“You speak truly, master,” said the man, getting slowly down from his saddle as if he were stiff with long riding. “You speak truly indeed. Beshrew me if I have drawn rein since I passed Conisbrough Castle, as you may believe by looking at my beast. As for the despatches, I care not about immediate deliverance of them, so long as they fall not into the enemy’s hands.”
“We are for the King here,” I said, and led him into the kitchen, whither he followed me with great readiness, “and your despatches will be safe enough, for there has been no fighting in this quarter as yet, whatever there may be to come.”
“You are well off,” said he, sinking down like a tired man upon the long settle. “By the great Turk! but we had a fair brush of it at Edgehill yonder. A plague take this war, say I! If it were with one’s natural enemies, Spaniard or Turk, well and good, but as it is—”
“Then Master Drumbleforth has been at Edgehill?” I said. “Is he well, and is Master Lisle with him?”
“They are both thereabouts,” he answered, “or maybe at this present they are on the road towards London, for his Majesty is minded to spend Christmas at Whitehall, and is pushing on thither.”
“Then the King hath won the fight at Edgehill?”
“Why that, master, is more than I can say. Myself, I should say ’twas a drawn game. However, Essex and his men have retreated southwards, and the royal forces are after them.”
By that time the maids had brought food and drink, and placed them before the messenger; so bidding him refresh himself and spare not, I carried the letters into my mother’s parlour, where she and Parson Drumbleforth and the two girls were seated conversing in the firelight. For it was now growing dark and cold o’ nights, and we were always glad to get the curtain drawn and the candles lighted, so that we might hear the wind and rain outside, and feel comfortable that we were safely housed.
“News from the wars!” I cried, holding up the two letters. “A messenger carrying despatches for Colonel Lowther hath brought them with him. Here is one for you, sir, from Jack, and another for me. Mistress Rose, there is naught from your father, but he is well, so the messenger says, and maybe he has enclosed somewhat in Jack’s letter.”
So I whipped out my knife, and cut away the cover, but there was no letter for Rose lying therein.
“He hath been too busy to write,” she said, smiling, “but he will have sent some message by Master Drumbleforth’s letter. So long as he is well I care not.”
Now, the Vicar had eagerly opened his own epistle, and was peering at it through his glasses, while my mother and Lucy stood eagerly by to hear the news.
“Are they well, sir?” inquired my mother. “Pray God they both be in good health, so far away from home and friends as they are. ’Tis poor work to be sick in a strange country.”
“Why,” said Parson Drumbleforth, “they seem to be well enough, mistress, judging from the manner in which my son writes to me. Nevertheless, his epistle is a somewhat short one, and dealeth in little news. But if ye will give ear I will read it to you, so that we may all share in it.”
So when he had cleared his voice, he read as follows:
“At the King’s Camp near Edgehill,
“.“To the Rev. Mr. Drumbleforth, M.A., Vicar of Darrington in the County of Yorkshire. These:
“Honoured Father—There being a messenger about to carry despatches from our camp here unto Colonel Lowther at Pontefract Castle, I am minded to write these to your Reverence, in the hope that they may find you in as good health as I now enjoy, for which I thank God heartily. I would have you know that there hath been a great fight here at Edgehill, in which both Master Lisle and myself figured without hurt to ourselves, save that Master Lisle hath gotten a cut across the fingers of his right hand which doth prevent him at present from holding a pen. For this reason I am about writing a long letter to Will Dale, so that he may give news to Mistress Rose, and as I am no hand at much writing of epistles, I will beg you, honoured sir, to step along the highway to Dale’s Field and learn the news there. Only I will here tell you that I am now in very good health, and have as yet come in no great need of anything, though, indeed, my shirts are becoming ragged, and my half-hose are well-nigh worn through. Yea, indeed, you might say to Mistress Deborah that if she hath any linen or other body-clothes of mine stored away, she would do well to pack it up, and send it to me by the bearer of this, who will return hither shortly. For I wish not to be reduced to the condition of some who, having but one shirt, are forced to go without while what they have is washed—”
“Poor things, poor things!” said my mother. “Alas! the war is a terrible matter. What would their mothers say if they could see them in such a plight?”
“I will resume,” said the Vicar.
“As to food, honoured sir, we have so far done fairly well, and I have grown no thinner. Likewise the life so far hath suited my mind very well, though I know not how it may be when the winter sets in. However, we have beaten back the enemy, and are now following him towards London, where the King means to spend Christmas. And so, sir, assuring you that I am well in body and mind, and do strive to fulfil all my duties as a Christian man, I will refer you to
