He turned his horse's head as he spoke, and, taking the eight last men of the troop with him, rode back to the rear. He had not far to go, however; for, about two hundred yards behind, he plainly saw the figures of three horsemen, one in front and two following, coming at a quick pace along the road. He halted his little troop when he could distinguish them, and as they approached nearer, exclaimed:
"Stand! Who comes here?"
"Is that thee, Lord Chartley?" asked a voice, which the young nobleman thought familiar to his ear.
"It matters not who I am," he replied; "you cannot pass till you declare yourself."
"May I never wear aught but a sorry-coloured cloth cloak and brown hosen," cried the other, "if that be not Chartley's tongue. I am Sir Edward Hungerford; do you not know me?"
"Faith, Hungerford!" replied Chartley, laughing; "like a kingfisher, you are better known by your feathers than your voice. But what brings you this way?"
"Seeking you, good my lord," replied Hungerford, riding up. "I have been over at Atherston enquiring for you, and then upon a certain green near a certain abbey; and I fear me, by riding through these roads, in this dusty August, I have utterly polluted a jerkin of sky blue satin, of the newest and quaintest device--would you could see it; and yet now 'tis hardly fit to be seen, I doubt--but faith, all the news I could get of you, was that you had ridden away towards Fazely, where your musters are making, and, as I rode down to the bridge on the Coleshill road, I caught a sound of horses' feet, and followed."
"But what might be your object?" asked Chartley; "what your pressing business with me?"
"Nay, I will tell you, when we get to Fazely," replied Hungerford; "and we had better ride on quick, for I must bear back an answer to Tamworth to-night."
The society of Sir Edward Hungerford, at Fazely, was by no means what Chartley desired; and he determined on his course at once.