When they rose the next morning, however, it was to discover that Jeffreys and his men had already gone, leaving a message to say that he had received urgent orders to push on to Lincoln.
Now once more they told their old tale, declaring that they were citizens of Boston, and having learned that the Fens were peaceful, perhaps because so few people lived in them, started forward by themselves under the guidance of Bolle, who had often journeyed through that country, buying or selling cattle for the monks.

An ill land was it to travel in also in that wet autumn, seeing that in many places the floods were out and the tracks were like a quagmire.

The first night they spent in a marshman's hut, listening to the pouring rain and fearing fever and ague, especially for the boy.

The next day, by good fortune, they reached higher land and slept at a tavern.
Here they were visited by rude men, who, being of the party of rebellion, sought to know their business.

For a while things were dangerous, but Bolle, who could talk their own dialect, showed that they were scarcely to be feared who travelled with two women and a babe, adding that he was a lay-brother of Blossholme Abbey disguised as a serving-man for dread of the King's party.