Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
He waded in and found it hardly came to his waist in the deepest part.
After crossing to its farthest bank, he kept the watery path for
nearly a league, thereby throwing his pursuers effectually off the
trail. But where his course trended, 'twas impossible to tell, as
there was no moon, and the stars were veiled by thick cloud that
vomited forth rain in gusts.
The leather bags were very near rain-soaked and had become so heavy
'twas impossible for anything less than a beast of burden to carry
them further, so leaving the friendly stream, he walked some little
distance from it, gaining to his surprise an open road. This was not
what he wished, and was turning from it when he stumbled and fell
prone. Being hot with anger and fatigue, he reached for the obstacle
that had so unmanned him to damn it. 'Twas a large, round knot. It
struck his memory, as he held it, with a thought of the morning
before.
"_Eureka_!" he cried, as he felt the very presence of the tall tree by
the public highway that led from Crandlemar, London way. He arose and
reached for the aperture.
"Egad, 'tis there!"
Fortunately the royal tree was not far from the unused cabin that had
afforded him accommodation some hours before. He immediately sat down
upon the bags and rested.
There passed him several horsemen and a chaise; whether they were his
whilom companions of the thicket or not he did not care. It was
sure they were in haste to leave the village as far behind them as
possible.
When the sound of the horses' hoofs had died away, he again donned his
leathery burden and made for the depths behind him.
He was not long in reaching the _rendezvous_, and was met by his
anxious servant, who had but just arrived from seeking him.
The exhausted Duke gave orders for one hour's rest, then fell upon a
pile of blankets that were spread upon the damp and open floor.
An hour later saw the Duke astride his horse, that stood with flaring
nostrils, caring not a whit for his extra burden of saddle-bags and
flew along the wet road, regardless.
Hours after his master jumped from his back at Hornby's.
The morning was far advanced and Mistress Penwick was fretting under
the delay.
Monmouth had plead that the weather was too wet and Lady Constance was
too ill to proceed until the following day.
The maid had demurred, saying Janet might remain with her ladyship;
but Monmouth was not quite at liberty to take Katherine without first
seeing Buckingham, whom he thought should have arrived early in the
morning.
As Buckingham came into the great room of the inn, Katherine proposed
they set out at once, as she would reach Whitehall, if possible,
before Sunday.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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