The next weeks flew by almost like a dream for Tom; and truly he felt he must surely be dreaming when he watched the gorgeous pageant of the third of January, and witnessed from a commanding situation the grand procession of the trophies of war as it wound its way from the Tower to Westminster Hall.
Companies of horse and foot made a brave and gallant show; row after row of pikemen with the captured standards; a goodly number of the nobles of the land; and the great Duke himself, at whose' appearance the populace shouted till they were hoarse, ladies waved handkerchiefs, and the city seemed to go mad with joy and applause.
Almost grander still was the pageant three days later, when the victor of Blenheim went in state to the Goldsmiths' Hall, to a banquet given in his honour by the Lord Mayor and Town Council. He was conveyed there in one of the royal carriages; the greatest men in the kingdom, and some princely guests, accompanied him; and again the whole city turned out to give him welcome. At Temple Bar the city marshals received him in state, garlands were flung, and trumpets proclaimed the idol of the hour. The Commons were petitioning the Queen to suggest some fitting tribute for the services of so great a man; and the gift of the royal manor of Woodstock, and the erection by royal bounty of the palace of Blenheim (although after his fall and disgrace Marlborough had to finish the palace at his own cost) were the results of this appeal.
Tom witnessed all these brave sights, and had his head well-nigh turned by all the rejoicings in which the city took part. Even Master Cale scarcely chid him for the way in which his guineas were flying; although he warned Tom that they would not last long at such a pace. But Tom laughed now, and said he had the prospect of earning more when these were gone; and Lord Claud laughed lightly when the subject came up, and told Tom that the pleasantest way with money was to spend it freely whilst it lasted, and then turn to and get more. There were a hundred ways of doing this, he assured him; and Torn half believed him, and found it mighty pleasant to throw about his gold as the young bloods of fashion did, and have a pretty costly trinket to offer to Rosamund whenever they chanced to meet.
Master Cale would rather the child had not had these gay gewgaws forced upon her; but he could not chide overmuch when he saw the brightness of her eyes and the eagerness upon her face. Besides, Tom had already spoken of his speedy departure for foreign lands; and although Rosamund pouted, and professed that it was very unkind of him to go just when they had grown to be friends, her father saw no indications of deeper feeling. And, indeed, the maid had as yet no real love for any but her father. Tom had taken her fancy, as being the finest and handsomest youth she had ever come across, but she regarded him as a being quite out of her sphere; and though her heart fluttered a little at first sight of him, she could look forward to the thought of his absence with great equanimity.
"You will come back and tell us all your adventures," she said, as though that would make up for much; and Tom faithfully promised, although he fancied there might be many reservations in the tale he would tell.
One day before the month of January had fled Tom received a summons to Lord Claud's lodging. There he found everything in confusion, servants hurrying hither and thither, and the valet packing up some sober clothing in a small valise that could be strapped across a saddle.
When Tom came face to face with Lord Claud he saw a new expression in the eyes of his patron. All the languor and indifference had fled. His whole aspect was of a man bound upon some stern errand.
"Tom," he said briefly, "the time has come. Go home and don your stoutest riding dress. Take a second with you in saddlebag or valise; and hide such money as you have left somewhere upon your person. Then come back hither, and we will dine together. We are to start upon our journey this very day; and our first stage is Holywell House, near St. Albans."