Men fell on every side of him, while he remained untouched,
and ever the light grew stronger in the east. The light meant defeat;
Monmouth knew it. Death would not come to him, and life suddenly seemed
precious. They still fought, these soldiers of his; the scythes were red
with blood; the Mendip miners still faced the enemy, and were cut down
as they stood; and Monmouth in his flight turned for a moment to look
back, and shuddered. His courage was gone. Fear took hold of him, and,
hiding the blue riband and his George, he galloped away with Grey and
Buyse, first towards the Bristol Channel, and then, turning, made
towards Hampshire. He remembered that Gilbert Crosby had promised to
find him a hiding-place, and if he could reach Lenfield he might be
safe. The pursuers followed hard after him, Lord Rosmore amongst them,
and he, too, thought of Lenfield Manor and Gilbert Crosby.
No news reached the village on the Sunday or the Monday. Crosby waited
anxiously. The last he had heard was that Feversham was on Sedgemoor and
that a battle was imminent. He walked through the woods to the high
road, and if he saw a peasant whose face was unfamiliar, waited for him
lest he should prove a fugitive and bring news.
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