grey-eyed, in a jacket of deer's leather, with a black velvet

collar, a green hood upon his head, and a steel cross-bow at his

back. The express, it appeared, had brought great news. A battle

was impending. Sir Daniel had sent for every man that could draw a

bow or carry a bill to go post-haste to Kettley, under pain of his

severe displeasure; but for whom they were to fight, or of where

the battle was expected, Dick knew nothing. Sir Oliver would come

shortly himself, and Bennet Hatch was arming at that moment, for he

it was who should lead the party.

"It is the ruin of this kind land," a woman said. "If the barons

live at war, ploughfolk must eat roots."

"Nay," said Dick, "every man that follows shall have sixpence a

day, and archers twelve."

"If they live," returned the woman, "that may very well be; but how

if they die, my master?"

"They cannot better die than for their natural lord," said Dick.

"No natural lord of mine," said the man in the smock. "I followed

the Walsinghams; so we all did down Brierly way, till two years

ago, come Candlemas. And now I must side with Brackley! It was

the law that did it; call ye that natural? But now, what with Sir

Daniel and what with Sir Oliver--that knows more of law than

honesty--I have no natural lord but poor King Harry the Sixt, God

bless him!--the poor innocent that cannot tell his right hand from

his left."

"Ye speak with an ill tongue, friend," answered Dick, "to miscall

your good master and my lord the king in the same libel. But King

Harry--praised be the saints!--has come again into his right mind,

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