In spite of the calmness shown by the King, Giles was sharp enough to guess that he was partly acting. He felt sure that big doings were afoot and that His Majesty did not want anyone, for the present, to know what they were.
The party got moving at once and it was barely clear of the narrow streets of the town before the pace changed to a trot, and then to a smart canter. Giles, with his arms around Godfrey’s waist, was none too comfortable, but he felt quite safe. The Count was mindful of the King’s request and kept his horse neck and neck with Africa the swift.
The straggling houses that lay outside the town began to disappear, and soon even the lonely farm cottages could be seen no more. The landscape became, for the most part, rolling heath and moorland, with copses of trees here and there. After some miles the King left the roadway and led the party off across country. He seemed to be making for a large wood that lay along a high ridge. This, Giles thought, seemed like the beginning of a range of hills, for the ground kept rising up and up. He had never been so far outside the town before and he was beginning to look about him with the adventurous feeling of an explorer—in spite of the bumping and jogging of the horse.
Presently they reached the wood. They followed along the edge of it a little way and went in by a winding road which led, still upwards, through thick-trunked beech trees and tall firs. Later, they left even this woodland trail and, bringing their horses to a walk, struck right into the heart of the forest. Over furze and mountain brooks the way now had to be picked, with nothing for guide but the sun and the slope of the land. The King did not give the order to halt until they had travelled in this fashion many miles. At last, suddenly, they came out into a small open glade.
It was a lovely spot: a circle of mossy turf surrounded by thickets of brambles and blackberries, with oak trees standing farther back—the sort of place that children would pick out for a secret playground. For while wonderful views of the country down below could be seen in many directions, the glade itself was well screened and almost impossible to see from the flat land farther down. Indeed, it would have been hard enough to find even if a man set out to hunt for it, unless he stumbled on it by luck.
By this time everybody was glad of a chance to rest. But all waited for the King to dismount before getting down from their saddles. Giles felt pretty sore in several spots, but he was too excited over the great happenings he was taking part in to bother about a little thing like that. However, he had not guessed how big a part he had been playing; and more surprises were in store for him.
The King’s manner appeared quite changed when at last he stood upon the ground and let the panting Africa wander free about the turf. He seemed suddenly to have become businesslike, and was in no mood to waste time. He at once ordered the chief huntsman to take his men and dogs and go in search of game. As soon as they were out of sight he called to the remainder of the party (which was now made up of none but his own friends and retainers) and bade them gather about him in a close ring. And when he spoke it was in a grave low voice that seemed to be trying to keep back anger, indignation, and maybe even tears.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said, looking steadily into the faces of the noblemen nearest him, ‘I have been betrayed. And my own cousin, the Duke, is the traitor. He, and perhaps others of my family, have hatched a plot to hold me a prisoner in the castle we have left, to take my crown from me and set another in my place upon the throne.’
A gasp of horror went up from all who heard. Whispered words of revenge, threats of violence, broke out here and there. And a general rustle of movement swept through the whole crowd like a wind as it pressed still closer about the King.
‘Luckily,’ he went on, ‘we have been given a chance to get a start on our enemies. They do not yet know that we have been informed of their treachery. But it will not be so for long, you may be sure. That is why I have sent the Duke’s huntsmen off—in order that I may tell you of this and prepare ourselves for action. All of you, I know, I can rely upon. But I must make sure of these men in my cousin’s service before we can go forward.’
‘But, Your Majesty,’ cried one of the nobles, ‘we can make short work of them. There are some thirty of us against their half a dozen.’
This speech was greeted by more threats of bloody vengeance. But the King held up his hand for silence.
‘We want no violence or bloodshed that can be avoided. I will speak with them when they return and see how they take it. After all, they are but retainers; and we cannot blame them for the black evil in their master’s heart.—Ah! I hear them. When they come near, do you move round them in a circle to be ready. But remember none is to be harmed unless he tries to escape and carry word to the Duke.’
Silently, then, the noblemen and the King’s retainers spread out around the glade in a ring. And when the huntsmen entered it Giles saw that they had with them the King’s black mare, Midnight. She was ridden by a groom wearing His Majesty’s livery. This man had fallen in with the huntsmen while he was searching for the King’s party. Giles thought he had never in his life seen such a wonderful horse—not excepting even Africa—so graceful, proud and dainty she looked, prancing across the glade towards the King, with the hunting dogs about her heels. He felt that if he were a King and could have anything in the world for the asking, the first thing he would demand would be a horse like Midnight, the black mare.
The Duke’s Head Falconer, with his men following close behind, came up to His Majesty and started to tell him about some deer tracks they had found farther down the hill. But he hesitated and then stopped when he noticed that the King’s own people were closing in upon him with a strange hard look in their eyes and their hands upon their sword-hilts. Then very quickly the King told him what he had discovered; and, from the surprise on the falconer’s honest face, everyone felt sure that he and his men had known nothing of the plot.
‘But you see,’ the King ended, ‘how I cannot possibly let you go back to the castle. It is not that I fear you would wish to take part in the Duke’s evil plans against me; but when it is discovered that I have not returned tonight, my cousin will get suspicious that I have escaped and you will be questioned. Therefore I must take you with me.’
The Head Falconer took off his hat and knelt on one knee before the King. His men behind him did the same.
‘Sire,’ said he, ‘it is true that we are the Duke’s men and would do our best always in his service. But we owe allegiance first to you as King of all the land. You can trust our loyalty. Yet if we come with you, what shall happen to our families should the Duke wish to take vengeance against them for our desertion?’
‘You are not the only ones with that to fear,’ said the King. ‘Will not I myself have to leave behind many of my followers—yes, and relations too, the Princess Sophronia my aunt, the young Countess Barbara and many other ladies and gentlemen of my court that came upon this visit with me? Our best hope lies in keeping the Duke ignorant as long as may be of what has become of me and of what I mean to do. He can hardly suspect until tomorrow. And when he does, his first thought will be for his own safety, rather than taking vengeance on those we could not take with us. If my plans go well, he will, by tomorrow night, be no longer a duke. He will rather be a prisoner in my hands or a fugitive, very far from here, flying for his life. Once we are beyond the limits of his dukedom I will raise an army big enough to deal with him and all his troops. And we will be back tomorrow at his castle gates to see to it that never again shall he have a chance to betray the guests that trusted him.’
Turning from the huntsmen, the King now talked quickly with Count Godfrey. There was much to be arranged and decided on. The whole of this big party had to get across the borders of the Duke’s lands without being seen and by the shortest way. This meant finding guides who knew the trails used only by shepherds and such, and those mountain paths along which no one would be likely to be met. Strict orders were given that if the party did meet any wayfarers they were to be captured and taken along with it.
As it turned out, the Head Falconer and his men were the best guides in the whole country for such travel. Then fast messengers had to be sent ahead to the nearest points beyond the borders where the King’s troops were stationed. These messengers were to carry signed letters from His Majesty ordering the commanders to put their men under arms at once and gather at a meeting-place in readiness for the march against the Duke. Scouts had to be sent out ahead along the line of the King’s flight to keep watch for any soldiers that the Duke might have encamped in unsuspected places. And there were a lot of other arrangements that had to be attended to besides.
All these matters the King handed over to Count Godfrey. The Keeper of the Great Seal wasted no time, but went swiftly through the crowd gathered in the glade and gave short sharp orders here and there. And soon there was a big bustle and a stirring, with men mounting their horses quickly and slipping away quietly among the trees. Even the dogs, trained in keeping silence and tracking down scents, did their part. In twos and threes they went off with the huntsmen, to scent out the presence of dangerous men and protect their King in his flight.
While these things were being done, the King drew Giles aside and bade him sit down with him upon a mossy bank in a corner of the clearing. He looked at him a moment or two without speaking.
‘Boy,’ he said at length, ‘the time will likely come some day when you’re an old man and have grandchildren of your own, little youngsters about your own age now. And then you’ll be able to sit back in your big chair by the fire and tell them a wonderful story, the story of how you saved the King’s life. For you surely saved mine this day, boy—you and your whispering shell. It was a narrow escape. I heard that treacherous cousin of mine, as plain as though he were standing next me, arranging with his brother and two other villains how they would put a drug in my drink and get me down into the dungeon before I woke up again. And then—— Oh, but Heavens! Let’s not talk of that now. It makes me feel too sick at heart. In his own house, at his own table, as a guest, I was to be caught—trapped!’
As the King stopped talking, Midnight, the black mare (who seemed to follow her master about rather like a pet dog), came up and pushed her nose against his bent head.
‘But surely, Your Majesty,’ said Giles, ‘even if the Duke had thrown you into prison he wouldn’t have killed you, would he?’
The King looked up and tapped Giles upon the knee with his finger.
‘Boy,’ he said, ‘once prison doors have closed upon kings whose crowns are wanted by someone else they are very seldom ever seen again—alive. No. He wouldn’t have done it with his own hands, I suppose. But I would have disappeared, just the same. You saved me. And I will not forget—— Tell me: Is there anything you’d like—I mean, besides the money for your father—anything you’d like for yourself, as a present?’
Giles’s eyes suddenly sparkled. His chest heaved with a breathless sigh.
‘Oh, Your Majesty, could I—could I have Midnight—for my own?’
The King suddenly shook off his serious mood and laughed outright. He rose to his feet and lifted Giles into the mare’s saddle.
‘I would sooner you had asked me for half my kingdom and a princess, the way they do in the fairy-tales,’ said he. ‘But if Midnight’s what you want you shall have her. Be good to her. She’s yours, boy—your very own.’