The carrier produced from a basket a large pork pie and a hunk of cheese. He cut a piece off the pie with a large knife and seemed about to offer it to Stephen when he was struck by a doubt. “Do black lads eat the same as us?” he asked as if he thought they might possibly eat grass, or moonbeams.

“Yes,” said Stephen.

The carrier gave Stephen the piece of pie and some cheese.

“Thank you. Does not your other passenger want something?”

“He might. When he wakes. I took him up at Ripon. He’d no money. I thowt as how he’d be someone to talk to. He were chatty enough at first but he went to sleep at Boroughbridge and he’s done nowt else since.”

“Very tiresome of him.”

“I don’t mind it. I have you to talk to now.”

“He must be very tired,” mused Stephen. “He has slept through the shot that finished my horse, the visit to the foolish farmer, the bed-stead and the canary – all the events of the day in fact. Where is he going?”

“Him? Nowhere. He wanders about from place to place. He is persecuted by soom famous man in London and cannot stay long anywhere – or t’oother chap’s servant might catch up wi’ him.”

“Indeed?”

“He is blue,” remarked the carrier.

“Blue?” said Stephen, mystified.

The carrier nodded.

“What? Blue with cold? Or has he been beaten?”

“Nay, lad. He is as blue as thou art black. Eh! I have a black lad and a blue fella in my cart! I niver heard o’ anyone that did that before. Now if to see a black lad is good luck – which it must be, like cats – then to see a black lad and a blue fella together in one place ought to mean summat. But what?”

“Perhaps it does mean something,” offered Stephen, “but not for you. Perhaps it means something for him. Or me.”

“Nay, that can’t be right,” objected the carrier. “It’s me it’s happening to.”

Stephen considered the unknown man’s odd colour. “Does he have a disease?” he asked.

“Could be,” said the carrier, unwilling to commit himself.

After they had eaten, the carrier began to nod and pretty soon he was fast asleep with the reins in his hands. The cart continued serenely along the road under the captainship of the horse – a beast of excellent sense and judgement.

It was a weary journey for Stephen. The sad exile of Lady Pole and the loss of Firenze depressed his spirits. He was glad to be relieved of the carrier’s conversation for a while.

Once he heard a sort of muttering, suggesting that the blue man was waking up. At first he could not tell what the blue man was saying and then he heard very clearly, “The nameless slave shall be king in a strange country.”

That made him shiver; it reminded him so forcibly of the gentleman’s promise to make him King of England.