The landlord, a big, blear-eyed rogue, much the worse for wear and ale, came shambling out at the summons. His listlessness vanished quickly enough, however, at sight of the Knight and his following; and bowing to the ground he asked how he might serve them.
"With food and drink, good fellow," said De Lacy; "and that right quickly."
"Your worship shall be accommodated immediately with what I have," said the man with another bow that almost overbalanced him, "but if it is meagre, blame the Duke of Gloucester and his men."
"His Grace has passed?" asked Aymer.
"God's truth! he has," said the fellow. "He precedes you by a day. And, saving your lordship, if you travel to the Coronation, methinks you will have but scant fare along the road. They eat things clean as they go—but pay good silver for it."
"How many has the Duke in his train?"
"At least six hundred, I should say."
"He has doubled his force since he left Pontefract," observed Aymer to his squire, as the inn-keeper retired. "And there may be truth in what the rogue says—we may find slender provision in the wake of such a column."
"If there be enough for the horses, we can soon overtake them," said the squire; "for the men, it matters little: we all are soldiers."
De Lacy nodded. "We will push on steadily, and though I know little of this country, I fancy we will come up with the Duke by to-morrow night."