Both Sides the Border: A Tale of Hotspur and Glendower. Henty George Alfred
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."
Chapter 6: At Dunbar
The journey passed without any incident of importance, but Oswald had reason to congratulate himself on having taken the monk with him. On one occasion, as they were passing over a wild heath, a party of eight or ten men, on rough ponies, rode up. They were armed with spears and swords. They reined up with exclamations of disappointment as Roger, who had rolled up his robe round his waist, for convenience of walking, let it fall round him.
"You have played us a scurvy trick, monk," the leader said, angrily. "Who was to guess it was a monk, who was thus striding along?"
"You would find it difficult to walk, yourself, with this robe dangling about your heels," Roger said.
"Whither are you bound, and whence are you going?"
"We are travelling to Dunbar, being sent to the convent of Saint Magnus there, and come from Roxburgh."
"'Tis a shame that so stalwart a fellow as you are should be leading a drone's life, in a convent; when every true Scotsman is sharpening his spear, in readiness for what may come when the truce with England expires."
"I am glad to hear that you are so well employed," Roger replied; "but methinks that, in days like these, it is sometimes useful to have a few men of thews and sinews, even in a religious house; for there are those who sometimes fail in the respect they owe to the Church."
"That is true enough," the men laughed. "Well, go thy way. There is naught to be gained from a travelling monk."
"Naught, good friend, save occasionally hard blows, when the monk happens to be of my strength and stature, and carries a staff like this."
"'Tis a goodly weapon, in sooth, and you look as if you knew how to wield it."
"Even a monk may know that, seeing that a staff is not a carnal weapon."
And rolling up his sleeves, Roger took the staff in the middle with both hands, in the manner of a quarterstaff, and made it play round his head; with a speed, and vigour, that showed that he was a complete master of the exercise.
"Enough, enough!" the man said, while exclamations of admiration broke from the others. "Truly from such a champion, strong enough to wield a weapon that resembles a weaver's beam, rather than a quarterstaff, there would be more hard knocks than silver to be gained; but it is all the more pity that such skill and strength should be thrown away, in a convent. Perhaps it is as well that you are wearing a monk's gown, for methinks that, eight to one as we are, some of us might have got broken heads, before we gained the few pence in your pocket.
"Come on, men. Better luck next time. It is clear that this man is not the one we are charged to capture."
And, with his followers, he rode off across the moor.
"I do not think that they are what they seem," Oswald said, as they resumed their journey. "The man's speech was not that of a border raider, and his followers would hardly have sat their horses so silently, and obeyed his orders so promptly, had they been merely thieving caterans; besides, you marked that he said you were not the man they were watching for."
"Whom think you that they are, then, Master Oswald?"
"I think it possible that they may be a party of Douglas's followers, led by a knight. It may be that Douglas has received some hint of March's being in communication with England; and that he has sent a party to seize, and search, any traveller who looked like a messenger from the south. Of course, this may be only fancy. Still, I am right glad that you were wearing your monkish robe; for, had I been alone, I might have been cross-questioned so shrewdly as to my purpose in travelling, that I might have been held on suspicion, and means employed to get the truth out of me."
At the small town where they stopped, next night, they learned that many complaints had been made, by travellers from the south, of how they had been stopped by a party of armed men on the border, closely questioned, and searched, and in some cases robbed. This had been going on for some weeks, and the sheriff of the county had twice collected an armed force, and ridden in search of the robbers, but altogether without success. It was believed that they were strangers to the district, and the description given of them had not agreed with those of any noted bad characters, in the neighbourhood.
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