"The knave has slipped away like a night hawk, and left as little trace," reported Wulf."Now, my uncle, what does this mean?""I do not know, save that it is of a piece with the rest, and that I like it little," answered the old knight anxiously."Here the value of the beast was of no account, that is plain.What the man held of account was that he should be gone in such a fashion that none could follow him or know whither he went.The net is about us, my nephews, and I think that Saladin draws its string."Still less pleased would Sir Andrew have been, could he have seen the palmer Nicholas creeping round the hall while all men slept, ere he girded up his long gown and ran like a hare for London.
Yet he had done this by the light of the bright stars, taking note of every window slit in it, more especially of those of the solar; of the plan of the outbuildings also, and of the path that ran to Steeple Creek some five hundred yards away.
>From that day forward fear settled on the place--fear of some blow that none were able to foresee, and against which they could not guard.Sir Andrew even talked of leaving Steeple and of taking up his abode in London, where he thought that they might be safer, but such foul weather set in that it was impossible to travel the roads, and still less to sail the sea.So it was arranged that if they moved at all--and there were many things against it, not the least of which were Sir Andrew's weak health and the lack of a house to go to--it should not be till after New Year's Day.
Thus the time went on, and nothing happened to disturb them.The friends of whom the old knight took counsel laughed at his forebodings.They said that so long as they did not wander about unguarded, there was little danger of any fresh attack upon them, and if one should by chance be made, with the aid of the men they had they could hold the Hall against a company until help was summoned.Moreover, at heart, none of them believed that Saladin or his emissaries would stir in this business before the spring, or more probably until another year had passed.Still, they always set guards at night, and, besides themselves, kept twenty men sleeping at the Hall.Also they arranged that on the lighting of a signal fire upon the tower of Steeple Church their neighbours should come to succour them.
So the time went on towards Christmas, before which the weather changed and became calm, with sharp frost.
It was on the shortest day that Prior John rode up to the Hall and told them that he was going to Southminster to buy some wine for the Christmas feast.Sir Andrew asked what wine there was at Southminster.The Prior answered that he had heard that a ship, laden amongst other things with wine of Cyprus of wonderful quality, had come into the river Crouch with her rudder broken.
He added that as no shipwrights could be found in London to repair it till after Christmas, the chapman, a Cypriote, who was in charge of the wine, was selling as much as he could in Southminster and to the houses about at a cheap rate, and delivering it by means of a wain that he had hired.
Sir Andrew replied that this seemed a fair chance to get fine liquor, which was hard to come by in Essex in those times.The end of it was that he bade Wulf, whose taste in strong drink was nice, to ride with the Prior into Southminster, and if he liked the stuff to buy a few casks of it for them to make merry with at Christmas--although he himself, because of his ailments, now drank only water.
So Wulf went, nothing loth.In this dark season of the year when there was no fishing, it grew very dull loitering about the Hall, and since he did not read much, like Godwin, sitting for long hours by the fire at night watching Rosamund going to and fro upon her tasks, but not speaking with her overmuch.For notwithstanding all their pretense of forgetfulness, some sort of veil had fallen between the brethren and Rosamund, and their intercourse was not so open and familiar as of old.She could not but remember that they were no more her cousins only, but her lovers also, and that she must guard herself lest she seemed to show preference to one above the other.The brethren for their part must always bear in mind also that they were bound not to show their love, and that their cousin Rosamund was no longer a simple English lady, but also by creation, as by blood, a princess of the East, whom destiny might yet lift beyond the reach of either of them.
Moreover, as has been said, dread sat upon that rooftree like a croaking raven, nor could they escape from the shadow of its wing.Far away in the East a mighty monarch had turned his thoughts towards this English home and the maid of his royal blood who dwelt there, and who was mingled with his visions of conquest and of the triumph of his faith.Driven on by no dead oath, by no mere fancy or imperial desire, but by some spiritual hope or need, he had determined to draw her to him, by fair means if he could; if not, by foul.Already means both foul and fair had failed, for that the attack at Death Creek quay had to do with this matter they could no longer doubt.It was certain also that others would be tried again and again till his end was won or Rosamund was dead--for here, if even she would go back upon her word, marriage itself could not shield her.
So the house was sad, and saddest of all seemed the face of the old knight, Sir Andrew, oppressed as he was with sickness, with memories and fears.Therefore, Wulf could find pleasure even in an errand to Southminster to buy wine, of which, in truth, he would have been glad to drink deeply, if only to drown his thoughts awhile.
So away he rode up Steeple Hill with the Prior, laughing as he used to do before Rosamund led him to gather flowers at St.
Peter's-on-the-Wall.
