The Pigeon Pie | Page 8

and had
brought with him, as an attendant, Edmund Woodley, the eldest son. As
soon as he was known to have entered England, some of the loyal

gentlemen of the neighbourhood of Forest Lea went to join the King,
and among their followers went Farmer Ewins, who had fought bravely
in the former war under Edmund Mowbray, several other of the men of
the village, and lastly, Diggory Stokes, Lady Woodley's serving man,
who had lately shown symptoms of discontent with his place, and
fancied that as a soldier he might fare better, make his fortune, and
come home prosperously to marry his sweetheart, Deborah.

CHAPTER II
.

Walter ran down to the village at full speed. He first bent his steps
towards the "Half-Moon," the little public-house, where news was sure
to be met with. As he came towards it, however, he heard the loud
sound of a man's voice going steadily on as if with some discourse.
"Some preachment," said he to himself: "they've got a thorough-going
Roundhead, I can hear his twang through his nose! Shall I go in or
not?"
While he was asking himself this question, an old peasant in a round
frock came towards him.
"Hollo, Will!" shouted Walter, "what prick-eared rogue have you got
there?"
"Hush, hush, Master Walter!" said the old man, taking off his hat very
respectfully. "Best take care what you say, there be plenty of red-coats
about. There's one of them now preaching away in marvellous pied
words. It is downright shocking to hear the Bible hollaed out after that
sort, so I came away. Don't you go nigh him, sir, 'specially with your
hat set on in that--"
"Never mind my hat," said Walter, impatiently, "it is no business of
yours, and I'll wear it as I please in spite of old Noll and all his crew."
For his forefathers' sake, and for the love of his mother and sister, the
good village people bore with Walter's haughtiness and discourtesy far
more than was good for him, and the old man did not show how much
he was hurt by his rough reception of his good advice. Walter was not
reminded that he ought to rise up before the hoary head, and reverence
the old man, and went on hastily, "But tell me, Will, what do you hear

of the battle?"
"The battle, sir! why, they say it is lost. That's what the fellow there is
preaching about."
"And where was it? Did you hear? Don't you know?"
"Don't be so hasty, don't ye, sir!" said the old slow-spoken man,
growing confused. "Where was it? At some town--some town, they said,
but I don't know rightly the name of it."
"And the King? Who was it? Not Cromwell? Had Lord Derby joined?"
cried Walter, hurrying on his questions so as to puzzle and confuse the
old man more and more, till at last he grew angry at getting no
explanation, and vowed it was no use to talk to such an old fool. At that
moment a sound as of feet and horses came along the road. "'Tis the
soldiers!" said Walter.
"Ay, sir, best get out of sight."
Walter thought so too, and, springing over a hedge, ran off into a
neighbouring wood, resolving to take a turn, and come back by the
longer way to the house, so as to avoid the road. He walked across the
wood, looking up at the ripening nuts, and now and then springing up
to reach one, telling himself all the time that it was untrue, and that the
King could not, and should not be defeated. The wood grew less thick
after a time, and ended in low brushwood, upon an open common. Just
as Walter was coming to this place, he saw an unusual sight: a man and
a horse crossing the down. Slowly and wearily they came, the horse
drooping its head and stumbling in its pace, as though worn out with
fatigue, but he saw that it was a war-horse, and the saddle and other
equipments were such as he well remembered in the royal army long
ago. The rider wore buff coat, cuirass, gauntlets guarded with steel,
sword, and pistols, and Walter's first impulse was to avoid him; but on
giving a second glance, he changed his mind, for though there was
neither scarf, plume, nor any badge of party, the long locks, the set of
the hat, and the general air of the soldier were not those of a rebel. He
must be a cavalier, but, alas! far unlike the triumphant cavaliers whom
Walter had hoped to receive, for he was covered with dust and blood,
as if he had fought and ridden hard. Walter sprung forward to meet him,
and saw that he