Great Britain -- History -- House of York, 1461-1485 -- Fiction
"Beg pardon, sor, but playze don't spake so loud; some wan may hear
us," said he, as he carried the dead jailer by the neck and laid him
tenderly upon the bed.
"Oi had not mint to kill thee, thou poor fool; but Sor Fridrick tould
me to make thee quoite, and, as thou wouldst scratch, I saw no other
way." This to the body.
"But what means all this, Michael?" I asked, when I had done embracing
him, (I could have kissed him; so glad was I to again see his honest
face) at which he blushed like a maiden.
"Sure, sor, this same mysterious litter 'll till ye all, sor. Ser
Fridrick found it on his table whin he returned to-noight." And then
he told me, shortly, all that had happened since mine arrest.
"And hath Richmond yet landed?" I asked eagerly.
"Yis sor, Sor Fridrick tould me that he was now on his way to London.
The King laves the city to-morrow, with an army, to take up his place
at Leicester, as Oi think."
"Why Leicester?"
"Sor Fridrick said 'twas that he moight be near the cintre o' the
country, so that his min can rache him without havin' to march far."
"That is like the tyrant, ever on the alert to take any advantage. A
clever man is Richard. Such a King as he might have made, had he not
been born a blood-supper."
Then I remembered the letter, and hastily I read it.
"What! is it to assist me to escape from this accursed place that thou
hast come?"
"Sure, sor, fer divil a thing ilse."
The idea of such a chance had not even dawned upon my dazed brain.
Remember, my dears, I had been for many long days and nights confined
within a narrow room within the Tower. Ye cannot understand what that
means, unless ye do go yourselves through it, the which pray God ye
never may.
"But how?" I asked, as I drew the back of my hand across my brow in an
effort to assist my comprehension. "It surely cannot be possible!"
"Possible or not, sor, we can do no worse than fail. But if what that
strange litter sez be true we shan't fail, sor."
Then he told me where Harleston had gone to make all ready, in case we
should succeed.
"What thinks Sir Frederick of this same letter?"
"Sure, sor, he knows not what to make out o' it. But sure, yer honour,
so far the order hath bin all that we could wish, and if the rist o'
what the writer sez be as good as has been the furst, uh! sure we'll
have a good swim, and lave this damned place that gives wan the shivers
to be on the insoide o'."
"It shall be difficult to swim in our armour."
"Sure it's not far, yer honour."
"Then assist me to make haste, that no time may be lost. But first tie
up that scratch upon thy hand."
"Uh! sure, yer honour 'tis nothin'."
However, I bound my scarf about the hand of him I now loved so dearly,
and then he assisted me to arm.
We were soon ready to start on this perilous attempt for freedom, that
meant so much to me, if I should succeed, and such a calamity unto
myself and another which I loved better a thousand times than I did my
life, if I should fail.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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