At last
they were at the summit and the archer threw himself down upon the
grass.
"Nay, Simon, I have not enough breath to blow out a candle," said
he. "Stint your haste for a minute, since we have a long night
before us. Surely this man is a friend indeed, if you hasten so
to see him."
"Such a friend," Simon answered, "that I have often dreamed of our
next meeting. Now before that moon has set it will have come."
"Had it been a wench I could have understood it," said Aylward.
"By these ten finger-bones, if Mary of the mill or little Kate of
Compton had waited me on the brow of this cliff, I should have
come up it and never known it was there. But surely I see houses
and hear voices over yonder in the shadow?"
"It is their town," whispered Simon. "There are a hundred as
bloody-minded cutthroats as are to be found in Christendom beneath
those roofs. Hark to that!"
A fierce burst of laughter came out of the darkness, followed by a
long cry of pain.
"All-hallows be with us!" cried Aylward. "What is that?"
"As like as not some poor devil has fallen into their clutches,
even as I did. Come this way, Samkin, for there is a peat-cutting
where we may hide. Aye, here it is, but deeper and broader than
of old. Now follow me close, for if we keep within it we shall
find ourselves a stone cast off the King's house."
Together they crept along the dark cutting.
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