Georgette Heyer Read Online Free Page B

said Lauderdale tartly, for although, being an Engager, he fully shared the King's detestation of the Covenanting party that ruled Scotland, he could not but regret Charles's decision not to make for the border, and was consequently in a testy humour, 'weel, Talbot, I'll call on ye to mind 'tis ain of your own gentlemen ye've delivered us to!'
      A mile farther on, the road branched, and Giffard, who was riding ahead of the King, with his servant beside him, wheeled into the right-hand fork. The troop of horse was smaller than it had been, for some, too badly wounded in the last skirmish in Worcester to keep their saddles, had been forced to fall out and seek shelter in the countryside. The main body, in compact order, kept on, maintaining a steady trot. Faster, no one dared to go, for by this time there was scarcely light enough left for each man to discern the haunches of the horse in front of him. Giffard's servant had produced a lantern, and although its feeble glow did little to illu mine the way, it served as a beacon, bobbing ahead of the troop like a dim guiding star.
      The road was undulating, full of pits in which the water stood, stagnant and muddy. The country was so still that the thud of hooves, and the frequent splashes, sounded abnormally loud. From time to time, belts of great trees loomed up suddenly, but the greater part of the way lay through open country across which a chill wind, which carried with it a menace of rain, blew steadily and depressingly.
      It was past eleven o'clock when the first straggling houses on the outskirts of Stourbridge warned the troop that they were approaching the town. Only a few lights in upper windows still burned here and there. A momentary halt was called, and the word passed back to walk the horses through the town. In this way, the party passed down the sleeping main street, so silently that no citizen awoke to the alarming noise of hoof-beats, or thrust his head out of window to spy upon the King's escape.
      The Lord Talbot pushed forward to the King's side, asking anxiously: 'How does your Majesty?'
      'Well,' the King answered, rousing himself from his thoughts.
      'You have been in the saddle so long,' Talbot said com passionately. 'I wish –'
      'I am not tired – only hungry,' said the King, with the ghost of a laugh.
      The Lord Talbot remembered with consternation that the King had not touched food since early in the morning, when he had breakfasted. That he himself, and probably most of their companions, had been fasting for just as long seemed a matter of minor impor tance. He spoke to Lord Wilmot, whose voluminous form was just visible beyond the King. 'Harry, we must find food for his Majesty!'
      'Oh, the devil! Where?' said Wilmot, in a voice drenched with sleep. 'Are you so hungry, sir?'
      'I could eat an ox,' replied the King frankly.
      'Pass the word for an ox for his Majesty,' murmured Buckingham, close behind.
      That made the King laugh, but Talbot was too worried to see any humour in their predicament. 'We dare not let your Majesty stop in the town,' he said. 'I wish to God I knew where it may be safe to halt!'
      'Safe?' said Wilmot. 'Nowhere!'
      'I hope you may be wrong,' remarked the King, 'for if you are not I am as good as hanged already.'
      The spectre, not indeed of a halter, but of an axe, hovered before the eyes of the three who heard him. No one spoke, until the King said cheerfully: 'But I think you are wrong.'
      They had passed out of the town by this time, and once more set their horses at a trot. A mile on, lying at the foot of a steep hill, a solitary house stood by the wayside. A board swinging on creaking chains proclaimed it to be an ale-house, and a halt was called.
      The host, roused from deep sleep by a thundering upon the door, soon thrust his head out of an upper casement, and demanded querulously who was there. He was with difficulty persuaded to come down, and when he did presently