From the field of Edgehill the royal army marched to Banbury, which yielded to them unresistingly. To Hugh this was far pleasanter marching than the passage through Warwickshire, for not only did he now wear a sword and a red sash that marked him of the king’s men, but he had his own horse, Bayard, as he had named him for his bay color. The animal contented him very well, though Frank and The Jade distanced him whenever they raced a piece. “Bayard is no ambler; he was built for serious work in the field,” Hugh replied loftily to Frank’s jeers, and betook himself to Dick Strangwayes, whose mere presence was comforting. He trailed along at Dick’s side, ate with him, and shared his bed, and, in return, would gladly have cleaned Dick’s boots and groomed his horse, the horse that had once belonged to Captain Oldesworth. He knew better, however, than to offer such service, so he satisfied himself with taking their two horses to stable, and standing over the groom who cared for them to see the task was done without shirking. On the night they lay at Banbury he came in from such labor and in their chamber found Strangwayes unbuckling his cuirass, and singing, which was with him a sign of either very good or very bad fortune. “What’s to do, Dick?” Hugh asked, lighting a candle at the fireplace. “What do you say to a lieutenancy to the front of my name again, and over seasoned fighting men this time, not Jacks such as I misgoverned in the Scots war?” “Sir William has given you the lieutenancy under Turner?” “Ay, and on the heel of that comes better: Turner’s troop rides for service into Northamptonshire to-morrow.” “That’s well,” Hugh answered rather sorrowfully, as he put the candle on the table. “Luck go with you.” “Come along and bring it to us. Ay, you’re to go. I told my uncle we could use you as a volunteer. You see, the troop is short one officer since Griffith left.” “Yes?” Hugh urged, with curiosity. “I’m promising you nothing, remember,” Strangwayes continued soberly. “But there’s that vacant cornetcy, and you’re a lad of a steady courage,—I pray you, spare blushing,—and of a discreeter head than most of your years. Now, first, you’re to ride with us and do all you can to satisfy Captain Turner.” “Dick, I cannot satisfy him,” Hugh gasped, almost bewildered by the coolness and breadth of Strangwayes’ plan. “Captain Turner never does aught but mock me; I’m near as unhappy with him as with my father.” He could have bit his tongue for the ease with which it let slip such a piece of the truth, but Strangwayes only gave him one involuntary look, then changed the subject hastily to the matter of the raid into Northamptonshire.