“I’ve heard that name. Perhaps you’re kinsman to him that killed Bellasis’ son?”
“I—I am the man that killed him, sir.”
“You? The deuce you are!” the stranger broke out; and, to Hugh’s amazement, he did not look horrified, but more as if he were inclined to laugh. “Come seek me to-morrow morning at my quarters,” he said abruptly, then, gathering up the reins, went out of the inn yard at a gallop.
Hugh stood gazing blankly after him, and could not decide whether to be elated or dismayed, for he knew the stranger was Prince Rupert, and he was to have audience with him next morning. Carry his cause to the king, the widow had counselled him, Hugh reflected, and he tried to smile at the remembrance, though his heart was sober and anxious.
Just there the host interrupted him; what was his pleasure now? Surely he would not attempt to make his journey with the lame horse? “No, let him rest,” Hugh ordered; “I’ll venture him in the morning. For now give me a chamber; I’ll lie here this night.”
He was early astir next day, for, though the way to Oxford was short, he was not sure of his mount, and, in any case, he was burning with desire to present himself before the Prince and know the worst that was destined for him. The white horse still went lame with a strained fore-leg, but, sparing him as much as he could, Hugh contrived about eleven of the clock to pace slowly into the city. Before he entered the suburbs he had flung on his cloak, in spite of the heat, and pulled his hat low on his forehead; but still he was nervously alert to avoid the fixed gaze of those he met, and he dreaded any delay in the street. By dint of such precautions, perhaps, he came at last unchallenged to Christ Church, where he remembered Prince Rupert had his quarters.
The groom who took his bridle eyed him sharply, and, once across the quadrangle and within the broad hall, a trig gentleman usher looked askance at his worn boots and shabby buff coat. Hugh had too much upon his mind, however, to trouble for his poor attire. He sat uneasily in the great chair to which he had been motioned, and studied the sunlight that fell from a long window high up toward the roof of the hall, till the usher came at last to bid him follow. Hugh trudged obediently up a great flight of stairs that creaked alarmingly, and, as he went, wondered why there was an emptiness where his heart ought to be, and his throat felt all choked up.
A great door was swung open, he remembered; then he was within a long sunshiny chamber, with heavy table and big dark chairs, the usher had gone, and he was left face to face with his Highness, the Prince, and another youngish gentleman, who sat at opposite sides of the table with a jumble of papers betwixt them. “You keep your time well, Master Gwyeth,” spoke the Prince, and put by a paper like a map he had been studying.
“Your Highness bade me,” Hugh stammered.
“So ’twas you killed Bellasis’ son,” the other repeated, still amusedly. “Lay down that order, Grandison. I want you to have a look at this desperate duellist.”