human
Once into York, my lad, he said, breaking a long silence,
gpt
We are not into York as yet. What plan have you, Michael?
human
My usual plan—to trust to luck. She’s a bonnie mare to ride, I tell you.
gpt
But the papers we took from the three Roundheads in the tavern—we had best know what they pledge us to.
human
The Prince was right, after all. He said that you would steady me. It is odd, Kit, but it never entered my daft head to look at the papers; it was enough that they were our passport.
gpt
They say that Rupert is marching fast for the relief of York—that will be no news to them by this time—that the Prince has inflicted disastrous reverses on their cause, at Bolton and by relieving Lathom House, and that, at any cost of life, York must be reduced before his coming. Oh, my lad, how all this plays into Rupert’s hands!