now for my cousin, Master John.
Sit ye down, sweetheart, and eat."

"Nay," said Master John, "I will break no bread. Since ye force me to
this sin, I will fast for my soul's interest. But, good mine host, I
pray you of courtesy give me a cup of fair water; I shall be much
beholden to your courtesy indeed."

"Ye shall have a dispensation, go to!" cried the knight. "Shalt be well
shriven, by my faith! Content you, then, and eat."

But the lad was obstinate, drank a cup of water, and, once more wrapping
himself closely in his mantle, sat in a far corner, brooding.

In an hour or two, there rose a stir in the village of sentries
challenging and the clatter of arms and horses; and then a troop drew up
by the inn door, and Richard Shelton, splashed with mud, presented
himself upon the threshold.

"Save you, Sir Daniel," he said.

"How! Dickie Shelton!" cried the knight; and at the mention of Dick's
name the other lad looked curiously across. "What maketh Bennet Hatch?"

"Please you, sir knight, to take cognisance of this packet from Sir
Oliver, wherein are all things fully stated," answered Richard,
presenting the priest's letter. "And please you farther, ye were best
make all speed to Risingham; for on the way hither we encountered one
riding furiously with letters, and by his report, my Lord of Risingham
was sore bested, and lacked exceedingly your presence."

"How say you? Sore bested?" returned the knight. "Nay, then, we will
make speed sitting down, good Richard. As the world goes in this poor
realm of England, he that rides softliest rides surest. Delay, they say,
begetteth peril; but it is rather this itch of doing that undoes men;
mark it, Dick. But let me see, first, what cattle ye have brought.
Selden, a link here at the door!"

And Sir Daniel strode forth into the village street, and, by the red
glow of a torch, inspected his new troops. He was an unpopular neighbour
and an unpopular master; but as a leader in war he was well beloved by
those who rode behind his pennant. His dash, his proved courage, his
forethought for the soldiers' comfort, even his rough gibes, were all to
the taste of the bold blades in jack and salet.

"Nay, by the rood!" he cried, "what poor dogs are these? Here be some
as crooked as a bow, and some as lean as a spear. Friends, ye shall ride
in the front of the battle; I can spare you, friends. Mark me this old
villain on the piebald! A two-year mutton riding on a hog would look
m