The Coming of the King. Hocking Joseph
so that I might have set my doubts at rest, but as I have said, every door was closed and bolted, while every window was so barricaded that no man might enter except after great preparations.
I therefore presently turned back disappointed and weary; the woman, the pathway of whose life I had so strangely crossed, had willed to go away without telling me whither she had gone, or perchance she had been compelled to do the will of the man with whom I had seen her in the room opposite the fir tree.
There seemed no reason why I should trouble about this, yet I did. A great weight rested upon my heart and, even when I had left the Pycroft woods and was out on the main road again and saw the clear blue sky above me, I was oppressed by what had taken place and I accused myself of being unfaithful to the promise I had made.
What o'clock it was when I reached Folkestone town I know not, but it was yet early, for but few people were stirring, neither did the inmates of the tavern seem to have aroused themselves from the carousal of the previous night. I found the main door opened, however, so I entered as carelessly as I was able, in the hope that if any one appeared I might give the impression that I had gone out for an early morning walk. But no man molested me as I found my way to the chamber which had been allotted to me, neither could I hear a sound coming from the adjoining room. All was perfectly still.
I went into the corridor and listened intently, but no man stirred. If the man, the thought of whom aroused angry feelings in my heart, slept near me, he must have slept as peacefully as a child.
After a time I heard the sound of bustle and movement in the rooms beneath me, and then, although the thought of food had never entered my mind during the night, I felt a great hunger. I therefore made my way down stairs, where great steaks of ham fresh from the frying pan were speedily set before me.
"A fine morning," I said to the maid who brought them.
"Ay, it feels like summer," she replied.
"Are there many people here who have been sleeping at the inn to-night."
"I dunnow," and with that she left the room.
I thought the maid desired not to answer my question, but this, while it aroused suspicions in my mind did not keep me from eating a hearty breakfast. Moreover, I felt neither tired nor sleepy. My journey of ten miles, my long watching and waiting, seemed to have affected me not one whit, and when I had finished breakfast I had no more weariness than when I had left my home two days before. In spite of my anxiety, too, I felt strangely light of heart, and as the sunlight streamed into the room I found myself humming a song.
"Good morning to you, young master, and a good appetite."
It was the landlord who spoke, the very man I wanted to see.
"The same to you Master Landlord," I replied.
"Ay, but I spoiled my appetite an hour ago, young master. An innkeeper must needs be an early riser."
"Ay, I suppose so," I made answer, blessing my stars that the man had given me the very opening which I desired. "Doubtless some of your guests have taken leave of you this morning."
"As to that, no, young master."
"Ah, no one has left you to-day?"
"No, not to-day."
"That is lucky for me," I said, "for I had fears lest one of your guests whom I wanted to see had left before I had a chance of speaking to him."
"And which might that be, if I am not making too bold in asking?" he said, and I thought his eyes searched my face curiously.
"The Cavalier who rode up last night with a lady."
"Ah, but which?"
"I saw but one," I made answer. "He came up even while the groom was unsaddling my own horse. A tall man, with black hair just turning grey. He wore a grey feather in his hat, and his sword was jewel hilted."
"That description might apply to many a traveller who puts up here," he replied. "His name, young master, his name?"
"As to his name," I replied, for here the man had found a weak place in my armour, "well there may be reasons for not mentioning it."
"I have naught to do with nameless wanderers, young master, and thank God the country will have less than ever to do with them since England's true king is coming back. Each traveller who comes to this inn gives his name as a gentleman should. It is well known for five miles around, ay, fifty for that matter, among those who travel, that The Barley Sheaf bears a name second to none. Its sack is of the best, its company the best, while neither footpad nor traitor is ever welcomed within its walls."
The man spoke as I thought with unnecessary warmth. There seemed no reason why he should be so anxious to defend the character of the house before a youth like myself, who made no charge against it.
"Methinks he does protest too much," I said to myself, calling to mind the words of Master Will Shakespeare, whose writings had been little read during Cromwell's time, but whose plays I had often read with much delight. Still I remembered my father's advice, and determined to arouse no suspicion in his mind.
"I heard of that before I came hither," I replied. "As to the sack, and the company, I made acquaintance with both last night, and that with rare pleasure. Nevertheless a man doth not blazon his name on the walls of every inn he enters. Even King Charles II, who is expected to land at Dover before many days are over, had often to enter places like this under an assumed name, as every one knows right well. And, even although times will be changed at his return, it may be that many a man, while he may give his name to such as yourself, will not care to shout it aloud to the tapster or the ostler."
"Ay there is reason in that," replied the innkeeper, "and I perceive that young as you are you are a gentleman of rare wit."
"As to that, mine host," I made answer, "I may not boast, still I have wit enough to know that it may not always be best to speak names aloud in an inn, although the king will be in England soon."
"God bless King Charles II, and down with all psalm-singing traitors," he cried fervently.
"Amen to that," I cried; "down with all traitors whether they sing psalms or no. But to come to my question, since the worshipful gentleman whom I have described hath not had the misfortune to be obliged to leave this hospitable house, I trust you will take my name to him, with the request that I may enjoy a few minutes of his company."
"You mean the gentleman who rode a grey horse with a grey feather in his hat, and carried a jewelled hilted sword?"
"Ay, I mean him. He was accompanied by a lady, who wore a long cloak, and whose face was wellnigh hidden by her headgear; I heard him ask you for private rooms as he entered."
"But did you not know?"
"Know what?"
"That he left last night at midnight."
"At midnight?"
"Ay, a messenger came bearing him important news, and although the lady had gone to bed he had to arouse her, ay, and the ostler too for that matter. Both their horses were saddled, and they rode away at one o' th' clock, but whither they have gone I know not."
At this I was silent, for I knew that the man had told a lie.
"But what would you?" continued the innkeeper. "We shall have bustling times now, and the innkeeper's trade will be brisk, so he must not grumble. Besides, he paid his count like a prince, and would not take the silver change which he could rightfully claim."
Now this brought me to a deadlock, as can be seen. I dared not ask direct questions, first because I did not wish to arouse suspicions, and next because I feared by so doing I should shew my state of utter ignorance concerning the man about whom I inquired. Still when one is twenty-three one does not lack confidence, and youth will dare to rush bareheaded where an older man would hesitate to enter with a steel head-cap.
"Ah, I would I had known," I replied. "I could perhaps have told him that his danger was not so great as he imagined."
At this he started like one surprised, while his eyes flashed a look of inquiry.
"Danger?" he said questioningly. "What danger, young