"At least," said he, "I shall have
no need of thee as long as I am here among honest men."
"What shall I do with my master's horse?" asked Martin. "He can't stand in
the street to be stolen by drunken French horseboys."
"Bring him in at the front door, and out at the back," said Perry. "Fine
times these, when a man dare not open his own yard-gate."
"You seem to be all besieged here," said Hereward. "How is this?"
"Besieged we are," said the man; and then, partly to turn the subject off,
"Will it please you to eat, noble sir?"
Hereward ate and drank: while his hosts eyed him, not without some
lingering suspicion, but still with admiration and some respect. His
splendid armor and weapons, as well as the golden locks which fell far
below his shoulders, and conveniently hid a face which he did not wish yet
to have recognized, showed him to be a man of the highest rank; while the
palm of his small hand, as hard and bony as any woodman's, proclaimed him
to be no novice of a fighting man. The strong Flemish accent which both he
and Martin Lightfoot had assumed prevented the honest Englishmen from
piercing his disguise. They watched him, while he in turn watched them,
struck by their uneasy looks and sullen silence.
"We are a dull company," said he after a while, courteously enough.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310