Without pausing for reply,—for he wished to avoid all questioning, lest Warwick might discover that it was to a Woodville that he was bound,—the king put spurs to his horse, and, while his men were yet hurrying to and fro, rode on almost alone, and was a good mile out of the town before the force led by St. John and Raoul de Fulke, and followed by Hastings, who held no command, overtook him.
“I misthink the king,” said Warwick, gloomily; “but my word is pledged to the people, and it shall be kept.”
“A man’s word is best kept when his arm is the strongest,” said the sententious archbishop; “yesterday, you dispersed an army; to-day, raise one!”
Warwick answered not, but, after a moment’s thought, beckoned to Marmaduke.
“Kinsman,” said he, “spur on, with ten of my little company, to join the king. Report to me if any of the Woodvilles be in his camp near Coventry.”
“Whither shall I send the report?”
“To my castle of Warwick.”
Marmaduke bowed his head, and, accustomed to the brevity of the earl’s speech, proceeded to the task enjoined him. Warwick next summoned his second squire.
“My lady and her children,” said he, “are on their way to Middleham. This paper will instruct you of their progress. Join them with all the rest of my troop, except my heralds and trumpeters; and say that I shall meet them ere long at Middleham.”
“It is a strange way to raise an army,” said the archbishop, dryly, “to begin by getting rid of all the force one possesses!”