k.

"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, and
will have all things peaceably ordained. And as for Sir Daniel, y' are
very brave behind his back. But I will be no tale-bearer; and let that
suffice."

"I say no harm of you, Master Richard," returned the peasant. "Y' are a
lad; but when ye come to a man's inches, ye will find ye have an empty
pocket. I say no more: the saints help Sir Daniel's neighbours, and the
Blessed Maid protect his wards!"

"Clipsby," said Richard, "you speak what I cannot hear with honour. Sir
Daniel is my good master, and my guardian."

"Come, now, will ye read me a riddle?" returned Clipsby. "On whose side
is Sir Daniel?"

"I know not," said Dick, colouring a little; for his guardian had changed
sides continually in the troubles of that period, and every change had
brought him some increase of fortune.

"Ay," returned Clipsby, "you, nor no man. For, indeed, he is one that
goes to bed Lancaster and gets up York."

Just then the bridge rang under horse-shoe iron, and the party turned and
saw Bennet Hatch come galloping--a brown-faced, grizzled fellow, heavy of
hand and grim of mien, armed with sword and spear, a steel salet on his
head, a leather jack upon his body. He was a great man in these parts;
Sir Daniel's right hand in peace and war, and at that time, by his
master's interest, bailiff of the hundred.

"Clipsby," he shouted, "off to the Moat House, and send all other
laggards the same gate. Bowyer will give you jack and salet. We must
ride before curfew. Look to it: he that is last at the lych-gate Sir
Daniel shall reward. Look to it right well! I know you for a man of
naught. Nance," he added, to one of the women, "is old Appleyard up
town?"

"I'll warrant you," replied the woman. "In his field, for sure."

So the group dispersed, and while Cli