Both men relapsed into silence, staring moodily at the narrow window, through which could be seen the battlements of the city gilded by the rising sun, while ever and again came the sweet strains of a lark as it soared heavenwards from the dew-sodden meadows without the walls. Again came the sound of footsteps, and Dick Ford, the bowyer, entered. He was a short, red-complexioned man, with a cheerful countenance, as if nothing could upset his good nature, though at times his looks belied him, and the worthy citizens of Winchester oft had cause to remember his tongue when it ran riot. Like the fletcher, his appearance betrayed him, for the sharp wittle that hung from his girdle, the daubs of beeswax, and the faint reek of varnish marked his calling as a maker of the famous English longbows. "A pretty hornet's nest thou hast raised, Master Revyngton," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Yesternight the city crier called thee at the market-cross, and on the Soke Bridge. The Bishop's Court hath claimed thee, and in default of thy appearance thou wilt be declared outlaw. Furthermore, the gates are doubly guarded, and men are even now in ambush on the road to the sanctuary at St. Cross if so be thou seekest refuge therein. By the saintly Swithun, I trow thou art the most sought-for man in Winton." "He hath made up his mind, Dick," exclaimed Hobbes. "Better an outlaw with a heavy conscience than a corpse with none at all." "Ay, let me but get once clear of the city and I'll reck not what I become." "Bravely spoken, Master Revyngton! And now, how canst thou make good thine escape? Thou canst count on us to a surety, for 'twould ill requite thy father's kindness to us in times past if we let thee fall into the hands of the Bishop's men. Where is thine arrow-wain, Dick?" "Below, in the barn." "And laden?" "Nay, but it soon could be. Wherefore?" "Place Master Revyngton in the cart and cover him with arrows. 'Tis the day thou journeyest to Bishopstoke and Botley. He would then be well on his way to the abbey at Netley." "Steady, Dick, steady! Should the guard at Kingsgate search the wain my neck is as good as if fitted with a halter. Yet I'll take the risk; but see to it, young master, if the plan goeth amiss, thou'lt bear me witness that I wot not of thy presence?" "Ay, good Nicholas. But if they question thee and search the cart I must make a bid for freedom, so stand in the way, and I'll warrant I'll knock thee down just to give colour to the deceit." "But strike not too hard, Master Revyngton, neither on the face, for I am in no mind to go home to my good wife with my nose awry or mine eyes closed up. A gentle tap, I pray thee--like this--and I'll warrant I'll fall as surely as if I were smitten with the club of the Southampton giant Ascupart."