‘But Sir Giles Musgrave?’ still asked Hal.

’Belike fled with Lord Oxford and his men, who all made off at the cry of treason,’ was the answer.

Lorimer returned with his wife and various appliances, and likewise with fresh tidings.  There was no doubt that the brothers Warwick and Montagu had been slain.  They had been found—­Warwick under a hedge impeded by his heavy armour, and Montagu on the field itself.  Each body had been thrown over a horse, and shown at the market cross; and they would be carried to London on the morrow.  ‘And so end,’ said Lorimer, ’two brave and open-handed gentlemen as ever lived, with whom I have had many friendly dealings.’

One thing more Hal longed to hear—­namely, how he had been saved.  He remembered that Watch had come back to him with Florimond the evening before.  They had probably been hunting together, and the hound, who had always been very fond of him on the journey, had accompanied Watch to his side before going back to his chain in Barnet; but he had lost sight of them in the morning, and regretted that he could not find Watch to provide for his safety.  He knew, he said, by the presence of Florimond, who must be in Barnet.  And he also had a dim recollection of being licked by Watch’s tongue as he lay, and likewise of hearing a furious barking, yelling and growling, whether of one or both dogs he was not sure.

It seemed that towards the evening, when the battle-cries had grown fainter, and the sun was going down, Florimond had burst in on his mistress, panting and blood-stained—­but not with his own blood, as was soon ascertained—­and made vehement demonstrations by which, as a true dog-lover, the Prioress perceived that he wanted her to follow him.  And Anne, who thought she saw a piece of Hal’s plaid caught in his collar, was ‘neither to have nor to hold,’ as the Mother said, till Master Lorimer was found, and entreated to follow the hound, ay, and to take them with him.  He demurred much as to their safety, but the Prioress declared that it was the part of the religious to take care of the wounded, and not inconsistent with her vow.  See the Sisters of St. Katharine’s of the Tower!  And though her interpretation was a broad one, and would have shocked alike her own Abbess and her of the Minoresses, he was fain to accept it in such a cause; but he commanded his waggoners to bring the wain in the rear, both as an excuse, and a possible protection for the ladies, and, it might be, a conveyance for the wounded.

Florimond, who had sprung about, barked, fawned and made entreating sounds all this time (longer in narrative than in reality) led them, not through the central field of slaughter, but somewhat to the left, among the heath—­where, in fact, Oxford had lost his way in the fog, and his own allies had charged him, but had not followed far beyond the place of Hal’s fall, discovering the fatal error that spread confusion through their ranks, where everyone distrusted his fellow leader.