But poor little Martin—the lad from the greenwood— surely it was a great mistake to expose him to the jeers and sarcasms of the lads of his own age, but of another culture; every time he opened his mouth he betrayed the Englishman, and it was not until the following reign that Edward the First, by himself adopting that designation as the proudest he could claim, redeemed it from being, as it had been since the Conquest, a term of opprobrium and reproach. The day always began at Kenilworth Castle with an early mass in the chapel at sunrise; then, unless it were a hunting morning, the whole bevy of pages was handed over to the chaplain for a few brief hours of study, for the earl was himself a literary man, and would fain have all under him instructed in the rudiments of learning {7}. Hubert did not show to advantage, for he regarded all such studies as a degrading remnant of his life at Michelham, yet none could read and write so well as he amongst the pages, and he had his Latin declensions and conjugations well by heart, while he could read and interpret in good Norman French, or indifferent English, the Gospels in the large illuminated Missal; but the silly lad was actually ashamed of this, and would have bartered it all for the emptiest success in the tilt yard. On the contrary, little Martin, who could not yet read a line, was throwing the whole deep earnestness of an active intellect into the work. “Courage! little friend,” said the chaplain, “and thou wilt do as well as the wisest here, only be not impatient or discouraged.” And to Hubert he said one day: “This hardly represents your best work, my son, you did better even yesterday.” Hubert tossed his head. “Martin cares only for books—I want to learn better things; he may be a monk, I will be a soldier.” “And dost thou know,” said a deep voice, “what is the first duty of a soldier?” It was the stern figure of the earl who stood unobserved in the doorway of the library. Hubert hung his head. “Obedience!” “And know this,” added the speaker, “that learning distinguishes the man from the brute, as religion distinguishes him from the devil.” The two medieval boys, with the story of whose lives this veracious chronicle concerns itself, were indeed singularly unlike in their tastes and dispositions.