hy cousin King Henry. And thou well knowest,
rascal! that I am pledged for thee in Parliament, and have put my body
and mine heritage to pawn for thy fidelity. I see thou wouldst fain
have me hanged; but, by Saint George! I had liefer thou wert hanged
than I!"

York strode out of the hall, calling to the grooms to hasten. Aumerle
gave him time to mount the stairs to assume his riding-suit, and then
himself went quietly to the stable, saddled a fleet barb, and rode for
his life to Windsor.

"Who goes there?" rang the royal warder's challenge.

"The Lord of Rutland, to have instant speech of the King. Is my
gracious Lord of York here?"

York had not arrived, and his son was safe. The warder had pushed to
the great gates, and was leading the way to the court-yard, when to his
astounded dismay, Aumerle's dagger was at his throat.

"How have I offended, my Lord?" faltered the poor man.

"No hast," was the response; "but if thou lock not up the gates
incontinent, and give the keys to me--"

The keys were in Aumerle's pocket the next minute. An hour later, when
his story was told, and his pardon solemnly promised, York and his train
came lumbering to the gate, to find his news forestalled. When Henry
had read the agreement, which York brought with him, he set out
immediately for London, while Aumerle calmly repaired to his tryst at
Colnbrook. Here Exeter was the first to join him. Aumerle informed his
friends that Henry was coming to meet them with a large army, but they
determined nevertheless to advance. They passed Maidenhead Bridge in
safety, but as soon as they crossed it, the vanguard of Henry's army was
visible. To the amazement of his colleagues, Aumerle, on whom they had
counted as staunch and loyal, doffed his bonnet with a laugh, and,
spurring forward, was received by the enemy as an expected ally. There
could be no doubt now that he had betrayed his too trusting friends.
Yet even then, the little band held the bridge till midnight. But by
midnight all hope was over. There was left only one alternative--flight
or death. The loyal six set spurs to their horses; and Surrey's steed
being fleetest, he soon outdistanced the others. All that night Surrey
rode at a breathless gallop, and when morning broke he was dashing past
Osney Abbey into the gates of Oxford. Exeter came up an hour or two
later; the rest followed afterwards. But they did not mean to stop at
Oxford for more than a few hours' r