The seven wrote in silence. I must tell you that when they had ended,
Hastings gathered the letters into a heap, and without glancing at the
superscriptures, handed all these letters to the attendant lackey.
"For the courier," he said.
The fellow left the apartment. Presently you heard a departing clatter
of hoofs, and Hastings rose. He was a gaunt, terrible old man,
gray-bearded, and having high eyebrows that twitched and jerked.
"We have saved our precious skins," said he. "Hey, you fidgeters, you
ferments of sour offal! I commend your common-sense, messieurs, and I
request you to withdraw. Even a damned rogue such as I has need of a
cleaner atmosphere in order to breathe comfortably." The seven went
away without further speech.
They narrate that next day the troops marched for Durham, where the
Queen took up her quarters. The Bruce had pillaged and burned his way
to a place called Beaurepair, within three miles of the city. He sent
word to the Queen that if her men were willing to come forth from the
town he would abide and give them battle.
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