"The Prince commands you, Sir John," said Kit, with great precision. Formality was ended on the instant; for Mallory clapped him on the shoulder and laughed like a boy let loose for play. "By the Lord Harry, I’m glad to get out of doors—and for Rupert, of all men." In the great sweep of roadway that mounted to the Castle gate—the grey, comely church beside it—Prince Rupert met Mallory with hand outstretched. "Well done, friend! If it had not been a day of truce, I had hoped to come indoors and crack a bottle with you. As matters stand, we hope to slake our thirst at a more convenient time." "There’s no hindrance, your Highness. Lambert, who besieges us, is doubtless entertaining friends at the Quaker meeting-house in this good town. Why should you not accept the warmer sort of hospitality we Cavaliers affect?" "Oh, a whim. I can tell you in the open here—No Man’s Ground—what I came to tell you. It would not be fair to hide my news behind closed gates." Mallory glanced sharply at him. Rupert’s fury in attack, his relentless gallop through one battle after another—-the man’s whole record—had not prepared him for this waywardness of scruple. The next moment Rupert’s face was keen and hard. "We ride for York, Sir John," he said, "and I give you the same errand I shall give Knaresborough’s garrison later on. Keep Lambert busy. Sortie till these Roundheads have no rest, day or night. Turn siege into attack. The Lady of Lathom has taught us what a slender garrison may do." "Does she hold out still?" asked the other eagerly. "We have so little news these days." "She has captured twenty-seven standards, friend, and is rebuilding her walls in preparation for the next siege." "God be thanked!" said Sir John, lifting his hat. "There are so few great ladies in our midst." "And so few great gentlemen, Mallory. Nay, friend, do not redden because I praise you to your face. We know Skipton’s story." Lambert was not at the Quakers’ meeting-house, as it chanced. He was on Cock Hill, passing the time of inaction away by looking down on the Castle that had flouted him so often. His thrifty mind was busy with new methods of attack, when he saw Rupert with his advance-guard come up the High Street. The light—a strong sun beating down through heavy rain-clouds—-showed a clear picture of the horsemen. By the carriage of their heads, by the way they sat their horses, Lambert knew them for Cavaliers. As he was puzzling out the matter—loth to doubt Sir John Mallory’s good faith—a man of the town came running up. "The truce is broken, Captain Lambert. Here’s a rogue with love-locks—they say he’s Prince Rupert—come with a press of horsemen. He’s talking with Sir John Mallory fair in front of the Castle gateway."