As soon as Marvin had entered, my mother rose and, calling Cedric to her, found some duty upon which to employ him, so that he left the hall, and was seen no more till late at night. Meanwhile the old archer had explained to us that a message had just come to him from his brother who was a forester on the lands of Lord Morton, a day’s journey to the north. Marvin had not seen his brother for twenty years; and when last they parted it was in some coldness; but now the other, who was a few years older than Marvin, was lying sick in his cottage at Morton, and asked his brother to come to him that they might be reconciled ere he died. He offered, if Marvin would come and stay with him to the end, to settle upon him as his heir any goods or savings he might have. Marvin now craved leave to join a merchants’ caravan which was just setting forth in that direction, that he might comply with his brother’s last request. On hearing Marvin through, my father instantly gave his leave, and ordered furthermore that a good horse from the Mountjoy stables be placed at his disposal. Thereupon our faithful old retainer bade us a hasty good-by, for the caravan was already on the road; and we wished him a safe return. My mother and I did hope and plan that Lord Mountjoy might easily forget the dispute he had with Cedric; and to that end found means to keep Cedric busily employed through the following morning; and at the midday meal did turn the talk toward the great tournament that was soon to be held at Shrewsbury. But some Imp of Mischief had his way at last, for at mid-afternoon my father entered the hall and found Cedric by the fireside, deep in the great book of chronicles. This was enough to bring to mind the heresies that Cedric had found therein; and in a moment all the anger of the day before flamed up again. Soon Lord Mountjoy was shouting in his wrath, declaring that the nation went to the dogs where curs and clowns were not duly subject to their lawful masters, and that if Cedric would mend his fortunes, he must first cast out such folly from his mind. Cedric replied, in lower tones indeed, but by no means meekly, upholding what he called the rights of English freemen to household and to peaceable assembly and to trial, when accused, by juries of their peers. At last my father checked his speaking, and said slowly and in cold anger: “I tell thee, sirrah, thou’lt mend thy clownish ways of thinking if thou’rt to remain in Mountjoy Hall. We’ll have no rebel firebrands—no ale-house ranters with their crazy mouthings,—stirring up our yeomanry through thee. While I hold the fee of Mountjoy, every man-jack in cot or in castle must be a loyal subject of the King and of his liege lord.” At this my squire made a low bow and said: “I thank you then, my lord, for all your kindness, and will say farewell. I can say naught but the truth for either friend or foe.”