’Sure I am, Tom, thou didst never go to steal a mare of thine own notion:  who went with thee?’ said the marquis.

‘Mr. Scudamore, my lord,’ answered Tom.

‘Ha, Rowland!  Art thou there?’ cried his lordship.

’I gave him fair warning two years ago, my lord, and the king wants horses,’ said Scudamore cunningly.

’Rowland, I like not such warfare.  Yet can the roundheads say nought against it, who would filch kingdom from king and church from bishops,’ said the marquis, turning again to Heywood.

‘As they from the pope, my lord,’ rejoined Richard.

‘True,’ answered the marquis; ’but the bishops are the fairer thieves, and may one day be brought to reason and restitution.’

‘As I trust your lordship will in respect of my mare.’

’Nay, that can hardly be.  She shall to Gloucester to the king.  I would not have sent to Redware to fetch her, but finding thee and her in my house at midnight, it would be plain treason to set such enemies at liberty.  What! hast thou fought against his majesty?  Thou art scored like an old buckler!’

Richard had started on his adventure very thinly clad, for he had expected to find all possible freedom of muscle necessary, and indeed could not in his buff coat have entered the castle.  In the scuffle at the gate, his garment had been torn open, and the eye of the marquis had fallen on the scar of a great wound on his chest, barely healed.

‘What age art thou?’ he went on, finding Richard made no answer.

‘One and twenty, my lord—­almost.’

‘And what wilt thou be by the time thou art one and thirty, an’ I’ll let thee go,’ said the marquis thoughtfully.

‘Dust and ashes, my lord, most likely.  Faith, I care not.’

As he spoke he glanced at Dorothy, but she was looking on the ground.

‘Nay, nay!’ said the marquis feelingly.  ’These are, but wild and hurling words for a fine young fellow like thee.  Long ere thou be a man, the king will have his own again, and all will be well.  Come, promise me thou wilt never more bear arms against his majesty, and I will set thee and thy mare at liberty the moment thou shalt have eaten thy breakfast.’

‘Not to save ten lives, my lord, would I give such a promise.’

‘Roundhead hypocrite!’ cried the marquis, frowning to hide the gleam of satisfaction he felt breaking from his eyes.  ’What will thy father say when he hears thou liest deep in Raglan dungeon?’

’He will thank heaven that I lie there a free man instead of walking abroad a slave,’ answered Richard.

‘’Fore heaven!’ said the marquis, and was silent for a moment.  ‘Owest thou then thy king nothing, boy?’ he resumed.

‘I owe the truth everything,’ answered Richard.

‘The truth!’ echoed the marquis.

‘Now speaks my lord Worcester like my lord Pilate,’ said Richard.

‘Hold thy peace, boy,’ returned the marquis sternly.  ’Thy godly parents have ill taught thee thy manners.  How knowest thou what was in my thought when I did but repeat after thee the sacred word thou didst misuse?’