“Who calls so late? What do you wish, friend?” said the landlord.
“Food, drink, and a horse, in the King’s name; for I have ridden my own to the death, and must be in Exeter ere dawn,” the other answered.
“What!” cried the host. “You carry news belike?”
“News?” replied the other in a firmer tone. “Aye—news from Ireland. Great news!—glorious news!”
Then raising his voice so that all might hear, he continued: “Three days ago a great battle was fought upon the banks of the Boyne, in which James’s army was totally defeated. By this time William is in Dublin.”
For a moment there was a silence of sheer dismay following his words.
“And King James?” faltered the steward at length.
“The late king thou meanest, friend,” said the other sternly.
“James Stuart fled from the field and, upbraiding those around him, embarked at Kinsale and escaped to France, leaving those who were worthy of a better leader to make their own submission. All fear of him is at an end! God save King William!”
And faintly from the group behind came in echo, “God save King William!”