She slept deeply that night and longer than she had intended, but they were off again at six. By noon they had reached Oxford, where they stopped for dinner. The hostess put two enormous black-jacks on the table and while they drank she brought in pewter plates and knives and spoons. When the joint was taken off the fire she carved it for them, very neatly, and then according to the custom they invited her to join them.
“I suppose you gentlemen are on your way to London to see the fire?” she inquired in a polite, conversational tone.
Heads turned all down the table, fingers paused halfway to their mouths. “Fire!”
“Ye hadn’t heard? Oh, there’s a
“You mean there’s a
“Oh, Lord, no! It’s a big one, well enough. He said it was well along the river when he left—and that was yesterday afternoon.”
“Good Lord!” whispered Amber. She had visions of all her money burning, her clothes, and everything else that belonged to her. London in flames! “When did it begin? How did it start?”
“Began early Sunday morning,” she said. “Long before sun-up. They think it’s a Papist plot.”
“My God! And this is Monday noon! It’s been burning almost two days!” She turned excitedly to Big John. “How much farther is it? We’ve got to get there!”
“It’s seventy miles or more, sir. We could never make it if we rode all night. Better to ride till dark and then go on in the morning.”
In just a few minutes they had finished eating and were mounted. The hostess followed them out, pointing up into the sky. “Look at the sun! How red it’s turned!” They all looked up, shading their eyes with their hands, and there were others in the streets also looking up. The sun had a dull glow and its colour was fierce and ominous.
“Come on!” cried Amber, and they swept off, galloping down the road.
Amber did not want to stop at all that night for she was afraid that when she got there not only her money but the Earl too would have disappeared in the confusion. But it would have been all but impossible to reach the City, for travel by night was much slower and more dangerous than by day. When supper was over she went immediately to her room and without taking off more than her hat and boots and doublet threw herself onto the bed and fell fast asleep. Before dawn the hostess was rapping at the door and by five they were on the road again.
At each village they asked for news of the fire and heard the same thing everywhere: it was taking all the town, burning the Bridge, churches, houses, sparing nothing. And the closer they got to London the more people they saw on the roads, all going in the same direction. Farmers and workmen were throwing down their shovels and leaving their fields, setting out for the capital with carts and even wheelbarrows; vehicles of transportation were at a premium and a man might hire himself and cart at forty or fifty pounds for a few hours’ work—as much as a farmer was likely to make in a whole year’s time.
When they had gone fifteen more miles they could see the smoke, a great moving pall that hung in the distance, and soon little charred fragments of paper and linen and plaster began to drift down upon them. They galloped on and on, as fast as they could go, not stopping even to eat. The day was windy and the closer they got to London the fiercer it blew, whipping their cloaks about them. Amber lost her hat. They had to squint their eyes for the wind blew specks of tinder into them. As the afternoon began to fade the flames could be seen more clearly, leaping in great streaks, casting a threatening red glare over all the land.
It was almost night when they reached the City because for the last ten miles the roads were so congested that they could not move at even a walking pace. From far off they could hear the roar of the fire, like thousands of iron coach-wheels crashing together over cobblestones. There was a continuous echoing thunder as buildings collapsed or were blown up. From the churches that still stood, within the City and without, the bells rang frantically—sounding a wild call of distress that had never ceased since the fire had been discovered two days and a half before. As darkness settled the sky glowed red—like the top of a burning oven.
