Ludar laughed.
“If so,” said he, “he would have better sport on foot than to practise on an outlaw like me. No, Humphrey, he is a loyal man, as, pray heaven, so am I. And he commands me in a name I cannot resist.”
“Then,” said I, sadly, “we part. I would have served you, Ludar, on any other service. But I, too, have a Queen, who owns me.”
“So be it,” said he. “I expected it; and naught else could part me from you. Be sure we shall meet again, Humphrey, when all is over.”
“Who knows but it may be on the field of battle?” said I, sadly. “Yet, tell me where I shall hear of you; and take note where you shall hear of me. For I will back to London—”
“To your love,” said he, with a sigh. “So be it. You shall hear of me there, Humphrey.”
“And, before we part,” said I, taking his great hand, “swear me an oath, Ludar, that you will not forget me.”
He flung my hand away impatiently.
“Do you take me for a knave, brother? I swear to you, that next to my Queen, my father, and the memory of her who once loved me, you have the chiefest right to say, ‘Ludar, help me,’ and if I forget you, ’twill be that I have forgotten I am a man.”
That comforted me vastly, and I too made my vow.