“Of course I do—just that.”
“Then, I should say, ’tis they who’ve had the narrow escape.”
“Nein, Colonel! Not so certain of that, knowing who they are. These Foresters fight like devils; and, from all I could gather, they greatly outnumber us. I shouldn’t so much mind the odds, but for how we’re hampered. To have fought them, and got the worst of it, would have been ruinous to our reputation—as to the other thing.”
“It isn’t likely we’d have got the worst of it. Few get the better of your Highness that way.”
Lunsford’s brave talk was not in keeping with his thoughts. Quite as pleased was he as the Prince at their having escaped an encounter with the party of Parliamentarians. For never man dreaded meeting man more than he Sir Richard Walwyn. Words had of late been conveyed to him—from camp to camp and across neutral lines—warning words, that his old enemy was more than ever incensed against him, and in any future conflict where the two should be engaged meant singling him out, and seeking his life. After what he had done now, was still doing, he knew another encounter with Walwyn would be one of life and death, and dreaded it accordingly.
“Still, Prince,” he added, “as you observe, considering our encumbrances, perhaps it’s been for the best letting them off.”
“Ay, if they let us off. Which they may not yet. Suppose some of the townsmen have followed, and told them of our passing through?”
“No fear of that, Prince. If any one did follow it’s not likely they could be overtaken. They were riding as in a race, and won’t draw bridle till they see the blaze over Hollymead. Then they’ll but gallop the faster—in the wrong direction.”
“The right one for us, if they do. But even so they would reach Hollymead in less than an hour; then turn short round to pursue, and in another hour be upon our heels. You forget that we can’t say safety, till we’re over the Severn.”
“I don’t forget that, Prince. But they won’t turn round to pursue us.”