He of course had to appear before the coroner's court to be questioned and cross-questioned as to what had happened during that morning when his master met with his death, though he had told the story to one and another half a dozen times over at least.
Mrs. Tyler took care to see him before he went into the room, to let him know that he need expect no help from her. "I have got another stable boy—a respectable lad, whose mother was an honest woman and not a witch," she added.
So Eric knew that when this ordeal was over, he would be a homeless waif for whom no man cared in all the wide world. That he would be free however, to go where he pleased he had no doubt or until, when the little crowd was moving away, he was again laid hold of by the constable.
"The justices have ordered it this time," he said, in answer to the boy's appealing look.
"But what have I done?" asked Eric.
The man scratched his head. "You have no employment, no means of living, and so in the eyes of the law you are a beggar and vagabond; some say you are a poacher too, and that looks very black against you," said the man, trying to speak severely.
"Poaching?" repeated Eric. "What need had I to do that? My master always took care that I had enough to eat, and I was too fond of watching the gambols of the creatures to want to kill them."
"Well, you can tell the justices that, and anything else you can think of; but I've got my orders, and I must do my duty."
Not to the friendly constable's loft was he taken this time, but to the gaol at the next town; for a beggar was accounted no better than a thief in those days, and so with pickpockets and highwaymen, he was forced to associate during the next few weeks.
That the lad should sometimes lose heart and think that God had forgotten him was not wonderful, for here in the gaol, he was forced to hear that holy name taken in vain every hour of the day; so that to think that his mother could be right when she said God cared for every soul He had created, seemed hard of belief just now.