It was a relief to see the moonlight blinking on the roofs of Banbury as he rode into the town. There were no nightingales here; instead, there was the hum and clamour of a Roundhead populace, infuriated by the news that two Cavaliers had broken prison in the early morning and had locked the gaoler in.
Blake found his bridle seized roughly, and it was doubtful for a moment whether he or his high-spirited mare, or the two of them, would come to grief.
"Well, friend?" he asked of the burly Puritan who held the bridle.
"Your business here?"
"To sell cloth. I come from Oxford, and have done much business there with the Court."
"Then why come selling wares in Banbury? Court fashions find no favour here."
"Cloth is cloth," said Blake impassively, "and I've some remnants going cheap."
A woman in the crowd pressed forward. "How much the yard?" she asked.
With his tired knowledge of the world, he named a price that made the woman ask eagerly for a sample. "I have no samples. The cloth itself will come in by carrier to-morrow. I'm tired and hungry," he said, smiling at the man who held his rein. "Perhaps you will direct me to a lodging for the night?"
"Was there great stir among the sons of Belial in Oxford?" asked his captor, with a shrewd sideways glance.