Thus with work and enjoyment of work the month of November passed, and meantime his Majesty with the bulk of his army had marched to London, and then marched back again. Afterward men said a kingdom might have been gained upon that journey and had been cast away, but at that time Turner’s troop had only rumors of marches and countermarches, till in the early December a definite order reached them to repair to the king’s headquarters at Oxford and join themselves to their regiment.
It was in the mid-afternoon that they at last rode into the city, where the High Street was gay with bravely dressed men and sleek horses, and the old gray buildings seemed alive with people. So many fine troops were passing and re-passing that none gave special heed to the little muddy band out of Northamptonshire. They passed unnoticed out by the North Gate toward the parish of St. Giles, where quarters had been assigned Sir William’s regiment, and there, in the dingy stable, the officers parted. Hugh of necessity surrendered the cornet into Turner’s hands with a last regretful look at its idle folds. “You made shift not to lose it, did you not, sir?” the captain said with some kindness. “Why, you’re no more of an encumbrance to a troop of fighting men than most youngsters are.”
Then Turner and Strangwayes walked away to report themselves to Sir William, while Hugh remained to see that Bayard and Dick’s Black Boy were well groomed. To tell the truth, he was glad to linger in the stable with the men among whom he had spent the last month; he wondered if he was to have the chance to serve with them always, and the thought made him nearly tremble with expectancy.
He was loitering by the stable door, when he caught sight of a familiar blue jacket, and Frank Pleydall, in company with two lads of his own age, came swaggering up. “So you’re back again, are you, Hugh?” he cried, with a boisterous embrace. “And more freckled than ever, I swear! Is that heavy-heeled horse of yours still unfoundered? Nay, don’t scowl, I mean nothing. But tell me, is Michael Turner’s troop here or in the stable across the way? I want to have a look at its fighting force.”
“Wherefore?” Hugh blurted out suspiciously.
“Why, I’m to hold Griffith’s cornetcy in it. Such labor as I had to win it, Hugh. Talk to my father night and day, swear I had the strength and discretion of twenty, vow to run away if he gave it not to me, so in the end I secured it of him. Cornet Pleydall; how like you the sound? I told you I’d coax a commission of him.”
“You will find Captain Turner a gallant man to serve under,” Hugh said, after a moment. “Good-bye, Frank, I’m weary now. I’ll speak with you to-morrow.”
With that he passed out into the street and headed aimlessly, he cared not whither. He had not known till now how sure he had felt of that cornetcy. And that a mere boy like Frank should be preferred over him, because his kinsfolk gave him their countenance! For one instant he almost had it in his heart to wish himself back at Everscombe, still believing in his father, and still confident the world stood ready to receive a man kindly for his own endeavors.
Too wretched to think or lay a plan for the future, he plodded up and down the crowded streets till it grew dusk and pitchy dark, when sheer weariness turned him to his quarters; at least Strangwayes was his friend. The thought put more life into his step and made him hurry a little with impatience till he had sought out the baker’s shop, in an upper chamber of which they were to lodge. To his disappointment Dick had not yet come in, so Hugh, without spirit enough to light a candle, sat down on a stool by the fire with his chin in his hands and waited.
When he heard Strangwayes’ step outside, he endeavored to force a gay tone and shouted him a greeting, but now he tried to use it his voice broke helplessly. “There, I’ve heard it all, Hugh,” Strangwayes said, and made no movement to get a light; “and I’m thinking Turner takes it as ill as we do. He kept an assenting face to Sir William, of course, but he blurted out to me that the deuce was in it that a little popinjay like Frank must be thrust into our troop.”