Puck of Pook's Hill: Ch. 2: Young Men at the Manor

Ch. 2: Young Men at the Manor

They were fishing, a few days later, in the bed of the
brook that for centuries had cut deep into the soft valley
soil. The trees closing overhead made long tunnels
through which the sunshine worked in blobs and
patches. Down in the tunnels were bars of sand and
gravel, old roots and trunks covered with moss or
painted red by the irony water; foxgloves growing lean
and pale towards the light; clumps of fern and thirsty shy
flowers who could not live away from moisture and
shade. In the pools you could see the wave thrown up by
the trouts as they charged hither and yon, and the pools
were joined to each other - except in flood-time, when all
was one brown rush - by sheets of thin broken water that
poured themselves chuckling round the darkness of the
next bend.

This was one of the children's most secret hunting-
grounds, and their particular friend, old Hobden the
hedger, had shown them how to use it. Except for the
click of a rod hitting a low willow, or a switch and tussle
among the young ash leaves as a line hung up for the
minute, nobody in the hot pasture could have guessed
what game was going on among the trouts below the banks.

'We've got half a dozen,' said Dan, after a warm, wet
hour. 'I vote we go up to Stone Bay and try Long Pool.'

Una nodded - most of her talk was by nods - and they
crept from the gloom of the tunnels towards the tiny weir
that turns the brook into the mill-stream. Here the banks
are low and bare, and the glare of the afternoon sun
on the Long Pool below the weir makes your eyes ache.

When they were in the open they nearly fell down
with astonishment. A huge grey horse, whose tail-hairs
crinkled the glassy water, was drinking in the pool, and
the ripples about his muzzle flashed like melted gold. On
his back sat an old, white-haired man dressed in a loose
glimmery gown of chain-mail. He was bare-headed, and
a nut-shaped iron helmet hung at his saddle-bow. His
reins were of red leather five or six inches deep, scalloped
at the edges, and his high padded saddle with its red
girths was held fore and aft by a red leather breastband
and crupper.

'Look!' said Una, as though Dan were not staring his
very eyes out. 'It's like the picture in your room - "Sir
Isumbras at the Ford".'

The rider turned towards them, and his thin, long face
was just as sweet and gentle as that of the knight who
carries the children in that picture.

'They should be here now, Sir Richard,' said Puck's
deep voice among the willow-herb.

'They are here,' the knight said, and he smiled at Dan
with the string of trouts in his hand. 'There seems no
great change in boys since mine fished this water.'

'If your horse has drunk, we shall be more at ease in the
Ring,' said Puck; and he nodded to the children as
though he had never magicked away their memories a
week before.

The great horse turned and hoisted himself into the
pasture with a kick and a scramble that tore the clods
down rattling.

'Your pardon!' said Sir Richard to Dan. 'When
these lands were mine, I never loved that mounted men
should cross the brook except by the paved ford. But
my Swallow here was thirsty, and I wished to meet you.'

'We're very glad you've come, sir,'said Dan.'It doesn't
matter in the least about the banks.'

He trotted across the pasture on the sword side of the
mighty horse, and it was a mighty iron-handled sword
that swung from Sir Richard's belt. Una walked behind
with Puck. She remembered everything now.

'I'm sorry about the Leaves,' he said, 'but it would
never have done if you had gone home and told, would it?'

'I s'pose not,' Una answered. 'But you said that all the
fair - People of the Hills had left England.'

'So they have; but I told you that you should come and
go and look and know, didn't I? The knight isn't a fairy.
He's Sir Richard Dalyngridge, a very old friend of mine.
He came over with William the Conqueror, and he wants
to see you particularly.'

'What for?' said Una.

'On account of your great wisdom and learning,' Puck
replied, without a twinkle.

'Us?' said Una. 'Why, I don't know my Nine Times -
not to say it dodging, and Dan makes the most awful mess
of fractions. He can't mean us!'

'Una!' Dan called back. 'Sir Richard says he is going to
tell what happened to Weland's sword. He's got it. Isn't it
splendid?'

'Nay - nay,' said Sir Richard, dismounting as they
reached the Ring, in the bend of the mill-stream bank. 'It
is you that must tell me, for I hear the youngest child in
our England today is as wise as our wisest clerk.' He
slipped the bit out of Swallow's mouth, dropped the
ruby-red reins over his head, and the wise horse moved
off to graze.

Sir Richard (they noticed he limped a little) unslung his
great sword.

'That's it,' Dan whispered to Una.

'This is the sword that Brother Hugh had from
Wayland-Smith,' Sir Richard said. 'Once he gave it me,
but I would not take it; but at the last it became mine after
such a fight as never christened man fought. See!' He half
drew it from its sheath and turned it before them. On
either side just below the handle, where the Runic letters
shivered as though they were alive, were two deep
gouges in the dull, deadly steel. 'Now, what Thing made
those?' said he. 'I know not, but you, perhaps, can say.'

'Tell them all the tale, Sir Richard,' said Puck. 'It
concerns their land somewhat.'

'Yes, from the very beginning,' Una pleaded, for the
knight's good face and the smile on it more than ever
reminded her of 'Sir Isumbras at the Ford'.

They settled down to listen, Sir Richard bare-headed to
the sunshine, dandling the sword in both hands, while
the grey horse cropped outside the Ring, and the helmet
on the saddle-bow clinged softly each time he jerked his head.

'From the beginning, then,' Sir Richard said, 'since it
concerns your land, I will tell the tale. When our Duke
came out of Normandy to take his England, great knights
(have ye heard?) came and strove hard to serve the Duke,
because he promised them lands here, and small knights
followed the great ones. My folk in Normandy were
poor; but a great knight, Engerrard of the Eagle -
Engenulf De Aquila - who was kin to my father, followed
the Earl of Mortain, who followed William the Duke, and
I followed De Aquila. Yes, with thirty men-at-arms out of
my father's house and a new sword, I set out to conquer
England three days after I was made knight. I did not
then know that England would conquer me. We went up
to Santlache with the rest - a very great host of us.'

'Does that mean the Battle of Hastings - Ten Sixty-Six?'
Una whispered, and Puck nodded, so as not to interrupt.

'At Santlache, over the hill yonder'- he pointed south-
eastward towards Fairlight - 'we found Harold's men.
We fought. At the day's end they ran. My men went with
De Aquila's to chase and plunder, and in that chase
Engerrard of the Eagle was slain, and his son Gilbert took
his banner and his men forward. This I did not know till
after, for Swallow here was cut in the flank, so I stayed to
wash the wound at a brook by a thorn. There a single
Saxon cried out to me in French, and we fought together.
I should have known his voice, but we fought together.
For a long time neither had any advantage, till by pure
ill-fortune his foot slipped and his sword flew from his
hand. Now I had but newly been made knight, and
wished, above all, to be courteous and fameworthy, so I
forbore to strike and bade him get his sword again. "A
plague on my sword," said he. "It has lost me my first
fight. You have spared my life. Take my sword." He held
it out to me, but as I stretched my hand the sword
groaned like a stricken man, and I leaped back crying,
"Sorcery!"'

(The children looked at the sword as though it might
speak again.)

'Suddenly a clump of Saxons ran out upon me and,
seeing a Norman alone, would have killed me, but my
Saxon cried out that I was his prisoner, and beat them off.
Thus, see you, he saved my life. He put me on my horse
and led me through the woods ten long miles to this valley.'

'To here, d'you mean?' said Una.

'To this very valley. We came in by the Lower Ford
under the King's Hill yonder' - he pointed eastward
where the valley widens.

'And was that Saxon Hugh the novice?' Dan asked.

'Yes, and more than that. He had been for three years
at the monastery at Bec by Rouen, where' - Sir Richard
chuckled - 'the Abbot Herluin would not suffer me to remain.'

'Why wouldn't he?' said Dan.

'Because I rode my horse into the refectory, when the
scholars were at meat, to show the Saxon boys we
Normans were not afraid of an Abbot. It was that very
Saxon Hugh tempted me to do it, and we had not met
since that day. I thought I knew his voice even inside my
helmet, and, for all that our Lords fought, we each
rejoiced we had not slain the other. He walked by my
side, and he told me how a heathen God, as he believed,
had given him his sword, but he said he had never heard
it sing before. I remember I warned him to beware of
sorcery and quick enchantments.' Sir Richard smiled to
himself. 'I was very young - very young!
'When we came to his house here we had almost
forgotten that we had been at blows. It was near
midnight, and the Great Hall was full of men and women
waiting news. There I first saw his sister, the Lady
Aelueva, of whom he had spoken to us in France. She
cried out fiercely at me, and would have had me hanged
in that hour, but her brother said that I had spared his life
- he said not how he saved mine from the Saxons - and
that our Duke had won the day; and even while they
wrangled over my poor body, of a sudden he fell down in
a swoon from his wounds.

"'This is thy fault," said the Lady Aelueva to me, and
she kneeled above him and called for wine and cloths.

"'If I had known," I answered, "he should have ridden
and I walked. But he set me on my horse; he made no
complaint; he walked beside me and spoke merrily
throughout. I pray I have done him no harm."

"'Thou hast need to pray," she said, catching up her
underlip. "If he dies, thou shalt hang."

'They bore off Hugh to his chamber; but three tall men
of the house bound me and set me under the beam of the
Great Hall with a rope round my neck. The end of the
rope they flung over the beam, and they sat them down
by the fire to wait word whether Hugh lived or died.
They cracked nuts with their knife-hilts the while.'

'And how did you feel?' said Dan.

'Very weary; but I did heartily pray for my schoolmate
Hugh his health. About noon I heard horses in the valley,
and the three men loosed my ropes and fled out, and
De Aquila's men rode up. Gilbert de Aquila came with them,
for it was his boast that, like his father, he forgot no man
that served him. He was little, like his father, but terrible,
with a nose like an eagle's nose and yellow eyes like an
eagle. He rode tall warhorses - roans, which he bred
himself - and he could never abide to be helped into the
saddle. He saw the rope hanging from the beam and
laughed, and his men laughed, for I was too stiff to rise.

"'This is poor entertainment for a Norman knight," he
said, "but, such as it is, let us be grateful. Show me, boy,
to whom thou owest most, and we will pay them out of hand."'

'What did he mean? To kill 'em?' said Dan.

'Assuredly. But I looked at the Lady Aelueva where
she stood among her maids, and her brother beside her.
De Aquila's men had driven them all into the Great Hall.'

'Was she pretty?' said Una.

'In all my long life I have never seen woman fit to strew
rushes before my Lady Aelueva,' the knight replied,
quite simply and quietly. 'As I looked at her I thought I
might save her and her house by a jest.

"'Seeing that I came somewhat hastily and without
warning," said I to De Aquila, "I have no fault to find
with the courtesy that these Saxons have shown me." But
my voice shook. It is - it was not good to jest with that
little man.

'All were silent awhile, till De Aquila laughed. "Look,
men - a miracle," said he. "The fight is scarce sped, my
father is not yet buried, and here we find our youngest
knight already set down in his Manor, while his Saxons -
ye can see it in their fat faces - have paid him homage and
service! By the Saints," he said, rubbing his nose, "I
never thought England would be so easy won! Surely I
can do no less than give the lad what he has taken. This
Manor shall be thine, boy," he said, "till I come again, or
till thou art slain. Now, mount, men, and ride. We follow
our Duke into Kent to make him King of England."

'He drew me with him to the door while they brought
his horse - a lean roan, taller than my Swallow here, but
not so well girthed.

"'Hark to me," he said, fretting with his great war-
gloves. "I have given thee this Manor, which is a Saxon
hornets' nest, and I think thou wilt be slain in a month -
as my father was slain. Yet if thou canst keep the roof on
the hall, the thatch on the barn, and the plough in the
furrow till I come back, thou shalt hold the Manor from
me; for the Duke has promised our Earl Mortain all the
lands by Pevensey, and Mortain will give me of them
what he would have given my father. God knows if thou
or I shall live till England is won; but remember, boy, that
here and now fighting is foolishness and" - he reached
for the reins - "craft and cunning is all."

"'Alas, I have no cunning," said I.

"'Not yet," said he, hopping abroad, foot in stirrup,
and poking his horse in the belly with his toe. "Not yet,
but I think thou hast a good teacher. Farewell! Hold the
Manor and live. Lose the Manor and hang," he said, and
spurred out, his shield-straps squeaking behind him.

'So, children, here was I, little more than a boy, and
Santlache fight not two days old, left alone with my thirty
men-at-arms, in a land I knew not, among a people
whose tongue I could not speak, to hold down the land
which I had taken from them.'

'And that was here at home?' said Una.

'Yes, here. See! From the Upper Ford, Weland's Ford,
to the Lower Ford, by the Belle Allee, west and east it ran
half a league. From the Beacon of Brunanburgh behind us
here, south and north it ran a full league - and all the
woods were full of broken men from Santlache, Saxon
thieves, Norman plunderers, robbers, and deer-stealers.
A hornets' nest indeed!

'When De Aquila had gone, Hugh would have
thanked me for saving their lives; but the Lady Aelueva
said that I had done it only for the sake of receiving the Manor.

"'How could I know that De Aquila would give it me?"
I said. "If I had told him I had spent my night in your
halter he would have burned the place twice over by now."

"'If any man had put my neck in a rope," she said, "I
would have seen his house burned thrice over before I
would have made terms."

"'But it was a woman," I said; and I laughed, and she
wept and said that I mocked her in her captivity.

"'Lady," said I, "there is no captive in this valley
except one, and he is not a Saxon."

'At this she cried that I was a Norman thief, who came
with false, sweet words, having intended from the first to
turn her out in the fields to beg her bread. Into the fields!
She had never seen the face of war!

'I was angry, and answered, "This much at least I can
disprove, for I swear" - and on my sword-hilt I swore it in
that place - "I swear I will never set foot in the Great Hall
till the Lady Aelueva herself shall summon me there."

'She went away, saying nothing, and I walked out, and
Hugh limped after me, whistling dolorously (that is a
custom of the English), and we came upon the three
Saxons that had bound me. They were now bound by my
men-at-arms, and behind them stood some fifty stark
and sullen churls of the House and the Manor, waiting to
see what should fall. We heard De Aquila's trumpets
blow thin through the woods Kentward.

"'Shall we hang these?" said my men.

"'Then my churls will fight," said Hugh, beneath his
breath; but I bade him ask the three what mercy they
hoped for.
"'None," said they all. "She bade us hang thee if our
master died. And we would have hanged thee. There is
no more to it."

'As I stood doubting, a woman ran down from the oak
wood above the King's Hill yonder, and cried out that
some Normans were driving off the swine there.

"'Norman or Saxon," said I, "we must beat them back,
or they will rob us every day. Out at them with any arms
ye have!" So I loosed those three carles and we ran
together, my men-at-arms and the Saxons with bills and
axes which they had hidden in the thatch of their huts,
and Hugh led them. Half-way up the King's Hill we
found a false fellow from Picardy - a sutler that sold wine
in the Duke's camp - with a dead knight's shield on his
arm, a stolen horse under him, and some ten or twelve
wastrels at his tail, all cutting and slashing at the pigs. We
beat them off, and saved our pork. One hundred and
seventy pigs we saved in that great battle.' Sir
Richard laughed.

'That, then, was our first work together, and I bade
Hugh tell his folk that so would I deal with any man,
knight or churl, Norman or Saxon, who stole as much as
one egg from our valley. Said he to me, riding home:
"Thou hast gone far to conquer England this evening." I
answered: "England must be thine and mine, then. Help
me, Hugh, to deal aright with these people. Make them
to know that if they slay me De Aquila will surely send to
slay them, and he will put a worse man in my place."

"That may well be true," said he, and gave me his hand.
"Better the devil we know than the devil we know not, till
we can pack you Normans home." And so, too, said his
Saxons; and they laughed as we drove the pigs downhill.
But I think some of them, even then, began not to hate me.'

'I like Brother Hugh,' said Una, softly.

'Beyond question he was the most perfect, courteous,
valiant, tender, and wise knight that ever drew breath,'
said Sir Richard, caressing the sword. 'He hung up his
sword - this sword - on the wall of the Great Hall,
because he said it was fairly mine, and never he took it
down till De Aquila returned, as I shall presently show.
For three months his men and mine guarded the valley,
till all robbers and nightwalkers learned there was
nothing to get from us save hard tack and a hanging. Side
by side we fought against all who came - thrice a week
sometimes we fought - against thieves and landless
knights looking for good manors. Then we were in some
peace, and I made shift by Hugh's help to govern the
valley - for all this valley of yours was my Manor - as a
knight should. I kept the roof on the hall and the thatch
on the barn, but ... the English are a bold people. His
Saxons would laugh and jest with Hugh, and Hugh with
them, and - this was marvellous to me - if even the
meanest of them said that such and such a thing was the
Custom of the Manor, then straightway would Hugh and
such old men of the Manor as might be near forsake
everything else to debate the matter - I have seen them
stop the Mill with the corn half ground - and if the
custom or usage were proven to be as it was said, why,
that was the end of it, even though it were flat against
Hugh, his wish and command. Wonderful!'

'Aye,' said Puck, breaking in for the first time. 'The
Custom of Old England was here before your Norman
knights came, and it outlasted them, though they fought
against it cruel.'
'Not I,' said Sir Richard. 'I let the Saxons go their
stubborn way, but when my own men-at-arms, Normans
not six months in England, stood up and told me what
was the custom of the country, then I was angry. Ah,
good days! Ah, wonderful people! And I loved them all.'
The knight lifted his arms as though he would hug the
whole dear valley, and Swallow, hearing the chink of his
chain-mail, looked up and whinnied softly.

'At last,' he went on, 'after a year of striving and
contriving and some little driving, De Aquila came to the
valley, alone and without warning. I saw him first at the
Lower Ford, with a swineherd's brat on his saddle-bow.

"'There is no need for thee to give any account of thy
stewardship," said he. "I have it all from the child here."
And he told me how the young thing had stopped his tall
horse at the Ford, by waving of a branch, and crying that
the way was barred. "And if one bold, bare babe be
enough to guard the Ford in these days, thou hast done
well," said he, and puffed and wiped his head.

'He pinched the child's cheek, and looked at our cattle
in the flat by the river.

"'Both fat," said he, rubbing his nose. "This is craft
and cunning such as I love. What did I tell thee when I
rode away, boy?"

"'Hold the Manor or hang," said I. I had never
forgotten it.

"'True. And thou hast held." He clambered from his
saddle and with his sword's point cut out a turf from the
bank and gave it me where I kneeled.'
Dan looked at Una, and Una looked at Dan.
'That's seisin,' said Puck, in a whisper.

"'Now thou art lawfully seised of the Manor, Sir
Richard," said he -'twas the first time he ever called me
that - "thou and thy heirs for ever. This must serve till the
King's clerks write out thy title on a parchment. England
is all ours - if we can hold it."

"'What service shall I pay?" I asked, and I remember I
was proud beyond words.

"'Knight's fee, boy, knight's fee!" said he, hopping
round his horse on one foot. (Have I said he was little,
and could not endure to be helped to his saddle?) "Six
mounted men or twelve archers thou shalt send me
whenever I call for them, and - where got you that corn?"
said he, for it was near harvest, and our corn stood well.
"I have never seen such bright straw. Send me three bags
of the same seed yearly, and furthermore, in memory of
our last meeting - with the rope round thy neck -
entertain me and my men for two days of each year in the
Great Hall of thy Manor."

"'Alas!" said I, "then my Manor is already forfeit. I am
under vow not to enter the Great Hall." And I told him
what I had sworn to the Lady Aelueva.'

'And hadn't you ever been into the house since?' said Una.

'Never,' Sir Richard answered, smiling. 'I had made
me a little hut of wood up the hill, and there I did justice
and slept ... De Aquila wheeled aside, and his shield
shook on his back. "No matter, boy," said he. "I will
remit the homage for a year."'

'He meant Sir Richard needn't give him dinner there
the first year,' Puck explained.

'De Aquila stayed with me in the hut, and Hugh, who
could read and write and cast accounts, showed him the
Roll of the Manor, in which were written all the names of
our fields and men, and he asked a thousand questions
touching the land, the timber, the grazing, the mill, and
the fish-ponds, and the worth of every man in the valley.
But never he named the Lady Aelueva's name, nor went
he near the Great Hall. By night he drank with us in the
hut. Yes, he sat on the straw like an eagle ruffled in her
feathers, his yellow eyes rolling above the cup, and he
pounced in his talk like an eagle, swooping from one
thing to another, but always binding fast. Yes; he would
lie still awhile, and then rustle in the straw, and speak
sometimes as though he were King William himself, and
anon he would speak in parables and tales, and if at once
we saw not his meaning he would yerk us in the ribs with
his scabbarded sword.

"'Look you, boys," said he, "I am born out of my due
time. Five hundred years ago I would have made all
England such an England as neither Dane, Saxon, nor
Norman should have conquered. Five hundred years
hence I should have been such a counsellor to Kings as
the world hath never dreamed of. 'Tis all here," said he,
tapping his big head, "but it hath no play in this black
age. Now Hugh here is a better man than thou art,
Richard." He had made his voice harsh and croaking, like
a raven's.

"'Truth," said I. "But for Hugh, his help and patience
and long-suffering, I could never have kept the Manor."

"'Nor thy life either," said De Aquila. "Hugh has
saved thee not once, but a hundred times. Be still,
Hugh!" he said. "Dost thou know, Richard, why Hugh
slept, and why he still sleeps, among thy Norman men-
at-arms?"

"'To be near me," said I, for I thought this was truth.

"'Fool!" said De Aquila. "It is because his Saxons have
begged him to rise against thee, and to sweep every
Norman out of the valley. No matter how I know. It is
truth. Therefore Hugh hath made himself an hostage for
thy life, well knowing that if any harm befell thee from
his Saxons thy Normans would slay him without
remedy. And this his Saxons know. Is it true, Hugh?"

"'In some sort," said Hugh shamefacedly; "at least, it
was true half a year ago. My Saxons would not harm
Richard now. I think they know him - but I judged it best
to make sure."

'Look, children, what that man had done - and I had
never guessed it! Night after night had he lain down
among my men-at-arms, knowing that if one Saxon had
lifted knife against me, his life would have answered for mine.

"'Yes," said De Aquila. "And he is a swordless man."
He pointed to Hugh's belt, for Hugh had put away his
sword - did I tell you? - the day after it flew from his hand
at Santlache. He carried only the short knife and the
long-bow. "Swordless and landless art thou, Hugh; and
they call thee kin to Earl Godwin." (Hugh was indeed of
Godwin's blood.) "The Manor that was thine is given to
this boy and to his children for ever. Sit up and beg, for he
can turn thee out like a dog, Hugh."

'Hugh said nothing, but I heard his teeth grind, and I
bade De Aquila, my own overlord, hold his peace, or I
would stuff his words down his throat. Then De Aquila
laughed till the tears ran down his face.

"'I warned the King," said he, "what would come of
giving England to us Norman thieves. Here art thou,
Richard, less than two days confirmed in thy Manor, and
already thou hast risen against thy overlord. What shall
we do to him, Sir Hugh?"

"'I am a swordless man," said Hugh. "Do not jest with
me," and he laid his head on his knees and groaned.

"'The greater fool thou," said De Aquila, and all his
voice changed; "for I have given thee the Manor of
Dallington up the hill this half-hour since," and he
yerked at Hugh with his scabbard across the straw.

"'To me?" said Hugh. "I am a Saxon, and, except that
I love Richard here, I have not sworn fealty to any Norman."

"'In God's good time, which because of my sins I shall
not live to see, there will be neither Saxon nor Norman
in England," said De Aquila. "If I know men, thou art
more faithful unsworn than a score of Normans I could
name. Take Dallington, and join Sir Richard to fight me
tomorrow, if it please thee!"

"'Nay," said Hugh. "I am no child. Where I take a gift,
there I render service"; and he put his hands between De
Aquila's, and swore to be faithful, and, as I remember, I
kissed him, and De Aquila kissed us both.

'We sat afterwards outside the hut while the sun rose,
and De Aquila marked our churls going to their work in
the fields, and talked of holy things, and how we should
govern our Manors in time to come, and of hunting and
of horse-breeding, and of the King's wisdom and
unwisdom; for he spoke to us as though we were in all sorts
now his brothers. Anon a churl stole up to me - he was
one of the three I had not hanged a year ago - and he
bellowed - which is the Saxon for whispering - that the
Lady Aelueva would speak to me at the Great House. She
walked abroad daily in the Manor, and it was her custom
to send me word whither she went, that I might set an
archer or two behind and in front to guard her. Very often
I myself lay up in the woods and watched on her also.

'I went swiftly, and as I passed the great door it opened
from within, and there stood my Lady Aelueva, and she
said to me: "Sir Richard, will it please you enter your
Great Hall?" Then she wept, but we were alone.'

The knight was silent for a long time, his face turned
across the valley, smiling.
'Oh, well done!' said Una, and clapped her hands very
softly. 'She was sorry, and she said so.'

'Aye, she was sorry, and she said so,' said Sir Richard,
coming back with a little start. 'Very soon - but he said it
was two full hours later - De Aquila rode to the door,
with his shield new scoured (Hugh had cleansed it), and
demanded entertainment, and called me a false knight,
that would starve his overlord to death. Then Hugh cried
out that no man should work in the valley that day, and
our Saxons blew horns, and set about feasting and drinking,
and running of races, and dancing and singing; and
De Aquila climbed upon a horse-block and spoke to
them in what he swore was good Saxon, but no man
understood it. At night we feasted in the Great Hall, and
when the harpers and the singers were gone we four sat
late at the high table. As I remember, it was a warm night
with a full moon, and De Aquila bade Hugh take down
his sword from the wall again, for the honour of the
Manor of Dallington, and Hugh took it gladly enough.
Dust lay on the hilt, for I saw him blow it off.

'She and I sat talking a little apart, and at first we
thought the harpers had come back, for the Great Hall
was filled with a rushing noise of music. De Aquila
leaped up; but there was only the moonlight fretty on the floor.

"'Hearken!" said Hugh. "It is my sword," and as he
belted it on the music ceased.

"'Over Gods, forbid that I should ever belt blade like
that," said De Aquila. "What does it foretell?"

"'The Gods that made it may know. Last time it spoke
was at Hastings, when I lost all my lands. Belike it sings
now that I have new lands and am a man again," said Hugh.

'He loosed the blade a little and drove it back happily
into the sheath, and the sword answered him low and
crooningly, as - as a woman would speak to a man, her
head on his shoulder.

'Now that was the second time in all my life I heard this
Sword sing.' ...

'Look!' said Una. 'There's Mother coming down the Long
Slip. What will she say to Sir Richard? She can't help
seeing him.'

'And Puck can't magic us this time,' said Dan.

'Are you sure?' said Puck; and he leaned forward and
whispered to Sir Richard, who, smiling, bowed his head.
'But what befell the sword and my brother Hugh I will
tell on another time,' said he, rising. 'Ohe, Swallow!'
The great horse cantered up from the far end of the
meadow, close to Mother.

They heard Mother say: 'Children, Gleason's old horse
has broken into the meadow again. Where did he get through?'
(*49)

'Just below Stone Bay,' said Dan. 'He tore down simple
flobs of the bank! We noticed it just now. And we've
caught no end of fish. We've been at it all the afternoon.'
And they honestly believed that they had. They never
noticed the Oak, Ash and Thorn leaves that Puck had
slyly thrown into their laps.

Sir Richard's Song

I followed my Duke ere I was a lover,
To take from England fief and fee;
But now this game is the other way over -
But now England hath taken me!
I had my horse, my shield and banner,
And a boy's heart, so whole and free;
But now I sing in another manner -
But now England hath taken me!
As for my Father in his tower,
Asking news of my ship at sea;
He will remember his own hour -
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my Mother in her bower,
That rules my Father so cunningly;
She will remember a maiden's power -
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my Brother in Rouen city,
A nimble and naughty page is he;
But he will come to suffer and pity -
Tell him England hath taken me!
As for my little Sister waiting
In the pleasant orchards of Normandie;
Tell her youth is the time of mating -
Tell her England hath taken me!
As for my Comrades in camp and highway,
That lift their eyebrows scornfully;
Tell them their way is not my way -
Tell them England hath taken me!
Kings and Princes and Barons famed,
Knights and Captains in your degree;
Hear me a little before I am blamed -
Seeing England hath taken me!
Howso great man's strength be reckoned,
There are two things he cannot flee;
Love is the first, and Death is the second -
And Love, in England, hath taken me!

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