For the next three or four months, Oswald was but little at the castle;
Percy utilizing his services, in the manner most agreeable to him, by
sending him on errands to various knights and gentlemen, in different
parts of Northumberland, and to the fortified places held by the
English across the Border. A fortnight after his contest with Sinclair,
Sir Henry formally appointed him one of his esquires.
"You are young," he said, "for such a post; but as you have shown that
you are well able to take care of yourself in arms, and as I perceive
you to be shrewd and worthy of confidence, your age matters but little.
As my messenger, you will be more useful travelling as one of my
esquires, than as one without settled rank; and I can not only send
written communications by you, but can charge you to speak fully in my
name, and with my authority."
Oswald was not slow in finding out the advantages that the position
gave him. On the first errands on which he had been sent, he had been
treated as but an ordinary messenger, had been placed at dinner below
the salt, and herded with the men-at-arms. As an esquire of Lord Percy,
he was treated with all courtesy, was introduced to the ladies of the
family, sat at the high table, and was regarded as being in the
confidence of his lord. His youth excited some little surprise, but
acted in his favour, because it was evident that Percy would not have
nominated him as one of his esquires, had he not shown particular
merit. In his journeys, he often passed near Yardhope, where the
rebuilding of the wall and keep was being pushed on with much vigour;
the inhabitants of the villages in the valley lending their assistance
to restore the fortalice, which they regarded as a place of refuge, in
case of sudden invasion by the Scots. His parents were both greatly
pleased at his promotion, especially his mother, who had always been
anxious that he should not settle down to the adventurous, and
dangerous, life led by his father.
"By our Lady," John Forster said, "though it be but six months since
you first left us, you have changed rarely. I speak not of your fine
garments, but you have grown and widened out, and are fast springing
from a boy into a man; and it is no small thing that Percy should have
thought so well of you as to make you one of his esquires, already."
"It was from no merit of mine, Father, but because he thought that, as
his messenger, I should be able to speak in his name with more
authority than had I been merely the bearer of a letter from him."
"'Tis not only that," his father replied. "I received a letter but two
days since from my brother Alwyn, written by the hand of a monk of his
acquaintance, telling me that Lord Percy was mightily pleased with you;
not only because you had set yourself to read and write, but from the
way in which you had defeated one of his esquires in a bout at arms.
Alwyn said that he doubted not that you would win knightly spurs, as
soon as you came to full manhood. So it is clear that merit had
something to do with your advancement, though this may be also due, to
some extent, to the cause you assign for it. The monk who wrote the
letter added, on his own account, that he had been your preceptor; and
that, though he had often rated you soundly, you had made wonderful
progress."
"The monk is a good teacher," Oswald laughed; "but he would have made a
better man-at-arms than he will ever make a monk. I believe it pleased
him more that I worsted Sinclair--which indeed was a small thing to do,
seeing that he had no idea of fighting, save of charging straight at a
foe--than at the progress I made at my books. He commands the
contingent that the monastery sends, when Percy takes the field to
repel an invasion; and, could he have his own will, would gladly
exchange a monk's robes for the harness of a man-at-arms. I would wish
for no stouter companion in the fray."
The speed with which he had performed his journeys, and the
intelligence which he showed in carrying out his missions and reporting
on their issue, earned for the lad an increasing amount of liking and
confidence, on the part of his lord. It was not only that he delivered
the replies to Hotspur's messages accurately; but his remarks, upon the
personal manner and bearing of those to whom he was sent, were of still
greater value to Percy. Naturally, all had promised to have their
contingent of fighting men ready, in case of serious invasion by the
Scots; but Oswald was able to gather, from their manner, whether the
promises would surely be fulfilled; or whether, in case of trouble, the
knights were more likely to keep their array for the defence of their
own castles than to join Percy in any general movement.
One day, when Oswald had been engaged six months at this work, which
had taken him several times into Cumberland and Westmoreland, as well
as the north, Lord Percy summoned him to his private apartment.
"Hitherto you have done well, Oswald, and I feel now that I can trust
you with a mission of far higher importance than those you have
hitherto performed. 'Tis not without its dangers, but I know that you
will like it none the less for that reason. You are young, indeed, for
business of such importance; but it seems to me that, of those around
me, you would be best fitted to carry it out. Your manner of speech has
changed much, since you came here; but doubtless you can fall at will
into the border dialect, which differs little from that on the other
side; and you can pass, well enough, as coming from Jedburgh, or any
other place across the border.
"All the world knows, lad, that George, Earl of March and Dunbar, was
mightily offended at Rothesay breaking off the match with his daughter,
and marrying the child of his rival Douglas; but now I am going to tell
you what the world does not know, and which is a secret that would cost
many a life, were it to be blabbed abroad, and which I should not tell
you, had I not a perfect confidence in your discretion. The anger of
March--as he is mostly called on this side of the border, while in
Scotland they more often call him Earl of Dunbar--goes beyond mere
displeasure with the Douglas, and sullen resentment against Rothesay.
He has sent a confidential messenger to me, intimating that he is ready
to acknowledge our king as his sovereign, and place himself and his
forces at his disposal.
"I see you are surprised, as is indeed but natural; but the Marches
have ever been rather for England than for Scotland, although they have
never gone so far as to throw off their allegiance to the Scottish
throne. It is not for us to consider whether March is acting
treacherously, to James of Scotland; but whether he is acting in good
faith, towards us.
"It was easy for him to send a messenger to me, since Scotland trades
with England, and a ship bound for London might well touch at one of
our ports on the way down; but the presence of an Englishman, at
Dunbar, would not be so readily explained. His messenger especially
enjoined on me not to send any communication in writing, even by the
most trustworthy hand; since an accident might precipitate matters, and
drive him to take up arms, before we were in a position to give him
aid. Therefore, in the first place, I wish you to journey to Dunbar, to
see the earl, and deliver to him the message I shall give you, and
endeavour to inform yourself how far he is to be trusted. Say what he
will, I can scarce bring myself to believe that he will really throw
off his allegiance to Scotland; save in the event of a great English
army marching north, when doubtless he would do what most Scotch nobles
have always done, namely, hasten to give in his submission, and make
the best terms he can, for himself. 'Tis a business which I like not,
although it is my duty to accept a proposal that, if made in good
faith, would be of vast value to the king.
"You must, after seeing the earl, return here with all speed, to bear
me any message March may give you, and to report your impressions as to
his sincerity, and good faith. 'Tis a month since I received his
message. Since then, I have communicated with the king, and have
received his authority to arrange terms with March, to guarantee him in
the possession of his lordships, to hand over to him certain tracts of
the Douglas country which he bargained for, and to assure him of our
support. But he must be told that the king urges him to delay, at
present, from taking any open steps; as, in the first place, he is
bound by the truce just arranged, for the next two years; and in the
second because, having no just cause of quarrel with Scotland, and
being at present but newly seated on the throne, he would have
difficulty in raising an army for the invasion of that country. The
king is ready to engage himself not to renew the truce, and to collect
an army, in readiness to act in concert with him, as soon as it is
terminated.
"The earl has sent, by his messenger, a ring; which, on being presented
at Dunbar, will gain for the person who carries it immediate access to
him; and I shall also give you my signet, in token that you are come
from me. You will carry, also, a slip of paper that can be easily
concealed, saying that you have my full authority to speak in my name.
You yourself can explain to him that I have selected you for the
mission because of your knowledge of border speech, and because a youth
of your age can pass unobserved, where a man might excite attention and
remark, and possibly be detained, until he could render a satisfactory
account of himself.
"Here are the conditions, set down upon paper. Take it, and commit them
to heart, and then tear the paper into shreds, and burn them. As far as
Roxburgh you can, of course, ride as my squire; but beyond, you must
travel in disguise. This you had better procure here, and take with
you; for although the Governor of Roxburgh is a trusty knight, it were
best that no soul should know that you go on a mission to March; and I
shall simply give you a letter to him, stating that you are engaged in
a venture in my service, and that your horse and armour are to be kept
for you, until your return."
Thanking Lord Percy for the honour done him, in selecting him for the
mission, and promising him to carry it out, to the best of his power,
Oswald retired and, making his way up to an inner room, set about
learning the contents of the paper given him, which was, indeed, a copy
of the royal letter to Percy. When he had thoroughly mastered all the
details, and could repeat every word, he followed Sir Henry's
instructions, tore the letter up, and carefully burned every fragment.
Then he went out into the town, and bought garments suited for
travelling unnoticed in Scotland, the dress being almost identical on
both sides of the border, save for the lowland Scotch bonnet.
On his return, he found that Lord Percy had sent for him during his
absence, and he at once went to his apartments.
"I have been thinking over this matter further," Sir Henry said. "The
abbot came in, just as you left me; and, among other things, he
mentioned that friar Roger had again fallen into disgrace, having gone
so far as to strike the sub-prior on the cheek, almost breaking the jaw
of that worthy man; and that, finding discipline and punishment of no
avail with him, he was about to expel him, in disgrace, from the
community. He said that he had only retained him so long on account of
my goodwill for the fellow, and from the fact that he would, as I had
often urged, be most valuable as leader of the abbot's forces, in case
of troubles with the Scots, but that his last offence has passed all
bearing.
"For the time I could say nothing, for discipline must be maintained,
in a monastery as well as in the castle; but after the abbot had left
me, and I was walking up and down in vexation over the affair--for I
like the rascal, in spite of his ways, and there is no one else who
could so well lead the contingent of the monastery--a thought occurred
to me. I like not your going altogether alone, for the times are
lawless, and you might meet trouble on the road; and yet I did not see
whom I could send with you. Now it seems to me that this stout knave
would make an excellent companion for you.
"In the first place, you like him, and he likes you; secondly, a monk
travelling north on a mission, say from the abbot to the prior of a
monastery near Dunbar, could pass anywhere unheeded; and in the third
place, although as a peaceful man he could carry no military arms, he
might yet take with him a staff, with which I warrant me he would be a
match for two or three ordinary men; and lastly, I may be able to
convince the abbot that he can thus get rid of him from the monastery,
for some time, and avoid the scandals he occasions, and yet hold him
available on his return for military service.
"What say you, lad?"
"I should like it much, Sir Henry. I could wish for no stouter
companion; and although he may be quarrelsome with his fellows, it is,
methinks, solely because the discipline of the monastery frets him, and
he longs for a more active life; but I believe that he could be fully
trusted to behave himself discreetly, were he engaged in outdoor work,
and there can be no doubt that he is a stout man-at-arms, in all ways."
"I should not trust him, in any way, with the object of your mission.
If I obtain the abbot's consent, I shall simply send for him, rate him
soundly for his conduct, but telling him I make all allowances for his
natural unfitness for his vocation; and that I have, as a matter of
grace, obtained from the abbot permission to use his services for a
while, and to suspend his sentence upon him, until it be seen how he
comports himself; and, with that view, I am about to send him as your
companion, on a commission with which I have intrusted you, to the town
of Dunbar. I shall hint that, if he behaves to my satisfaction, I may
persuade the abbot to allow him to remain in my service, until the time
comes when he may be useful to the convent for military work; he still
undertaking to drill the lay brothers, and keep the abbot's contingent
in good order; and that, when the troubles are at an end, I will obtain
for him full absolution from his vows, so that he may leave the
monastery without the disgrace of being expelled, and may then take
service with me, or with another, as a man-at-arms.
"I wish you to be frank with me. If you would rather go alone, matters
shall remain as they are."
"I would much rather that he went with me, my lord. From the many
conversations that I have had with him, I am sure that he is shrewd and
clever, and that, once beyond the walls of the monastery and free to
use his weapon, he would be full of resource. There is doubtless much
lawlessness on both sides of the border, and although I should seem but
little worth robbing, two travel more pleasantly than one; and the monk
has taken such pains with me, and has been so kind, that there is no
one with whom I would travel, with greater pleasure."
"Then I will go across to the monastery, at once, and see the abbot;
and I doubt not that he will grant my request, for, much and often as
brother Roger has given him cause for anger, I know that he has a sort
of kindness for him, and will gladly avoid the necessity for punishing
and disgracing him. If all is arranged, the monk shall come over here,
and see you."
An hour later, Brother Roger came in to the captain's quarters.
"So you have been in trouble again, Brother Roger," Alwyn Forster said
with a laugh, as he held out his hand to him.
"That have I, and an hour ago I was lying in a prison cell, cursing my
hot temper; and with, as it seemed, the certainty of being publicly
unfrocked, and turned out like a mangy dog from a pack. It was not,
mind you, that the thought of being unfrocked was altogether
disagreeable; for I own that I am grievously ill fitted for my
vocation, and that fasts and vigils are altogether hateful to me; but
it would not be a pleasant thing to go out into the world as one who
had been kicked out, and though I might get employment as a
man-at-arms, I could never hope for any promotion, however well I might
behave. However, half an hour ago the cell door was opened, and I was
taken before the abbot, whom I found closeted with Hotspur.
"The latter rated me soundly, but said that, for the sake of Otterburn,
he had spoken for me to the abbot; and that as he would, for the
present, be able to make use of me in work that would be more to my
liking, the abbot had consented to reconsider his decision, and would
lend me to him for a time, in hopes that my good conduct would, in the
end, induce him to overlook my offences; and that, in that case, he
might even be induced to take steps, of a less painful description than
public disgrace, for freeing me of my gown.
"I naturally replied that I was grateful for his lordship's
intercession; and that, outside monkish offices, there was nothing I
would not do to merit his kindness. He told me that I was to report
myself to your nephew, who would inform me of the nature of the service
upon which I was, at first, to be employed."
"It is to undertake a journey with me," Oswald said. "I am going on a
mission for our lord, to Dunbar. The object of my mission is one that
concerns me only, but it is one of some importance; and as the roads
are lonely, since March and Douglas quarrelled, and order is but badly
kept on the other side of the border, he thought that I should be all
the better for a companion. Assuredly, I could wish for none better
than yourself, for in the first place you have proved a true friend to
me; in the second, you have so much knowledge, that we shall not lack
subjects for conversation upon the journey; and lastly, should I get
into any trouble, I could reckon upon you as a match for two or three
border robbers."
"Nothing could be more to my taste," the monk said joyfully. "I did not
feel quite sure, before, whether I was glad or sorry that my expulsion
was put off, for I always thought that it would come to that some day;
but now that I learn for what service Hotspur intends me, I feel as if
I could shout for joy.
"Get me a flagon of beer, good Alwyn. I have drunk but water for the
last twenty-four hours, and was in too great haste, to learn what was
before me, even to pay a visit to brother Anselm, the cellarer, who is
a stanch friend of mine.
"And do I go as a man-at-arms, Master Oswald? For, as your mission is
clearly of a private character, disguise may be needful."
"No, Roger, you will go in your own capacity, as a monk, journeying on
a mission from the abbot to the head of some religious community, near
Dunbar. I doubt not that Lord Percy will obtain a letter from the
abbot, and though it may be that there will be no need to deliver it,
still it may help us on the way. As you are going with me, I shall
attire myself as a young lay servitor of the convent."
"I would that it had been otherwise," the monk said, with a sigh. "I
should have travelled far more lightly, in the heaviest mail harness,
than in this monk's robe. Besides, how can I carry arms, for use in
case of necessity?"
"You can carry a staff," Oswald said, laughing; "and being so big a
man, you will assuredly require a long and heavy one; and, even if it
is heavily shod with iron, no one need object."
"That is not so bad, Master Oswald. A seven-foot staff, of the
thickness of my wrist; with an iron shoe, weighing a pound or two, is a
carnal weapon not to be despised. As you doubtless know, our bishops,
when they ride in the field, always carry a mace instead of a sword, so
that they may not shed blood; though I say not that the cracking of a
man's skull is to be accomplished, without some loss thereof. However,
if a bishop may lawfully crack a man's head, as an eggshell, I see not
that blame can attach to me, a humble and most unworthy son of the
church, if some slight harm should come to any man, from the use of so
peaceful an instrument as a staff. And how about yourself, young
master?"
"I can carry a sword," Oswald replied. "In times like these, no man
travels unarmed; and as I go as a servitor, and an assistant to your
reverence, there will be nothing unseemly in my carrying a weapon, to
defend you from the attack of foes."
"You can surely take a dagger, too. A dagger is a meet companion to a
sword, and is sometimes mighty useful, in a close fight. And, mark me,
take a smaller dagger also, that can be concealed under your coat. I
myself will assuredly do the same. There are many instances in which a
trifle of that kind might come in useful, such as for shooting the lock
of a door, or working out iron bars."
"I will do so," Oswald said, "though I hope there will be no occasion,
such as you say, for its use."
"When do we start, Master Oswald?"
"Tomorrow, at daybreak. We shall ride as far as Roxburgh. I shall go on
my own horse, which, though as good an animal as was ever saddled, has
but a poor appearance. You had best purchase a palfrey, as fat and
sleek as may be found, but with strength enough to carry your weight. I
shall be amply provided with money; and if you find a bargain, let me
know, and I will give you the means. Mind, buy nothing that looks like
a warhorse, but something in keeping with your appearance."
That evening, Oswald had another interview with Percy, and received his
final instructions, and a bag of money.
"Be careful with it, lad," he said; "not so much because of the use
that it may be to you, but because, were you seized and searched by
robbers, and others, the sight of the gold might awake suspicions that
you were not what you seemed, and might lead to a long detention. Keep
your eye on Brother Roger, and see that he does not indulge too much in
the wine cups, and that he comports himself rather in keeping with his
attire, than with his natural disposition; and if you have any
difficulty in restraining him, or if he does not obey your orders, send
him back, at once. Will you see him again this evening?"
"He is waiting for me in my apartment, now, my lord, having come for
the money for the purchase of a palfrey, which I bade him get."
"Send him to me, when you get there."
When the monk appeared before Hotspur, the latter said, "See here,
monk, I have saved you from punishment, and become, as it were, your
surety. See that you do not discredit me. You will remember that,
although my young esquire may ask your advice, and benefit by your
experience, he is your leader; and his orders, when he gives them, are
to be obeyed as promptly as if it were I myself who spoke, to one of my
men-at-arms. He is my representative in the matter, and is obeying my
orders, as you will obey his. The mission is one of importance, and if
it fails from any fault of yours, you had better drown yourself in the
first river you come to, than return to Northumberland."
"I think that you can trust me, my lord," the monk said, calmly. "I am
a very poor monk, but methinks that I am not a bad soldier; and
although I go in the dress of the one, I shall really go as the other.
I know that my duty, as a soldier, will be to obey. Even as regards my
potations, which I own are sometimes deeper than they should be,
methinks that, as a soldier, I shall be much less thirsty than I was as
a monk. If the enterprise should fail from any default of mine, your
lordship may be sure that I shall bear your advice in mind."
"I doubt not that you will do well, Roger. I should not have sent you
with my esquire, on such a business, had I not believed that you would
prove yourself worthy of my confidence. I know that a man may be a good
soldier, and even a wise counsellor, though he may be a very bad monk."
The next morning the pair rode out from the castle, at daybreak. Roger
was dressed in the usual monkish attire of the time, a long loose gown
with a cape, and a head covering resembling a small turban. He rode a
compactly built little horse, which seemed scarce capable of carrying
his weight, but ambled along with him as if it scarcely felt it. Oswald
was dressed as a lay servitor, in tightly-fitting high hose, short
jerkin girt in by a band at the waist, and going half-way down to the
knee. He rode his own moorland horse, and carried on his arm a basket
with provisions for a day's march. He wore a small cloth cap, which
fell down to his neck behind. His uncle accompanied him to the gate,
which was, by his orders, opened to give them egress.
"Goodbye, lad," he said. "I know not, and do not wish to know, the
object of your journey. It is enough for me that it is a confidential
mission for Hotspur, and I am proud that you should have been chosen
for it, and I feel convinced that you will prove you have merited our
lord's confidence.
"Goodbye, friend Roger! Don't let your love of fisticuffs and hard
knocks carry you away, but try and bear yourself as if you were still
in the monastery, with the abbot keeping his eye upon you."
Brother Roger laughed.
"You make a cold shiver run down my back, Alwyn. I was feeling as if I
had just got out of a cold cellar, into the sunshine, and could shout
with very lightness of heart. I am not in the least disposed to quarrel
with anyone, so let your mind be easy as to my doings. I shall be
discretion itself; and even if I am called upon to strike, will do so
as gently as may be, putting only such strength into the blow as will
prevent an opponent from troubling us further."
So, with a wave of the hand, they rode on.
"I had better strap that staff beside your saddle, and under your
knee," Oswald said, when they had ridden a short distance. "You carry
it as if it were a spear, and I have seen already three or four people
smile, as we passed them."
Roger reluctantly allowed Oswald to fasten the staff beside him.
"One wants something in one's hands," he said. "On foot it does not
matter so much, but now I am on horseback again, I feel that I ought to
have a spear in hand, and a sword dangling at my side."
"You must remember that you are still a monk, Roger, although enlarged
for a season. Some day, perhaps, you will be able to gratify your
desires in that way. You had best moderate the speed of your horse, for
although he ambles along merrily, at present, he can never carry that
great carcase of yours, at this pace, through our journey."
"I should like one good gallop," Roger sighed, as he pulled at the
rein, and the horse proceeded at a pace better suited to the appearance
of its rider.
"A nice figure you would look, with your robes streaming behind you,"
Oswald laughed. "There would soon be a story going through the country,
of a mad monk.
"Now, we take this turning to the right, and here leave the main north
road, for we are bound, in the first place, to Roxburgh."
"I thought that it must be that, or Berwick, though I asked no
questions."
"We shall not travel like this beyond Roxburgh, but shall journey
forward on foot."
"I supposed that we should come to that, Master Oswald, for otherwise
you would not have told me to provide myself with a staff."
They journeyed pleasantly along. Whenever they approached any town or
large village, Oswald reined back his horse a little, so that its head
was on a level with Roger's stirrup. They slept that night at
Kirknewton, where they put up at a small hostelry. Oswald had intended
going to the monastery there, but Roger begged so earnestly that they
should put up elsewhere, that he yielded to him.
"I should have no end of questions asked, as to our journey across the
border, and its object," Roger said; "and it always goes against my
conscience to have to lie, unless upon pressing occasions."
"And, moreover," Oswald said, with a laugh, "you might be expected to
get up to join the community at prayers, at midnight; and they might
give you a monk's bed, instead of a more comfortable one in the guest
chambers."
"There may be something in that," Roger admitted, "and I have so often
to sleep on a stone bench, for the punishment of my offences, that I
own to a weakness for a soft bed, when I can get one."
However, Oswald was pleased to see that his follower behaved, at their
resting place, with more discretion than he could have hoped for;
although he somewhat surprised his host, by the heartiness of his
appetite; but, on the other hand, he was moderate in his potations, and
talked but little, retiring to a bed of thick rushes, at curfew.
"In truth, I was afraid to trust myself," he said to Oswald, as they
lay down side by side. "Never have I felt so free, since
Otterburn--never, indeed, since that unfortunate day when I was
wounded, and conceived the fatal idea of becoming a monk. Two or three
times, the impulse to troll out a trooper's song was so strong in me,
that I had to clap my hand over my mouth, to keep it in."
"'Tis well you did, Roger, for assuredly if you had so committed
yourself, on the first day of starting, I must have sent you back to
Alnwick, feeling that it would not be safe for you to proceed with me
farther. When we get upon the Cheviots, tomorrow, you may lift your
voice as you choose; but it were best that you confined yourself to a
Latin canticle, even there, for the habit of breaking into songs of the
other kind might grow upon you."
"I will do so," Roger said, seriously. "Some of the canticles have
plenty of ring and go, and the words matter not, seeing that I do not
understand them."
The next morning they resumed their journey, crossed the Cheviots,
which were here comparatively low hills; and, after four hours' riding,
arrived at Roxburgh.
"Why do we come here?" Roger asked. "It would surely have been much
shorter had we travelled through Berwick, and along the coast road."
"Much shorter, Roger; but Sir Henry thought it better that we should go
inland to Haddington, and thence east to Dunbar; as, thus entering the
town, it would seem that we came from Edinburgh, or from some western
monastery; whereas, did we journey by the coast road, it might be
guessed that we had come from England."
As before, they put up at a hostelry; and Oswald then proceeded, on
foot, to the governor's house. Some soldiers were loitering at the
door.
"What do you want, lad?" one of them asked, as he came up.
"I have a letter, which I am charged to deliver into the governor's own
hands."
"A complaint, I suppose, from some worthy prior, who has lost some of
his beeves?"
"Maybe the governor will inform you, if you ask him," Oswald replied.
"I shall pull your ear for you, when you come out, young jackanapes,"
the soldier said, hotly.
"That danger I must even risk. Business first, and pleasure
afterwards."
And while the other soldiers burst into a fit of laughter, at the
astonishment of their comrade at what he deemed the insolence of this
young servitor of a monastery, he quietly entered. The guard at the
door, who had heard the colloquy, led him into the governor's room.
"A messenger with a letter desires speech with you, Sir Philip," he
said.
"Bid him enter," the knight said, briefly.
Oswald entered, and bowed deeply. He waited until the door closed
behind the attendant, and then said:
"I am the bearer of a letter, sir, from Lord Percy to you."
The knight looked at him in surprise.
"Hotspur has chosen a strange messenger," he muttered to himself, as he
took the missive Oswald held out to him, cut the silk that bound it
with a dagger, and read its contents. As he laid it down, he rose to
his feet.
"Excuse my want of courtesy," he said. "Lord Percy tells me that you
are one of his esquires--no slight recommendation--and that you are
intrusted with somewhat important a mission, on his part, to Dunbar, a
still higher recommendation--for assuredly he would not have selected
you for such a purpose, had you not stood high in his regard. But,
indeed, at first I took you for what you seemed, as the bearer of a
complaint from some abbot; for in truth, such complaints are not
uncommon, for whenever a bullock is lost, they put it down to my men.
"Where are your horses that Percy speaks of? You will, I hope, take up
your abode here, as long as you stay in the town."
"Thank you, Sir Philip; but I shall go forward in the morning. I have
already put up at the Golden Rose. It would attract attention, were I
to come here, and it were best that I remain as I am; and indeed, I
have brought no clothes with me, save those I stand in."
"Well, perhaps, as you do not wish to attract attention, it were best
so; and I pray you inform Lord Percy of the reason why you declined my
entertainment."
"I shall be glad, Sir Philip, if you will send down a couple of your
men to fetch the horses up to your stables; as I shall start, as soon
as the gates are open, tomorrow morning."
"I will do so, at once."
And the governor rang a handbell on the table.
"Send two of the men up here," he said, as an attendant entered.
A minute later a door opened, and two soldiers came in, and saluted.
One of them, to Oswald's amusement, was the man with whom he had
exchanged words, below.
"You will accompany this gentleman to the Golden Rose, and bring back
two horses, which he will hand over to you, and place them in the
stables with mine.
"Are you sure, Master Forster, that there is nothing more that I can do
for you?"
"Nothing, whatever, I thank you, sir; and I am greatly obliged by your
courtesy, and with your permission I will take my leave. I hope to
return here in the course of a week, or ten days."
So saying, Oswald shook hands with the governor and went downstairs,
followed by the soldiers, who had not yet recovered from their surprise
at seeing Oswald seated, and evidently on familiar terms with their
lord. Oswald said nothing to them, until he arrived at the Golden Rose.
Then he led the way to the stables, and handed the horses over to them.
"I suppose that that pulling of the ear will be deferred, for a time?"
he said, with a smile, to the soldier who had made the remark.
The man sheepishly took hold of the bridle.
"I could not tell, sir--" he began.
"Of course you could not," Oswald interrupted. "Still, it may be a
lesson, to you, that it is just as well not to make fun of people,
until you are quite sure who they are. There, I bear no malice; get
yourselves a stoup of wine, in payment for your services."
"I thought that there was something out of the way about him," the
other man said, as they walked up the street with the two horses; "or
he would never have turned upon you, as he did. It is evident that he
is someone of consequence, and is here on some secret business or
other, with Sir Philip. It is well that he did not bear malice, for you
would have got it hot, from the governor, had he reported what you said
to him."