‘“Give thee a toy and a rattle.” said De Aquila. “Put back the parchment, and rake over the ashes. If Fulke is given my Pevensey which is England’s gate, what will he do with it? He is Norman at heart, and his heart is in Normandy, where he can kill peasants at his pleasure. He will open England’s gate to our sleepy Robert, as Odo and Mortain tried to do, and then there will be another landing and another Santlache. Therefore I cannot give up Pevensey.” ‘“Good,” said we two. ‘“Ah, but wait! If my King be made, on Gilbert’s evidence, to mistrust me, he will send his men against me here, and, while we fight, England’s gate is left unguarded. Who will be the first to come through thereby? Even Robert of Normandy. Therefore I cannot fight my King.” He nursed his sword—thus. ‘“This is saying and unsaying like a Norman,” said Hugh. “What of our Manors?” ‘“I do not think for myself,” said De Aquila, “nor for our King, nor for your lands. I think for England, for whom neither King nor Baron thinks. I am not Norman, Sir Richard, nor Saxon, Sir Hugh. English am I.” ‘“Saxon, Norman, or English,” said Hugh, “our lives are thine, however the game goes. When do we hang Gilbert?” ‘“Never,” said De Aquila. “Who knows he may yet be Sacristan of Battle, for, to do him justice, he is a good writer. Dead men make dumb witnesses. Wait.” ‘“But the King may give Pevensey to Fulke. And our Manors go with it,” said I. “Shall we tell our sons?” ‘“No. The King will not wake up a hornet’s nest in the South till he has smoked out the bees in the North. He may hold me a traitor; but at least he sees I am not fighting against him, and every day that I lie still is so much gain to him while he fights the barons. If he were wise he would wait till that war were over before he made new enemies. But I think Fulke will play upon him to send for me, and if I do not obey the summons that will, to Henry’s mind, be proof of my treason. But mere talk, such as Gilbert sends, is no proof nowadays. We Barons follow the Church, and, like Anselm, we speak what we please. Let us go about our day’s dealings, and say naught to Gilbert.” ‘“Then we do nothing?” said Hugh. ‘“We wait,” said De Aquila. “I am old, but still I find that the most grievous work I know.” ‘And so we found it, but in the end De Aquila was right. ‘A little later in the year, armed men rode over the hill, the Golden Horseshoes flying behind the King’s banner. Said De Aquila, at the window of our chamber: “How did I tell you? Here comes Fulke himself to spy out his new lands which our King hath promised him if he can bring proof of my treason.” ‘“How dost thou know?” said Hugh. ‘“Because that is what I would do if I were Fulke, but _I_ should have brought more men. My roan horse to your old shoes,” said he, “Fulke brings me the King’s Summons to leave Pevensey and join the war.” He sucked in his cheeks and drummed on the edge of the shaft, where the water sounded all hollow. ‘“Shall we go?” said I.