"A truce to this foolery," interrupted another, evidently a sergeant. "We must needs be back in the camp outside Basing ere dark, and 'tis well over a good twenty miles. To horse! To horse, I say!"
Grumbling and swearing, the soldiers trooped out of the inn, and for the present our peril was past.
At dusk three men in rustic garb emerged from the Red Lion. One set off at a swinging pace down the lane leading to Clanfield, the second strode with awkward gait along a pathway over the hills towards Horndean, and the third, carrying a load of faggots, turned off down the Havant road. 'Twas the parting of the three staunch comrades.
My love-locks had been shorn close to my head, a rough smock covered a suit of worn clothes that would ill become even a farmer, while the faggots I bore served a twofold purpose. They formed a fitting complement to my disguise as a countryman, while in the centre of the bundle reposed my trusty sword, which I would not part with under any circumstances.
I had thought to return under cover of darkness to the thicket on the downs where I had buried the iron box containing the deeds and other documents relating to my home. But on further consideration I came to the conclusion that 'twould be best to let the box remain till a more convenient season.
So, shouldering my burden, I took a long last look in the direction of the distant ruined castle, and then set off resolutely along the southern road.
CHAPTER XVI
WITHOUT THE WALLS OF CARISBROOKE
I TOOK up my abode in a little cottage overlooking Wootton Creek in the Isle of Wight, hard by the village of Wootton. It was a peaceful spot, where the tide of war had not swept, though near enough, 'tis true, to see the scenes of many a stern conflict in former days.