“I told thee not in order that I might gain a prize. And for my shooting this day no prize will I take. I somehow could not bear that thou should’st think me so poor an archer as this day’s work did show; but now I hold thee to thy knightly word, well and freely given.” I could think of no word more to say nor any way of moving him from his resolve. So we walked slowly back to the hall, and in silence, for Cedric was ever of few words, and I was thinking deeply on his obstinacy. In the courtyard and in the hall we found the feast was yet in progress. Truly, if our men of England do work and fight as valiantly as they eat and drink, ’tis no wonder that our land grows in power and holds up its head among nations. I left Cedric at his former seat, and walked straight across the hall to my father. Cedric’s eyes followed me, for it was plain that he yet feared I might tell Lord Mountjoy how our archery meet had been guided. And I cast back at Cedric, as I went, a sly and crafty look which did nothing [to] reassure him. Soon I gained the ear of my father; and for half a minute did speak to him full earnestly. To which he straightway made answer in his strong and goodly tones which Cedric and many others might well hear above the hum of voices and the clatter of the serving-men: “Marry! Well bethought, Dickon. It were indeed a shame to let such archery at our festival go unrewarded. ’Twill pleasure Cedric also; and, truly, he hath borne himself well this day.” Rising, he addressed the company: “Ho! good friends all! Fair ladies and most worshipful knights and gentlemen: I go to the courtyard to say to our yeomanry assembled there some words that you may also wish to hear.” Then he passed out of the hall, and all the lords and ladies rose to follow him. Cedric and I were last. As we waited for the crowd to pass through the doorway, he whispered, sharply: “Hast thou then told Lord Mountjoy after all?” I smiled in answer. “Contain thyself, good Cedric, and hear what thou shalt hear.” He would have questioned further, but at that moment my father’s voice was heard in the courtyard. “Friends and Well Wishers of the House of Mountjoy: I know full well, ’twill pleasure you to hear that the prize that our good Marvin hath so truly won this day is not the sole prize of our festival. The cross-bow is a noble weapon, but the long-bow of Merry England is no less; and we have seen some archery to-day that must not go without a guerdon. Therefore to Elbert, Forester of Pelham and father of Cedric, now of our house, I give his choice of any cow in the Mountjoy herds, saving only that which Marvin chooses. To John o’ the Wallfield also I make gift of a good steel cross-bow of the sort which Marvin tells me he much desires, and with which he may better even the archery he hath bravely shown to-day.