human
There’s a crying in the wind, he said, turning to Kit, who was riding at his bridle-hand.
gpt
I trust it’s sobbing for the end of all foul traitors to the King.
human
I’ve seen a moil o’ horsemen scummering out to York for three days past. But they asked me no questions, and so I asked them none. Reckoned they were riding to a hunt. Gentlefolk must fill up their time, one way or another.
gpt
But, man, snapped old Metcalf,
human
Nay. I’ve been tending sheep. Have they fallen out, like, King and Parliament? Well, let ’em fratch, say I. I’m a simple man myself, with ewes to tend.
gpt
Forward, Mecca lads! he said.
human
We’ve ewes to tend ourselves; but, bless you, this shepherd brings a wind from Yoredale to us.