and much stared at by the inhabitants of every village he passed
through. Apparently, however, there was something about the
centaur-compound which prevented their rudeness from going farther.
Beelzebub bore him well, and, though not a comfortable horse to
ride, threw the road behind him at a wonderful rate, as often and as
long as Richard was able to bear it. But he found himself stronger
after every rest, and by the time he began to draw nigh to
Gloucester, he was nearly as well as ever, and in excellent spirits;
one painful thought only haunting him--the fear that he might,
mounted on Beelzebub, have to encounter some one on his beloved
mare. He was consoled, however, to think that the brute was less
dangerous to one before than one behind him, heels being worse than
teeth.

He soon became aware that something decisive had taken place: either
Gloucester had fallen, or Essex had raised the siege, for army there
was none, though the signs of a lately upbroken encampment were
visible on all sides. Presently, inquiring at the gate, he learned
that, on the near approach of Essex, the besieging army had retired,
and that, after a few days' rest, the general had turned again in
the direction of London. Richard, therefore, having fed Beelzebub
and eaten his own dinner, which in his present condition was more
necessary than usual to his being of service, mounted his hideous
charger once more, and pushed on to get up with the army.

Essex had not taken the direct road to London, but kept to the
southward. That same day he followed him as far as Swindon, and
found he was coming up with him rapidly. Having rested a short
night, he reached Hungerford the next morning, which he found in
great commotion because of the intelligence that at Newbury, some