As the band rode away from the king’s hunting lodge, they pressed on into the night. “If we can press on,” said William, “we can be in the village of Hunningdon shortly after dawn. I’m sure we can find a bed there and rest.”
But the exertions of the night proved too much, and as men hale and hearty began falling asleep in the saddle, it was clear that they would have to stop and sleep before light broke. They found a sheltered glade, slightly raised and near a little spring. Guards were posted and everyone settled into camp. Cawdell was dead-tired, but volunteered for first watch. He patrolled the edge of the glade. That’s odd he thought. Fools cap mushrooms and tons of them. They almost make a perfect circle around the whole clearing. It was the last thing he remembered.