"What a wretched room! It will give me an ague," said Matilda.
"It was to this room King John came, soon after his barons had compelled him to sign the Great Charter of Liberties. And John was only an earlier Charles Stuart—just as tyrannical—just as false—and his barons were his parliament. He lay on the floor where you are now standing, and in his passion bit and gnawed the green rushes with which it was strewed, and cursed the men who he said had 'made themselves twenty-four over-kings.' So you see that it is not a new thing for Englishmen to war against their kings."
"Poor kings!"
"They should behave themselves better."
"Let us go away. I am shivering." Then as they turned from the desolate place, she said with an attempt at indifference, "When did you hear from Cymlin? And pray in what place must I remember him now?"
"I know not particularly. Wherever the Captain-General is, there Cymlin Swaffham is like to be."
"At Ely, they were talking of Cromwell as near to Edinburgh."
"Then we shall hear tidings of him soon. He goes not anywhere for nothing."
"Why do you not ask after Stephen's fortune—good or bad?"
"I did not at the moment think of Stephen. When Cromwell is in the mind 'tis impossible to find him fit company. It is he, and he only."