It changed his thoughts a trifle to seek out his way to the stable and claim Bayard, whom he had been ready to give up for lost and was proportionately glad to recover. Once upon the horse’s back, he took himself unostentatiously through the streets to the lodgings of his fencing-master, de Sévérac, who received him warmly, when Hugh assured him he was fairly sure of pardon and sought only to have quiet harborage for the week. Those seven days he passed in the dingy sleeping-room behind the fencing-hall, where he studied the pictures in a great French folio, “L’Academie de l'Espee,” or entertained de Sévérac in his leisure moments with a full account of the duel with Bellasis. The fencing-master, who took a professional pride in his pupil’s success, entreated Hugh not to persist in saying the victory was due solely to Bellasis’ carelessness; ’twas just as easy to give credit to himself and those who taught him the use of the rapier. Thus the week dragged to an end, while Hugh counted the days impatiently, and heard with terror that troops were setting out for Bristol, for in the confusion the great men might well forget his business. At last the seventh day came, and, having put on a clean shirt and brushed his coat, he set out for Christ Church. As he went he tried to steel himself against possible disappointment by telling over the many cases of the ingratitude of kings; but at heart he knew he did not believe so ill of the Prince, and in the end his trust was justified. He had not been kept waiting many minutes in the great hall, when a trim officer came from above-stairs, and, asking him if he were not named Gwyeth, delivered to him a fair great piece of parchment all sealed up. “’Tis my pardon?” Hugh burst out. The other smiled, not unkindly. “The king of his clemency has been pleased, at his Highness’s entreaty, to grant a full pardon to those who had a hand in the death of Philip Bellasis,” he explained formally; then added, “Suffer me congratulate you, Master Gwyeth.” In a dazed fashion Hugh shook the other’s hand, then came forth from the hall into the open air. There he paused, and pushed his hat well back on his head so all could see his face, then, walking out into the South Street, tramped half across the city. For he need not skulk nor shrink now, he was a free man again; and how stoutly he meant to fight for Prince Rupert, since he could show his gratitude in no other way. Then it came over him that he were best post off at once to Tamworth and thank Sir William Pleydall, who had first begun the movement to relieve him, and thank Alan Gwyeth, who had been Sir William’s instrument. Hugh scowled and walked a little slower.