The blacksmith, a shrewd-looking fellow, lifted up the horse’s feet deliberately, and then, with rather a singular look, remarked,
“Why, master, how comes this? Your horse has but three shoes left, and all three were put on in different counties; and one in Worcestershire.”
“You are right, friend,” replied Charles, laughing. “This horse was ridden at the fight at Worcester. I bought him from a disbanded Cavalier.”
“Well, he shall have an honest Roundhead shoe this time, I can promise you, master,” cried the blacksmith, plying his bellows, and soon afterwards placing a glowing shoe on the anvil. “I should like to belabour all Royalists in this fashion,” he added, as he struck the heated iron.
“What! would you serve Charles Stuart himself so?” demanded Charles.
“Ay, marry, him worse than any other,” replied the blacksmith, with a blow that made the anvil ring. “I heard say at Arundel that the Young Man has been taken, and I hope it be true.”
“Well, one thing is quite certain, thou wouldst never lend him a hand to escape,” observed Charles.
“No, nor a shoe, nor a nail,” replied the smith. “I’d lame his horse, if he brought him to me.”
“Well, don’t lame mine, friend, I prithee,” said Charles. “Take him to the stable, and see him well fed when thou hast done. I must in to breakfast.”
The blacksmith promising compliance, Charles entered the little inn, where he found his companions seated at a table, with a goodly loaf of bread, a half-consumed cheese, and a lump of butter before them, together with two capacious jugs filled with ale, and drinking-horns. They did not rise, of course, on his Majesty’s appearance, but he took the place reserved for him between Clavering and Lord Wilmot. Charles was scarcely seated when a large dish of fried ham and eggs was placed upon the table by a comely-looking damsel. A second supply was ordered to be prepared, and the king and his hungry followers did ample justice to the repast.
Having pretty nearly cleared the board and quite emptied both jugs of their contents, the party arose, and called for the reckoning, which was moderate enough, as may be supposed. Colonel Gunter defrayed it, while the others went forth to look after their steeds. The blacksmith had charge of the king’s horse, and in return for the half-crown which Charles bestowed upon him, wished the young monarch a prosperous journey, adding,
“And that’s more than I would wish Charles Stuart. But talking of the Young Man, master, what manner of man is he?”
“A marvellous proper man,” replied the king; “about” a foot taller than myself, very broad across the shoulders, fair-haired—”
“Nay, that can’t be!” exclaimed the blacksmith, “for I have heard tell that he is as dark as a gipsy. I should say he was more like your honour.”
“How now, sirrah! hast thou the impudence to tell me to my face that I am like Charles Stuart?” cried the king, with affected wrath. “I have half a mind to chastise thee.”
“Nay, I meant no offence,” replied the smith. “The devil, they say, is not so black as he’s painted, and a man may be swart as a gipsy and yet handsome for all that. Handsome is that handsome does, and your honour having paid me handsomely, I wish you a prosperous journey. Good luck attend you wherever you go!” So saying, he retired into his smithy.
By this time all the party having mounted, they again set forth on their way.
V
THE PATRIARCH OF THE DOWNS
ANGMERING PARK, through a portion of which the royal party now rode, possessed many points of great beauty, and boasted much noble timber. In especial, there was a fine grove of oaks, old as the Druids, and tenanted at that time by a colony of herons; the birds, or their progeny, having since migrated to Parham. Charles cast a passing glance at the long-legged, long-necked birds congregated on the higher branches of the trees, and listened for a moment to their harsh cries. Quitting Angmering Park, and approaching Clapham Wood through a beautiful sylvan district, the party now obtained a fine view of Highdown Hill, on the summit of which, in later years, has been placed the Miller’s Tomb.