Robert felt pleased at being CALLED brave, and somehow it made him FEEL brave. He passed over the 'varlet'. It was the way people talked in historical romances for the young, he knew, and it was evidently not meant for rudeness. He only hoped he would be able to understand what they said to him. He had not always been able quite to follow the conversations in the historical romances for the young. 'His garb is strange,' said the other. 'Some outlandish treachery, belike.' 'Say, lad, what brings thee hither?' Robert knew this meant, 'Now then, youngster, what are you up to here, eh?' - so he said: 'If you please, I want to go home.' 'Go, then!' said the man in the longest boots; 'none hindereth, and nought lets us to follow. Zooks!' he added in a cautious undertone, 'I misdoubt me but he beareth tidings to the besieged.' 'Where dwellest thou, young knave?' inquired the man with the largest steel-cap. 'Over there,' said Robert; and directly he had said it he knew he ought to have said 'Yonder!' 'Ha - sayest so?' rejoined the longest boots. 'Come hither, boy. This is a matter for our leader.' And to the leader Robert was dragged forthwith - by the reluctant ear. The leader was the most glorious creature Robert had ever seen. He was exactly like the pictures Robert had so often admired in the historical romances. He had armour, and a helmet, and a horse, and a crest, and feathers, and a shield, and a lance, and a sword. His armour and his weapons were all, I am almost sure, of quite different periods. The shield was thirteenth-century, while the sword was of the pattern used in the Peninsular War. The cuirass was of the time of Charles I, and the helmet dated from the Second Crusade. The arms on the shield were very grand - three red running lions on a blue ground. The tents were of the latest brand and the whole appearance of camp, army, and leader might have been a shock to some. But Robert was dumb with admiration, and it all seemed to him perfectly correct, because he knew no more of heraldry or archaeology than the gifted artists who usually drew the pictures for the historical romances. The scene was indeed 'exactly like a picture'. He admired it all so much that he felt braver than ever. 'Come hither, lad,' said the glorious leader, when the men in Cromwellian steel-caps had said a few low eager words. And he took off his helmet, because he could not see properly with it on. He had a kind face, and long fair hair. 'Have no fear; thou shalt take no scathe,' he said. Robert was glad of that. He wondered what 'scathe' was, and if it was nastier than the senna tea which he had to take sometimes. 'Unfold thy tale without alarm,' said the leader kindly. 'Whence comest thou, and what is thine intent?' 'My what?' said Robert.