Master Hungerford’s whine rose higher, and he paddled at the air as if he sought to come to some surface and breathe free.
“Great land, lady—great land, if you will, but little cash. My land holds every penny I get together. Why, ’tis well known in the country that I buy land for a thousand pound every year, wherefore I can never boast more than a guinea in ready money.”
Brilliana frowned on the floundering squire.
“This is a sad business, Master Hungerford, for the King is in need and will oblige hereafter those that oblige him now. His Majesty has made me a kind of viceroy here in Oxford. I begin to think that you incline to the Parliament, Master Paul. If I thought that, I would hold you a traitor and make perquisitions at your place.”
Master Hungerford groaned dismally:
“Lordamercy!” he moaned. “I am the loyalest knight in England. Nay, now, if you talk of perquisitions there is my neighbor Peter Rainham. I know him for a skinflint who will deny the King. Yet I know of a chest of his that is stuffed with gold pieces. Were he a true man he would shift his treasure into the King’s sack, as I would if I had such a store.”
A fantastic possibility danced into Brilliana’s brain. She glanced to where Halfman stood moodily ruminating on the method he would employ to loosen Master Hungerford’s purse-strings if he had him at his mercy in a taken town. Brilliana could not read his thoughts, which was as well, but she gave him a glance which stirred him to alertness as she resumed her interrogatory of her niggardly neighbor.
“Why, then, Master Hungerford, if he be as you say, he is little better, if better at all, than a Parliament man, and, therefore, our common enemy.”
Master Paul rubbed his lean hands in delight.
“It is indeed as you say,” he affirmed, with a sour smile that sat very vilely on his yellow face. Brilliana leaned forward, and, governing his shifty eyes, spoke very impressively.