Once I saw a light ahead by the
roadside, but out it went as the rattle of Sultan's hoofs told of my
coming. It was no wonder, for these poor folk were living between two
armies and wanted neither, friend nor foe. For them it was only a choice
between the upper and the nether millstone. At last I came to a wayside
ale-house where lights were showing. I rode up, dismounted, ran the reins
over the catch of the shutter, and went in.
In the low, untidy room I found a man and a woman, bent over a miserable
fire, with their backs to a table whereon were set out mug and platter and
other things useful for a meal. They rose to greet me, and their faces
told me that they were expecting some one and supposed that I was he. When
they saw their mistake, the woman stepped smartly in front of the man and
said, "Lord, sir, how you frighted us! What can I get for your worship?"
"A mug of good mulled ale," said I. "Give me good mulled ale and a little
information, and you shall have a crown for your pains."
I spoke pleasantly, having no need, as a mere passer-by, to do otherwise,
but if I had been obliged to have dealings with them, I should have begun
by distrusting them outright.
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