I'll die an honest man; you will die like a dog, false to
everything, and afterwards let your beads and your masses and your
saints help you if they can. We'll talk it over when we meet again
elsewhere. And now, my Lord Abbot, lead me to your gate, remembering
that I follow with my sword. Jeffrey, set those carrion crow in front of
you, and watch them well. My Lord Abbot, I am your servant; march!"

CHAPTER II

THE MURDER BY THE MERE

For a while Sir John and his retainer rode in silence. Then he laughed
loudly.

"Jeffrey," he called, "that was a near touch. Sir Priest was minded to
stick his Spanish pick-tooth between our ribs, and shrive us afterwards,
as we lay dying, to salve his conscience."

"Yes, master; only, being reasonable, he remembered that English swords
have a longer reach, and that his bullies are in the Ford ale-house
seeing the Old Year out, and so put it off. Master, I have always told
you that old October of yours is too strong to drink at noon. It should
be saved till bed-time."

"What do you mean, man?"

"I mean that ale spoke yonder, not wisdom. You have showed your hand and
played the fool."

"Who are you to teach me?" asked Sir John angrily. "I meant that he
should hear the truth for once, the slimy traitor."

"Perhaps, perhaps; but these be bad days for Truth and those who court
her. Was it needful to tell him that to-morrow you journey to London
upon a certain errand?"

"Why not? I'll be there before him."

"Will you ever be there, master? The road runs past the Abbey, and that
priest has good ruffians in his pay who can hold their tongues."

"Do you mean that he will waylay me? I say he dare not. Still, to please
you, we will take the longer path through the forest."

"A rough one, master; but who goes with you on this business? Most of
us are away with the wains, and others make holiday. There are but three
serving-men at the hall, and you cannot leave the Lady Cicely without a
guard, or take her with you through this cold. Remember there's
wealth yonder which some may need more even than your lands," he added
meaningly. "Wait a while, then, till your people return or you can call
up your tenants, and go to London as one of your quality should, with
twenty good men at your back."

"And so give our friend the Abbot time to get Cromwell's ear, and
through him that of the King. No, no; I ride to-morrow at the dawn with
you, or, if you are afraid, without you, as I have do