He woke in broad daylight, and, having assured himself that the bed was real, so Richard Strangwayes could not have been a dream, dozed contentedly again, and woke with a start to rise and dress with the unsettled feeling of one who has slept long enough to lose count of time. When he went downstairs he judged by the sunlight that flooded the courtyard that it must be near noon, and his guess was verified by the tapster, who was vastly more respectful than he had been on the preceding evening. Those loitering about the courtyard, too, eyed him curiously but no longer mocked him. The only relic of last night’s dismal scene which he found was a rusted pistol that lay near the post of the outer gate. After a hasty glance about to make sure none were looking, Hugh snatched it up and, hiding it beneath his coat, sauntered nonchalantly out of the courtyard. Just across the road was a sluggish muddy ditch, and into this he dropped the pistol that had once been Peregrine Oldesworth’s. Even as he did so he felt a quick pang of regret, for he realized he had trusted in the worthless weapon as he never could trust again in the truest sword or the surest musket.
A bit saddened and a bit shamed at such a feeling, he retraced his steps to the gateway, where he came face to face with Strangwayes, very martial indeed with his big hat and riding-boots, who trotted up on a long-legged white horse. By the bridle he led a despondent-looking gray, which halted with the greatest readiness, as Strangwayes reined in his own steed and addressed Hugh: “What do you think of this high-tempered charger? Unless appearances are arrant liars, he is the prettiest bit of horse-flesh within two league of here. His Majesty,—Heaven bless him and requite it to his followers!—has carried away every well-seeming thing that goes o’ four legs. Here, sirrah hostler, give the beasts a bite. We’ll do the like service to ourselves, Hugh, and then the word is, ‘To horse and away.’”
“I am ready,” Hugh answered. “But I fear I have made you to lose time—”
“Time spent in horse-dealing is never lost,” Strangwayes replied sententiously; “especially when the rascal who owns the horse has likewise a winsome daughter. Now come to dinner.”
It was during this meal that a new care burdened Hugh. Now that he was no longer half starved and near desperate he had time to take heed to minor matters, and he was keenly aware of the holes in his stockings and the rents in his breeches and jacket. It seemed Strangwayes had guessed something of his thought, for, as they rose from the table, he spoke out with a half embarrassment: “Look you here, Hugh, I meant—to lend you money to get you fresh clothes, but, faith, the gray there cost a penny more than I thought, and, as we’ve no wish to starve again, methinks you must be content to let your new coat ride away on his back.”
“’Tis no great matter,” Hugh forced himself to say. “If you be willing to take the road with such a vagrant-looking fellow as I.”
Strangwayes suggested, however, that they do what they could, so the tapster was bribed and the chambermaid cajoled, till out of the inn stores Hugh was furnished with a cap and a pair of boothose, and a good part of the hedge mud was brushed off the rest of his apparel. So when at last he rode out from the inn on the gray horse Hugh felt himself a very passable Cavalier, for his covered head greatly increased his self-respect, and the boothose in most hypocritical fashion concealed the torn stockings. But had he been quite out at elbow he felt he would have shone in the borrowed light of Strangwayes’ completeness, and would have been content with that or anything he might owe to his new friend.
That night they slept within the borders of Staffordshire, and, sparing their horses, took the road late next morning beneath a lowering sky. They were headed for Shrewsbury, Hugh learned, whither the king was marching by a northern road; they would keep to the south, however, in the hope of speedily overtaking a scouting party led by one Butler, an old friend of Strangwayes, whom the reports of tavern-keepers placed less than four and twenty hours ahead of them. If the horses held out, they doubtless would come up with him in the course of a twelvemonth, Strangwayes announced dolorously, after a morning spent in flogging his beast along the heavy road. It was impossible to mend the pace, so they forgot it at last in talk, for after his days of non-intercourse Hugh was but too happy to tell some one his thoughts and plans; and he felt Strangwayes was as safe a confessor as a man could have. So he related his early life, much in detail, and the intimate reasons of his present quest, and all he knew of his father. At that Strangwayes’ dark eyebrows went up amazingly and came down in a twist above his nose. “Name of Heaven!” he ejaculated, turning in his saddle to face Hugh, “do you mean to tell me you are tracing over the kingdom after a father who has not set eyes on you for twelve years? What think you the man will say to you or do with you?”
Hugh paused blankly, assailed with sudden queer doubts, as Strangwayes thus harked back to his grandfather’s hints. But next instant the older man laughed off his surprise and plunged headlong into a tale that soon ended Hugh’s discomfort. “Confidence for confidence, Hugh. Would you hear something of myself? If they ever put me in a chap-book they can say I was the unhappy third son of a worthy knight of Lincolnshire. They put me to school at a tender age,—pass over that; no doubt you can guess what it means. No, I did not run from school; mine has been a sober and industrious life, fit for all youth to take instruction by. When I was sixteen I betook myself to Oxford, for my father was too loyal a gentleman to trust even so poor a piece of goods as a third son among the Puritans of Cambridge. There at Oxford I improved my hours to best advantage and learned to play famously at bowls, and would have become a past master at tennis, had not the Scots war broke out. Sir William Pleydall procured me a lieutenancy—”
“And you have been to war once already?” asked Hugh, suffering the gray to slacken the pace to his natural amble. “Tell me of your battles, I pray you, Master Strangwayes.”