We knew that the Duke had slept at Ilminster the past night, and therefore that he could not be here very early, since a march of sixteen miles is not made without considerable loss of time with an army of some thousands of men.
But then there was enough to do, in order to receive that army with hospitality, to keep us all busy, and I would I could describe the appearance presented by Paul's Field and the meadows adjoining, where we guessed the soldiers would encamp; for every citizen, however humble, had some small contribution to make towards the accommodation of the good Duke's army and the hospitable welcome of his followers, and the place looked like a great fair with its tents and roughly-knocked-up sheds, and its supplies of provision for man and beast hastily contributed by the eager towns-folk.
As for the number of horses in the place that day, I never saw the like. Everybody who had a horse, or could by any means obtain one, had it ready to ride forth later on to meet the Duke. I could have sold Blackbird a dozen times over for thrice his value would he but have suffered any other rider to mount him. As it was, several yeomen and gentlemen would not be satisfied without making trial of their prowess; but although one or two contrived by dint of excellent horsemanship to maintain a seat upon his back for a while, yet none after that trial desired to conclude any bargain, and Blackbird remained in mine own keeping, as I was sure from the first he would do.
Towards noon the horsemen began to gather and ride out along the Ilminster road, and I perforce went with them, though I could ill be spared from the inn; but mine uncle saw that my heart was no longer in my task, and good-naturedly bid me go forth to see the show.
Almost needless to say that there in the forefront of the riders—albeit with none but his own feet to carry him—was Will Wiseman; and so soon as he saw me he came to my side, and I gave him hold of my stirrup leather, as we had many times done before when I rode forth, and he ran beside me gallantly, as untired as the horse.
"The witch is not right, Dicon," he cried more than once; "for come what may in the future, is not this glory enow to satisfy the heart of man? Didst ever see town so bedecked as Taunton is this day? And there will be yet more to follow on the morrow!"
For Will and I knew what gay show had been devised for the morrow, and how it would be one that would rouse the enthusiasm of the town to the highest pitch. And Will (who had a wonderful gift for hearing news before anybody else) whispered to me that there would be other brave shows ere the Duke left the Queen city of the West; but when I asked him what he meant, he only laid his finger on his lips and whispered,—
"Hist, Dicon! This be not the time or place to speak of such things. But dost thou think that England will be content to follow a Duke, even though he be the son of a King? We want a King and not a Duke to reign over us. How can men flock to the standard of a Duke, when there is a King upon the throne? We must have a King, too, else all will be confusion and mischance."
This word from Will confirmed what I had heard yesterday about the Duke's leaving the town as King. I confess I was perplexed how such a thing could be, the more so as in the Declaration which I had heard read he had spoken of not insisting upon his title as yet, and only doing so at the request of Parliament. But then I had read enough history to be very well aware that no Prince could always adhere to the resolves laid down at the first. The tide of popular sentiment often carries them beyond the bound originally set; and it might be very true, as Will whispered, that the title of Duke would not be sufficient to content the ardent followers who had flocked to the banner of one whom they hoped to see reigning as England's King.