was concerned about the fog though because of his unfamiliarity with the area, he had never been very far outside Stamford to the north. He left Stamford by way of the Ryhill Road. Outside the towne, the fog thickened still. He thought that it was so thick that he could almost taste it. A heavy fog such as this gently and slowly deposited moisture on him. Twice he was startled by the ghostly figures of travelers that seemed to suddenly appear out of the whiteness.
After walking for about three hours he sat down beneath a tree and had a few bites of bread. He would need to conserve his bread, because he didn't have much money with him. By this time, he felt the wet and cold though his clothing.
After walking another hour, Richard began to be concerned. He should have been in Bourne by then. With fog so thick as it was, he could not be sure that he was even still traveling in the right direction. He was cautious about engaging other travelers and so he hadn't asked about the directions to Bourne of the two travelers that he had encountered. He didn't see any other option but to keep walking. After another hour of walking he suddenly realized that there were buildings on the side of the road. Could it be possible that this was Bourne? A sense of relief washed over him despite his desperate condition. He saw the faint outline of a public house sign. When he was nearly beneath it he could read 'The Bull's Head.' He didn't want to spend any of his limited funds on food, but a warm bed for the night would be a welcomed relief.
There was a warm fire inside and Richard stood next to it to warm himself for several minutes. He saw that only two tables were occupied. The proprietor knew that Richard was not from around those parts and he was not going to have any vagrants in his public house.
'Do you 'ave muney for a room or food?' asked the proprietor. 'If you nay 'ave muney, you can keep moving.'
Richard asked the proprietor whether he was in Bourne.
'Bourne!?' the proprietor laughed. 'Nay, you are in Swinstead. Bourne is 9 miles east of 'ere.'
'Swinstead?' Richard was shocked. 'The fog was thick. I must 'ave missed me road.'
Those who were seated at the tables laughed at that thought of someone being so far off track.
''ow do I get to Bourne?' Richard asked. The proprietor gave him directions to Bourne and Richard left to the sound of laughter.
Leaving the warmth and safety of the public house was not made easier when Richard saw that it had started to rain. At least the fog had lifted a little thought Richard. Swinstead was a very small village, so it was easy for Richard to find the road toward Bishopshall Wood. The road outside Swinstead was muddy as Richard walked toward the Bishopshall Wood. Soon, it started raining harder and the road was getting difficult to negotiate. It seemed that the mud grabbed on to his shoes and hung tight with each step. It was as though the road itself did not want him to go to Bourne.
It was well after dark when he reached the Grimsthorpe castle. The rain had stopped, but his clothing was still wet through to the skin. Even though Bourne was only 3 miles further down the road, Richard was exhausted and decided to try and find a place to rest and to dry out a little. He found a public house in Grimsthorpe and went inside. Richard immediately felt the warmth of the fire from across the room and he was drawn to it. Standing in front of the fire, he warmed his hands. He could smell fresh bread and he also saw potatoes being served to other guests. He was so hungry, but would not be spending his meager savings on food tonight. He would dine again on the bread that he had carried from home.
'You luk like you 'ave been oot in the weather all dee,' said the proprietor.
'Aye, I 'ave comb from Stamford,' replied Richard.
'And where might you be 'eaded?' asked the proprietor.
'I am 'eaded to Bourne,' replied Richard somewhat quietly, hoping to not get the same reaction that he had received in Swinstead.
'You seem to 'ave missed Bourne, then.'
'Aye, I got off course due to the fog.'
'Aye, a heavy fog, that it was,' observed the proprietor. 'I assume that you will