Stead was absolutely bewildered, and could not find speech, beyond an awkward "Where?"
"Where was he when I last saw him? Charging down the main street of Worcester, where the malignants and Charles Stewart made their last stand. Smiting them hip and thigh with the sword of Gedaliah, nay, my tongue tripped, 'twas Gideon I would say."
"Aye," said the woodward, "Squire had the tidings two days back in a news letter. It was a mighty victory of General Cromwell."
"In sooth it was," returned the groom; "and I hear he hath ordered a solemn thanksgiving therefore."
"But Jephthah," put in Patience, "you are sure he was not hurt?"
"The hand of Heaven protecteth the godly," again through his nose spoke the guest. "He was well when I left him; being sent south by my master to attend my mistress, and so being no more among them that divide the spoil."
"Where have you served, sir?" demanded the woodward.
"I am last from Scotland," was the answer. "A godly land!"
"Ah! I know nought of Scotland," said the woodward. "I was disbanded when my Lord Essex gave up the command, more's the pity, for he was for doing things soberly and reasonably, and ever in the name of the poor King that is gone! You look too young to have seen fire at Edgehill or Exeter, sir."
"Did I not?" said the youth. "Aye, I was with my father, though only as a boy apart on a hill."