By hard riding they contrived before moonrise to reach Ashcroft and rouse up the Widow Flemyng. She fair hugged Hugh, and said of course she knew he’d get his pardon; then fell to cooking their supper, while she talked loudly and contentedly to either of them or both. Next morning they set out in dubious weather, and, going a short stage out of their direct road, passed that night with Butler and his officers, who made much of Strangwayes, though they looked askance at Hugh, and were half loath to forgive him for not getting hanged as they had prophesied. Next evening brought them to Sir William Pleydall’s great house in Worcestershire, where his widowed daughter, Mistress Cresswell, gave them a hearty welcome, and, riding thence at sunrise, they came at last unto Tamworth.
It was about four of the afternoon, hot and moist with slow rain, when they rode across the King’s Dyke down the narrow High Street of the town. At the door of a tavern Hugh caught sight of a trooper loitering, a shiftless fellow of Turner’s company, but he longed to jump down and have speech with the rascal. “Let us push on briskly, Dick,” he begged, and so they went at a swinging pace down the street and across the river, where on its height Tamworth Castle towered black against the gray sky. There was a shout of greeting to the petty officer of the watch, a scurrying of grooms in the paved south court of the castle, and then the word of their coming must have travelled at high speed, for barely had they crossed to the main door of the keep when a young officer ran out to meet them, and fell on Strangwayes. “Have you forgot me, Lieutenant?” he cried.
“Sure, no, Cornet Griffith,” Dick answered heartily. “Your leg’s recovered?”
“A matter of a limp; it does well enough in the saddle. I have back my commission under Captain Turner now, so we’ll serve in the same troop. Ay, your lieutenancy is waiting for you.”
Talking boisterously, they crossed the great hall that was now a guardroom, and, passing into one of the lesser rooms that served the officers, came upon Michael Turner. It pleased Hugh more than he could show that the captain did not scoff at him, but gave him a half-embrace, saying kindly: “Faith, we’re glad to have you back, Gwyeth.” Though next moment he had turned away to talk with Strangwayes: “You’ve come in time for work, Lieutenant. They’re drawing all the men they can find westward unto Gloucester, where they say there will be brisk doings. Leveson’s and my troops are here in the castle; Gwyeth’s has gone a-raiding into Warwickshire; the others are all prancing into the west. We’re a scant hundred to defend the whole town, so we’ll gladly give you the pleasure of keeping the watch to-night.”
Strangwayes came away laughing, and under Griffith’s guidance they went down a corridor to a snug parlor, where they had the good fortune to find Sir William, idle for the moment, and unattended save by a single hound. The dog made a dash to meet Dick, barking hilariously the while, so Hugh could only see that the baronet embraced his nephew warmly, and he stepped back a little to leave them to themselves. But Dick haled him forward, and Sir William spoke to him with a gracious sort of welcome that made Hugh stammer, when he tried to thank him for the effort to secure his pardon. “Nonsense, nonsense,” spoke Sir William; “we had no need to seek it, sir. You have the wit or the good fortune to be able to maintain yourself without our help. Your father ought to be proud of you.” He stopped there, then, as he turned again to Strangwayes, added with a certain diffidence: “I pray you, Master Gwyeth, do not forget to go speak to Francis; he has been in a fit of the sullens since yesternight.”
Hugh left the room in some wonderment, and, seizing upon a serving man, was speedily conducted by a passageway, up a flight of stairs, and along a gallery to a closed door. Hugh knocked, and, getting no reply, knocked again, then tried the door and found it bolted within. “Frank,” he called, and began shaking the door. “Open to me. ’Tis Hugh Gwyeth.”
There was an instant’s pause, then a slow step across the floor, and the grate of the bolt in the socket. “Come in, hang you!” Frank’s voice reached him.
It was a big cheerless tower chamber, Hugh saw, with heavy scant furniture and windows high from the floor that now gave little light. He stood a moment, half expecting Frank to speak or bid him be seated, but the boy slouched back to the bed that stood in the farther corner, and, without looking at him, flung himself down upon it. “Why, what’s amiss?” Hugh broke out, and went to him; now he came nearer he saw Frank had been crying much.
“Nothing,” the boy answered, and kept his face bent down as if he were ashamed.