Gervase and Anne lay in the grass until the Constable’s men were out of sight. For the moment the danger was past. But they were possessed by fear they could not overcome. More and more they marveled at the singular Providence that held them in its care. Gervase had no knowledge of the falconer; thus all that had happened was to him a mystery. With Anne it was otherwise. Yet over and above a feeling of gratitude for the man’s fidelity was the sting of remorse and a sharp pang of regret for the glad, glorious and free life of yesterday. Less than a week had gone since she had last ridden in the fields with the falconer, mounted on her blood horse Cytherea, with her pied merlin upon her fist. Since then the whole of life had changed. There had come the terrible breaking of the imperious will, which after all was not more than the will of a woman. And hard upon that, and doubtless because of it, there had come this wild and complete surrender to the impulse of pity which had banished her completely and forever from the world in which she had dwelt. Long after John Markham and his companions had passed out of sight she lay in the grass sobbing hysterically. Such a wild storm of tears came upon her as seemed to shake the slender form in pieces. And Gervase was powerless to comfort her. After a time her pitiful distress abated, and then they found the courage to go on. For some miles they followed the river, yet with a redoubled wariness. Their adventure had shaken them terribly. They did not know which way to go or what to do. They wandered aimlessly, but with every sense a-stretch and with terror gnawing at their hearts. Soon they were hungry again, yet they had not so much as a penny with which to buy food. Their spirits drooped. The April sun was still shining out of a clear sky, the birds were still singing gaily from every bush, the carpet of spring flowers was still spread vividly before them, but the world was now a different place. At noon they saw a village in the distance away to the right. It was perilous to enter it, but hunger drove them hard. Thus they turned their steps towards it in the hope that by some good chance they might obtain a little food. The village proved to be a rather large one. And in the middle of the main street was the shop of a baker. They felt they were taking their lives in their hands by showing themselves in a public place, since they had had such clear evidence that the hue and cry was upon their heels, but the pangs of hunger rendered them desperate. Happily the baker seemed to dwell in complete ignorance of the recent happenings at Nottingham Castle, which to be sure was fifteen miles away. But in another respect the fugitives were less fortunate. The man of flour proved to be a very shrewd and surly fellow.