The iron-shod hoofs of the big gray courser rang sharply on the
frozen ground, as, beneath the creaking boughs of the long-armed
oaks, Launcelot Crue, the Lord Protector's fleetest courser-man,
galloped across the Hertford fells or hills, and reined up his
horse within the great gates of Hatfield manor-house.
"From the Lord Protector," he said; and Master Avery Mitchell,
the feodary,[1] who had been closely watching for this same
courser-man for several anxious hours, took from his hands a
scroll, on which was inscribed:
[1] An old English term for the guardian of "certain wards of the
state," --young persons under guardianship of the government.
"To Avery Mitchell, feodary of the Wards in Herts, at Halfield
House. From the Lord Protector, THESE:"
And next, the courser-man, in secrecy, unscrewed one of the
bullion buttons on his buff jerkin, and taking from it a scrap of
paper, handed this also to the watchful feodary. Then, his
mission ended, he repaired to the buttery to satisfy his lusty
English appetite with a big dish of pasty, followed by ale and
"wardens" (as certain hard pears, used chiefly for cooking, were
called in those days), while the cautious Avery Mitchell,
unrolling the scrap of paper, read:
"In secrecy, THESE: Under guise of mummers place a half-score
good men and true in your Yule-tide maskyng.
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