When I knew that Kirke and all his men were safely on their way for Taunton, I lost no time in riding across country in a bee-line to Royston Chase, which I found shut up in charge of three old servants. From these I learned that Ned's gray had that morning been discovered cropping a breakfast from the grass about his own stable door, and, while assuring them of their young master's safety, beyond, perhaps, what I truly felt myself, I bade them keep quiet tongues both about the horse and his master, who lay for safety, I said, in these perilous times, at the city of Oxford. Nor did I in truth lie to these good people, who from my manner of speaking did well perceive this was but the tale they must tell, I knowing what it were best they should not. Of the chief among them I had the promise that on the expected arrival of the Lady Mary my father should at once be advertised of it. And thence home, a little lighter in spirit to know that his horse was safe, and found my father musing heavily in his great chair in the hall, where the night before he had so feasted our enemies. At first it was a hard matter to bring him to talk, but at last, under stress of coaxing and such tricks of blandishment as I have practised from a child to win him from this heaviness of spirit, he broke silence. "The times are hard when a Drayton must in his old age take to lying, little daughter Phil," he said. "And his daughter in the days of her youth," I answered merrily. "But in truth 't is little I trouble myself for the falsehood. Whose, sir, upon the Day of Judgment, will be the blame of those untruths that were told to save from a death both cruel and contrary to law so kind and Christian a gentleman as my Ned?" Sir Michael smiled and rallied me on that word of possession. "Ho, ho!" said he; "'my Ned,' indeed! He is by this in Holland, little lass, and already, it is like enough, hath seen much that may put an unbroke filly out of his mind." Then, growing grave, "'There is something rotten,'" he said, quoting from Mr. Shakespeare's tragedy of _Hamlet_ (for this play, and others of that writer, were his chief reading), "'There is something rotten in the state of Denmark,' when honest youths must needs kill soldiers of their sovereign, and old men and young maids must trump up a pack of lying tales to save a good lad from rope without jury. I would I had died when the late King did come again to his own." "And what, then, of poor Philippa?" I piteously asked.