly level road, which in three hours brought us in sight of the former place.
Here we followed a broad, sluggish river, whereon lay many broad-bottomed craft not unlike those we had seen on the inland waters of the Dutch Republic. This river they call the Don. When we left it we crossed another--the Aire--at a place called Snaith.
We were now but a few miles from our destination, and our hopes and fears ran high. At Carleton we left the main road, and after a few miles of a narrow winding lane the gaunt tower of Holwick rose before us.
The village was a straggling one, consisting of a few stone cottages, an indifferent inn, and a small church, its square tower, blackened by fire, a silent witness to a long-forgotten Scottish raid. From its lead-covered summit Old Noll himself had directed the attack upon my father's stronghold.
Poverty, through manorial neglect, was only too apparent, and I could not help exclaiming despondently: ”Look, friends! What a heritage, and hardly a sc.r.a.p of paper to prove my right to it!”
We halted at the old inn, and enquired in a seemingly casual tone whether we could be accommodated there. ”For,” quoth Felgate to the servile landlord, ”we have a desire to know more of this old castle, and methinks that good fis.h.i.+ng is obtainable in this stream.”
”Eh, my masters,” replied he, ”'tis not to be beaten in all Yorks.h.i.+re for good sport--trout, dace, chub, and even the lordly salmon; and as for t'old castle--well, 'tis said that spooks be about. Leastwise I never care to go yonder missen, for strange noises affright the whole countryside!”
”Oh!” I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”And is that so?”
”Ay, young sir. With the disappearance of Sir Owen, the owner of Holwick, after the taking of the castle some two-and-twenty years ago by the malignants--and a curse be on 'em all--Sir Owen was last seen fighting his way through the rebel foot. They say he was killed, and his body buried in the dry moat by the rebels; and ever since that time we often hear most fearsome cries and noises.”
When we had arranged for a few days' stay, a serving man led our horses away, and we entered the best room of the place. It was an oak-panelled, wainscoted room, with a low, smoke-grimed ceiling that was traversed by a ma.s.sive beam. The floor was paved with large stones, while an ingle nook and settle imparted a cheerful aspect to the apartment. But what attracted my attention most was a mattock and a couple of spades, with the rich red clay still sticking to them, lying in a corner of the room.
”Is our host a gravedigger as well as an innkeeper?” asked Drake, his eye following the glance I gave at the implements.
”Nay, Greville, it means that we are forestalled; someone is already at work here.”
”Who?”
”I'll wager 'tis none other than that villain Increase Joyce.”
”Ho, landlord!” shouted Felgate, in a voice that sounded like the bellowing of a bull.
Our host soon appeared, cringing and bowing like the menial that he was.
”Where is the man that uses these things?” I demanded, pointing to the spades and mattock.
Our host, taken aback, stammered some inaudible reply.
”Speak up, man!” I commanded sternly.
”'Tis but a king's officer making a survey of the castle.”
”King's officer, forsooth! Now, listen! As you value your hide, answer truly. We are king's officers; he is an arrant rogue and villain. For aught I know you may be his accomplice. Now, where is he?”
”He rode off this morning to Selby.”
”And he returns----?”
”Sir, I know not--on my honour!”
Whether the man lied or not I could not tell. His crafty face was expressionless.
”Now, listen, sirrah! Say not one word that we are here, but directly he returns let us know. Fail us, or play us false, and you'll answer to the king's justices at York.”
The landlord, thoroughly cowed, promised compliance, and we withdrew to a remote room to await events.
Twilight was drawing in as the sound of horse's hoofs was heard on the hard road. We made our way to a window where we could overlook the front of the inn, and the horseman proved without doubt to be the rogue Joyce, though he was arrayed more gaily than of yore, and a close-trimmed beard hid the lower part of his face.
The landlord took his horse to the stables where ours were kept, and Joyce made to follow, but with some inaudible remark the former succeeded in inducing the villain to enter the house.
In a few minutes we heard him calling for food and drink, and the clattering of knives and platters showed that he was appeasing his appet.i.te with zest.
It was a pitch-dark night; a keen easterly wind whistled through the trees, while rain-laden, murky, ill-defined clouds drifted across the sky.
”Hist!” whispered Felgate, laying his hand on my arm.
Cautiously out of the doorway crept the figure of a man, his form m.u.f.fled in a dark cloak, while a broad-brimmed hat was pulled down over his face. In his hand he carried a horn lantern, while the jangle of steel showed that the spades were to be brought to work. It was Increase Joyce.
With a stealthy tread he vanished down the road, hugging the buildings as if fearful of meeting a benighted stranger in the now deserted village.
Without a word we buckled on our swords and left the inn, following carefully in his track, pausing ever and anon to try and detect the sound of his footsteps.
At length we came to the confines of the castle grounds, where a thick belt of trees added to the already overpowering darkness. Groping blindly forward, stumbling over roots and colliding with unseen trunks of trees, we continued our quest, fearful lest the crackling of a dry twig or the clanking of our weapons should betray our whereabouts.
Just as we reached the far side of the wood the sudden gleam of a lantern being lit arrested us. Simultaneously we dropped on the dew-sodden gra.s.s and awaited further developments.