“Ah! you mus’n’t stop at Coleford, much less sleep there.”
“And why not?”
“The Coleford people are mad angry with the King, as are most others in the Forest. No wonder, from the way Sir John Wintour has been behaving to them since he got the monopoly grant of what his Majesty had no right to give—rights that are theirs. Their blood’s up about it, and just now to appear in the streets of Coleford dressed as you are, cavalier and courtier fashion, might be attended with danger.”
“I’ll risk—defy it!”
“Bravely spoken, and I’ve no doubt you’d bravely do both. But there’s no need for your doing one or the other.”
“If you describe these Coleford fellows aright, how can I help it, Sir Richard? My road passes through their town.”
“True, but there’s a way you may avoid it.”
“Oh! I’m not going to skulk round, taking bypaths, like a thief or deer-stealer. I’ll give them a fight first.”
“And that fight might be your last—likely would, Master Trevor. But no. You’ve fought your way into the Forest so gallantly, it behoves him you all but conquered to see you safe out of it. To do which, however, I must ask you to give up all thoughts of sleeping either at Monmouth or Coleford, and be my guest for the night.”
“But where, Sir Richard? I did not know that you had a house in the Forest.”