What, you have not heard? He needs, as speedily as may be, the arms
of every honest man. How many can you get together?"
"But what is it? How is it? Your Duke ruled the roast last time I
heard of him."
"You know as little as my horse here in the north!" cried Rob.
"This I did hear last time there was a boat come in, that the Queen,
that mother of mischief, had tried to lay hands on our Lord of
Salisbury, and that he and your Duke of York had soundly beaten her
and the men of Cheshire."
"Yea, at Blore Heath; and I thought to win my spurs on the Copeland
banner, but even as I was making my way to it and the recreant that
bore it, I was stricken across my steel cap and dazed."
"I'll warrant it," muttered his father.
"When I could look up again all was changed, the banner nowhere in
sight, but I kept my saddle, and cut down half a dozen rascaille
after that."
"Ha!" half incredulously, for it was a mere boy who boasted. "That's
my brave lad! And what then? More hopes of the spurs, eh?"
"Then what does the Queen do, but seeing that no one would willingly
stir a lance against an old witless saint like King Harry, she gets a
host together, dragging the poor man hither and thither with her, at
Ludlow. Nay, we even heard the King was dead, and a mass was said
for the repose of his soul, but with the morning what should we see
on the other side of the river Teme but the royal standard, and who
should be under it but King Harry himself with his meek face and fair
locks, twirling his fingers after his wont.
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