[50] At another time, persons so favoured were unfortunately looked upon as special favourites of Satan, and suffered accordingly in the judicial holocausts for supposed witchcraft and sorcery. CHAPTER XII. _THE HAND OF GOD._ Cuthbert rode at a brisk trot through the woods, sometimes breaking into a gallop; but he was too good a horseman to “take it all out of his steed” at starting, for he felt that the chase might last the entire day. The woods were beautiful in their calm decay, that November morning, but he had no heart to observe them, his whole soul was wrapped up in one consideration--should he overtake Nicholas and prevent his betraying the secret he had so meanly gained? At any cost the spy must be hindered from reaching Glastonbury that night; if force were necessary, and to fight became the only alternative, the fight must be fought; they were both armed. The ostler had mentioned that Nicholas had a sword by his side, as became a smart young page; but then Cuthbert wore one also, concealed beneath his cloak, as more befitting his present disguise. It will be remembered as the parting gift of Sir Robert Tremayne. Not only did the life of his patron, Sir Walter, to say nothing of his own, depend upon the non-arrival of Nicholas at Glastonbury, but perchance the lives of many adherents of the old faith, whose names were inscribed upon those documents, which Cuthbert knew were yet hidden in the chest which lay within the undiscovered muniment chamber of the Abbey. Nor can we pretend to deny that the persistent animosity, the deadly hatred, but above all the underhand way in which Nicholas had now twice penetrated into the secrets intrusted to his care, exasperated our hero to the utmost. Filled with these thoughts, Cuthbert reached Ilminster, a small country town, where he arrived about ten in the morning; he could not obtain a change of steeds at the inn, so was forced to wait for his horse to bait. He enquired whether any traveller had been before him on the road, and learned that a youth, dressed as a page, had preceded him by one entire hour. So as yet he had not gained upon him. The grey-headed ostler observed his uneasiness. “Dost thou wish to catch that page?” “I have most important business with him.” “Humph! I hope it is friendly, but that is not my affair; if thou canst make it worth my while, I will compound a draught for thy horse, which will make him go as if he had wings, instead of legs, for a few hours----” “And then?” “Why, then, he will be very tired; but his work will be done, and if the beast rests for a day or two afterwards he will not suffer.” “A noble for thee, if thou canst get the draught.” The ostler went away a brief space, and returned with a mixture which he poured into a bucket with a little water; the steed drank it greedily. “Now let him rest another half-hour, and he will be ready.” “Half-an-hour, now--”