“There’s no need to go that far,” Turner answered moderately; and then, as Hugh came stumbling back to him up the stairs, went on: “Bellasis was worsted, a thrust through the shoulder. Captain Gwyeth came off unscathed.”
“I was afraid—” Hugh said, clinching his hand about the balustrade as he stood.
“Of what?” Turner questioned dryly. “Has the gentleman been such a good friend—” He broke off there, and looked at Hugh. “I crave your pardon for that last, Master Gwyeth,” he said, without sarcasm, and walked away up the stairs.
That night at supper it seemed marvellous to Hugh that men could speak or think of anything but the duel. However, there was more speech of fortifying the city and of the storming of Marlborough than of Captain Gwyeth’s affairs, so he was glad to get away to his room, where at least there were none to interrupt his own thoughts.
Late in the evening Strangwayes joined him. “Yes, yes, you can spare words; I’ve heard all about that duel,” he greeted Hugh; “and the town’ll hear more to-morrow. Captain Gwyeth has just sent a message to Sir William; he passed it on to me, and I’ll do the like by you. Hang me if the provost did not pounce down on the captain almost ere he quit the field, and haled him off to the Castle. They want no duelling among the king’s men.”
“Will they punish him?” Hugh asked breathlessly.
“Much!” Strangwayes answered, with vast contempt. “He did but nick Bellasis, and if report be true that fellow’s injury is no loss to the kingdom. If he had killed him it might be otherwise, for Bellasis has great kindred, civilians, too, who would not scruple to bring the law on his slayer, but as ’tis— Why, they’ll but hold him at the Castle a few days to encourage those of us who are of like inclination, and then he’ll come abroad again.” Then something of the warmth of his tone abated, and he laughed to himself. “’Tis an ill wind that blows no one good, eh, Hugh? You can eat your daily bread in peace now; for the present Captain Gwyeth cannot vex you.”
Indeed, now the constant expectation of meeting with Alan Gwyeth was removed, Hugh found it far easier to fit himself to the routine of his new life. At first, to be sure, it cut him every time he saw Strangwayes buckle on his sword and clank away to the exercise of his troop, and he winced at every boasting word Frank let fall of the great things he meant to do now he was a full-fledged cornet. But he soon found that even a gentleman volunteer who had failed of a commission could be of use, where the fortifications on the north and southeast were digging; so for some days he spent hours in the varied assembly of college men and townsfolk, who labored with pick and shovel at the trenches. It was inglorious work for a soldier, and it was hard work that sent him to quarters with blistered hands and aching back. Frank joked him a little on turning ditcher, some of the other men chaffed, and even Strangwayes raised his eyebrows with the dry question, “Is it necessary?”
“If the king cannot use me in one way, I must serve him in another, since I am eating his bread,” Hugh replied doggedly.
Whereat Strangwayes’ eyes laughed, and he prayed Hugh, if he thought ’twould make no difference to the king, to quit the trenches for that afternoon and come ride with him. “Your aim is to be a soldier, is it not?” he asked, as they paced along the western road beyond the High Bridge.