This was Queen Philippa, and talking to
her stood the tall King, clad in a velvet robe lined with fur. Behind,
seated at a little table on which lay parchments, was a man in a
priest's robe, writing. There was no one else in the room.
Hugh and Dick advanced to the foot of the dais, and stood there bowing.
"Who are these?" asked the King of the Prince. "Oh, I remember, the man
who overthrew Sir Ambrose and said he had a message!"
"Ay, Sire," answered the Prince; "and this dust-coloured fellow is his
servant, who will not part with his bow, which he calls his wife and
says he sleeps with."
"I would all Englishmen did the same," broke in the King. "Say, man, can
you shoot straight?"
"I know not, Sire," replied Grey Dick, "but perhaps straighter than
most, for God, Who withheld all else from me, gave me this gift. At
least, if I be not made drunk overnight, I'll match myself against any
man at this Court, noble or simple, and stake twenty angels on it."
"Twenty angels! Have you so much, fellow?"
"Nay, Sire, nor more than one; but as I know I shall win, what does that
matter?"
"Son," said the King, "see that this man is kept sober to-night, and
to-morrow we will have a shooting match. But, sirrah, if you prove
yourself to be a boaster you shall be whipped round the walls, for I
love not tall words and small deeds. And now, young Master de Cressi,
what is this message of yours?"
Hugh thrust his hand into his bosom, and produced a sealed packet which
was addressed to "His Grace King Edward of England, sent from Andrew
Arnold, priest, by the hand of Hugh de Cressi.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91