“Well, well, that’s a foolish practice. Moreover, Parliament hath ordered the crosses to be broken down,” said Massey. “I will send over some of the soldiers to-morrow morning.” The gloomy face of the fanatic brightened, and without actual thanks, but with the air of one who has gained his heart’s desire, he touched his hat and withdrew. Massey turned to Gabriel Harford. “I want a word with you in private,” he said. “Come to my room while supper is making ready.” Gabriel, wondering what was to happen, followed the Colonel to a room overlooking the High Street, and, at Massey’s invitation, took a place in the deep window-seat. “I think you know Cromwell, do you not?” said the Governor of Gloucester. “Yes, sir, I was serving under Waller when he acted with him last autumn in the Newbury campaign, and again last month in the Western campaign,” said Gabriel. “There is a very important and secret matter that I must make known to him,” said Massey. “I can’t entrust the despatch to an ordinary man, but if you will undertake to carry it to him you will be doing him a greater service than I can explain to you. Would you be willing to resign your temporary post in my force and undertake this, even though I can give you no explanation of the signal importance of the work?” “Yes, sir, I will gladly undertake it,” said Gabriel. “Am I to ride at once?” “Nay, not yet,” said Massey, smiling at his ardour. “For I will at the same time send a despatch to the Commander-in-Chief, who, I understand, is still at Windsor organising the New Model with Cromwell’s aid. I can’t complete that till I have learnt what Prince Rupert is about, and if possible turned him back. But I wanted to know if you were willing to turn despatch-bearer for the nonce.” “There is nothing I should like better than to do a service for Cromwell,” said Gabriel, his eyes kindling. “For in truth he seems to me the greatest man I ever met.” “Humph!” said Massey. “There’s little doubt that he is an able leader, but he’s too religious by half. The man’s a mystic, a seventeenth-century Enoch, with the soldierly zeal of a David to boot. By the bye, you may as well take over a detachment of the men from Waller’s army to Bosbury to-morrow. I’m as likely as not to forget that fellow’s request, and I think you have done that sort of business before, eh?” “Yes, sir, we hewed down Abingdon Cross,” said Gabriel. And when the next day he found that the rest of the forces were to witness the hanging of an unhappy scout of Prince Rupert’s, who had shot a sentry in the early morning, he was glad to have had the Bosbury work entrusted to him. “I would rather hew down fifty crosses than stand by and see a poor wretch hanged,” he reflected, as they marched along the rough country lanes. “A fair fight is one thing--every man takes his chance, but hanging is a hateful business.”