The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [206]
The Marquis of Hertford, a mighty magnate, had pledged to join them with a large troop, perhaps a whole regiment of horse.
‘He’ll come. Have no fear.’
‘He’d better. Well, shall we look at the gaol? Wait here, Thomas,’ he instructed and, taking twenty men with them, the two commanders rode off into the darkness towards the city prison.
The Sealed Knot. Young Thomas looked around him at the shadowy horsemen in the market place. Here and there he could see the faint glow of a clay pipe that had been lit. There were soft chinks as a horse chewed its bit or a sword tapped against a breastplate of armour. The Sealed Knot – for two years the loyal gentlemen of this secret group had prepared to strike the blow that would restore England to its proper ruler. Even now, across the sea, the rightful heir, the eldest son of the murdered king, was waiting eagerly to cross. At strategic points all over the country, towns and strongholds were being seized. And his own gallant father was leading them in the west. He felt so proud of him that he could almost die.
It was not long before the two cavalier commanders returned.
His father was chuckling. ‘I found it hard to tell, Wagstaff, whether those men were more pleased to be let out of gaol or sorry to be made into soldiers.’ He turned as the young officer he had sent off came back to report on the horses. ‘We’ve just acquired about a hundred and twenty gaolbirds who are fit for service. Have we mounts for them?’
‘Yes, Sir. The stables at all the inns are full. So many people in town for the assizes.’ The judges from London had just arrived in Salisbury to hold the periodic sessions there. The place was packed with people who had business with the courts.
‘Ah, yes,’ Colonel Penruddock continued, ‘that reminds me. We’ve got the justices and the sheriff to deal with.’ He nodded to the officer. ‘Find them, if you please, and bring them here at once.’
Thomas found it hard not to laugh a few minutes later when the gentlemen in question appeared. For the officer had taken his father’s words quite literally. There were three men, two judges and the sheriff, all taken straight from their beds, still in their nightshirts and shivering in the early morning cold. A faint light was appearing in the sky. The expressions of angry dismay on the pale faces of the three could be clearly seen.
Up to now, Wagstaff had been content to confer quietly with Penruddock. After all, he had only come there as the representative of the king, whereas Penruddock carried all the weight of local respect. But for some reason the sight of these three important persons in their night attire seemed to stir him into a sudden access of irritation. He was a short, peppery soldier with a small beard and a long moustache. This last seemed to quiver with disgust as he glared at them.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ asked one of the judges with as much dignity as he could muster.
‘It means, Sir,’ replied Wagstaff furiously, ‘that you are arrested in the king’s name.’
‘I think not,’ replied the judge with a composure admirable for a man standing in a public place in only his nightshirt.
‘It also means’ – Wagstaff’s person bristled until his small body seemed to turn into a shout – ‘that you are about to be hanged.’
‘That isn’t quite the plan, Wagstaff,’ Penruddock gently interposed.
But for the moment it seemed Wagstaff wasn’t listening. He turned upon the sheriff now. ‘You, Sir,’ he barked.
‘Me, Sir?’
‘Yes, Sir. You, Sir. Damn you, Sir. You are a sheriff?’
‘I am.’
‘Then you will swear your oath of loyalty