"Captain Sturgis, I am sorry. We have shared many fights, and yesterday you were a gentleman of the King’s." There was silence in the market-place; and presently Sturgis saluted Rupert with extreme precision. "To-morrow, by your leave, I shall report myself. I shall spend a sleepless night." Rupert laughed pleasantly. "There’s no need to waste a night’s sleep, Sturgis. It was a madness, and it has left you, that is all." Then all again was uproar as men pressed up and down the street, some with prisoners, others hurrying to slake their thirst at a convenient tavern. "Where’s Rigby?" asked Lord Derby suddenly "I have a long account to settle with him." A jolly yeoman caught the question as he went by. "Gone away, like the fox on a hunting morn. I had a thrust at him myself just now, but missed him; and he leaped the ramparts where we broke it at the coming-in." "So!" growled Derby. "The fox will give us sport another day." "My lord," said the Prince, his voice grave and full of courtesy, "I give you twenty-seven standards, captured from Rigby’s forces. I give you a hundred of my men as a guard of honour. Eat and drink, and then get forward to Lathom, where your wife awaits you. Let the red fox skulk until a more convenient date." "And you?" "I stay on here for a while. It seems to be my business these days to batter walls down, and to stay on afterwards to build them up again. This town is worth defending for the King. Tell Lady Derby that my march to the relief of York will go by way of Lathom, if I may claim her hospitality." Kit Metcalf found himself among the hundred chosen to accompany Lord Derby; and he was glad, for in Oxford—with its deep, unconquerable love of attaching mystic glamour to a person or a cause—the Lady of Lathom had grown to be a toast drunk silently, as if she were above and beyond the noise of praise. That evening, as the sundown reddened over Lathom House—the sultry, rain-packed heat aglow on broken battlements—they came through the camp deserted lately by Colonel Rigby. A sentry challenged them; and Lord Derby laughed as any boy might do. "A Stanley for the King! Have I been away so long, Thornthwaite, that you do not know your lord?" The master, as usual, had the keener vision. In the clear light he had recognised the sentry as one old in service to his household. They passed through; and in the courtyard Lady Derby was standing near the captured mortar, talking of ways and means with one of her captains. To Kit, looking on, it was like fairyland come true. Lady Derby heard her husband’s step, glanced up, and ran to meet him. "My lord—my dear, dear lord, have you come back?" "Ay, like a bridegroom, wife."