It was in November that Cromwell came at the head of his troopers to take part in the siege of Pontefract Castle. Soon after his arrival he took up his quarters at Knottingley, which lies on the riverside over against Ferrybridge. It was now my time to act, and I accordingly attired myself in my best and rode along the road to his quarters, where I presently found him, and was admitted to his presence. He remembered me at once, and listened patiently to my complaint, bidding me speak freely to him. So I took heart and told him all my story, confessing that I was willing to pay the fine imposed upon me though I acknowledged not its justice—but complaining strongly that ten times its value had been taken from me when I could not help myself. Moreover, I said that if he and his friends were anxious to do justice they would give me back my own. To which he answered that it was for justice he and his men were fighting, and that they would rob no man unjustly. Nevertheless, he continued, all must be done in a proper manner. He then counselled me to go to London, where he himself would shortly be, and to there prosecute my claim in due form, promising me that he would do what he could to aid me in securing compensation for what I had been despoiled of over and above my fine; and that I might travel in safety, he gave me a safe-conduct.
Thus it came about that I made my journey to London at a time when great events were stirring. It was not to my liking to leave home again so soon, but there was Ben to look after my affairs for me, and it was winter, when things are quiet on the land; so I decided to go, and ultimately set out for the capital on the 1st of December, .
XLII
Of the Scene Before Whitehall
I spent five days in travelling to London, riding my own horse all the way, and keeping him up to his five-and-thirty miles a day by letting him have his fill of good food and a long night’s rest between each stage of the journey. To me this adventure was full of novelty and incident, for I had never been further south than Sheffield, and knew nothing of England outside my own county, save what I had seen in the neighbourhood of the Peak when we went in search of Rose. My eyes, therefore, had plenty of occupation as I rode along the Great North Road, which busy highway I followed all the way to London, passing through the market-towns of Doncaster, Newark, Peterborough, Huntingdon, and Hatfield, in each of which I saw something worthy of notice. My mind, indeed, had never any occasion to be idle, for there was always some new object or matter claiming my attention—now a troop of soldiers passing along the road, or a country squire and his family going to their seat, now a company of drovers taking their cattle to Smithfield, and now a Cavalier riding along with dejected looks. At the inns where I rested o’ nights there was always plenty of company and no lack of conversation, but in this I engaged little, being minded to hold my tongue and let other folk do the talking. Nevertheless, I kept my ears open to what was said, being anxious to know what news was being noised abroad. The talk at all the wayside inns was of the King, men asking all travellers from London what tidings there were of his Majesty and what it was intended to do with him. Anxious, however, as all men were for news, there were few that ventured on giving their opinions on these great matters, for the army was at that time all-powerful, and a man hardly dare speak what was in his mind for fear of being heard by someone who might do him an injury.
It was late in the afternoon of the 6th of December when I came in view of the capital, and passed by the villages of Edgware and Tottenham on my way to Westminster. Then indeed I began to wonder exceedingly at the mightiness of the great city, where everything was new to me. The crowds going in and out along the streets filled me with amazement, and the great buildings by which I rode made me wonder at their size and appearance. Coming to a halt at the end of the Strand, I was forced to inquire my way to Westminster, where I intended to lodge, and was presently conducted by a boy past Whitehall to a street over against the ancient abbey, where I found the home of one Master Goodfellow, who had been recommended to me by Parson Drumbleforth. There I dismissed my guide, and having aided my host in stabling my horse, I sat down to my supper in my lodging, feeling very strange in the middle of that great city where I knew no one.
Now, this Master Goodfellow with whom I had taken up my lodging was a verger at the great Abbey of Westminster, and had been recommended to me as a good Royalist by our Vicar, who had known him in times past and had abode with him at the time of his own visit to London in the year
