Dear Sir,

We are marching toward Birmingham, there to rendezvous with the main part of the King's army. The intent -- as I understand the deep and mysterious Arts Military -- is to avoid the Parliament garrison at Castle Warwick, said to be a strong one (when the King's men paid it a visit in the Summer, the Commander met them on the Wall with a Bible in one hand, and his Shroud in the other, to display his Intent of Perishing before submitting to Tyranny and Popery) and attack Banbury, or perhaps bypass Banbury and march direct on London. Essex is near Worcester, according to scouts, spies, reports, and of course Guilliame of Normandy who though in Hell communicates through Boy. (That is a Joke.) The Dog and I have become great Friends, which means that Rupert, generally after supper and a pipe or two, is free with his ruminations on the King's Plans, and his criticisms thereof.