"Yes; you would do better to go on foot," answered the vicar. "I will see to your horse; you will find it here on your way back."
"Thank you!" said the messenger, "I shall be glad to walk. I have been riding since dawn."
"You come from London?" asked the vicar.
"Naturally," answered the man. "Do you not see I am a king's messenger? But I come from a queen." And he showed on his sleeve the embroidered lilies of France entwined with the rose of England.
"Queen Henrietta Maria of France?" said the vicar slowly.
"The same," answered the man, giving the reins he still held to the vicar. "Have you no inn in the place?" he asked.
"No," said the vicar, "but you will find good refreshment up yonder. I would offer you some myself, but it is better for a man to do his work first and eat and drink afterwards. You have not far to go."
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"Perhaps you are wise," he said, and went off.
The vicar watched him. "What news can he have brought?" he thought. "Is our peace going to be broken into?" And a look of regret crept over his face. Three peaceful years is a span in a man's life which he does not willingly see disturbed.