He was a third of the way across when the knight of the red velvet cap kicked his heels into the flanks of his black horse and came splashing into the shallows. He of the red cap had the face of a great captain—haughty, shrewd, iron about the mouth, with blue eyes that looked straight and far, eyes that could strike like a sword. Fulk felt the man’s eyes on him as they splashed through the water towards each other; moreover, as they drew nearer he saw something like astonishment gather on the other’s face like a dazzle of sunlight on a shield. They met, and reined in in the midst of the stream, the knight on the black horse bending forward slightly in the saddle. His eyes seemed to wait, and to wonder, and his iron mouth remained shut like a trap. Fulk saluted him. “The grace of God to you, sir. I have seen nothing but brown villeins for the last ten days.” The knight still stared and said nothing, sitting stiffly in the saddle. Suddenly he opened his mouth as though his astonishment could hold back no longer. “By the tail of the devil, my friend, who are you?” Fulk was on the alert. “The Duke of Lancaster’s Riding Forester, the son of Roger Ferrers.” Fulk saw the knight’s eyebrows come together. “Roger Ferrers’ son!”—and he spoke as though talking to prove to himself that he was awake—“Roger Ferrers’ son! Have I eyes in my head or not? Look you, my friend, have you heard the name of Sir Robert Knollys?” “Surely.” “I am he. Come close in, your knee to mine.” Fulk edged his horse closer, and he of the red cap sat and stared at him, and at every part of him from eyebrows to hands. He traced every line, every trick of the body, and the more he looked the more he seemed to marvel. “Monstrous! You have steady eyes, young man.” “And an easy conscience!” “Come, tell me now, Master Ferrers, whither do you ride, and for what purpose?” “I ride nowhere, and I keep my own counsel.” “Tsst, no fencing with me. I am to be trusted.” “To be honest with you, sir, I have had to run for my life from certain people who were for making me dance like a doll on a wire.” “And how was the doll to be dressed?” “In a King’s robes, and with a crown on its head.” He saw Knollys’ eyes flash and harden. “By the Three Leopards, speak out! How much do you know?” Fulk told him the tale that Merlin had poured into his ears, and Robert Knollys listened, never moving his eyes from Fulk’s face. Their horses stood shoulder to shoulder, with the water washing under their bellies, while the armed men on the northern bank wondered why their captain tarried so long at the ford. “The ruffian priest! And the woman saved ye, and lost her own life? That was bravely done. But look you, my friend; the truth’s writ on you in flesh and blood. You are as like the King as one bean is like another, save—this in your ear—you have something the King lacks. I judge a man by his eyes. How old are you?” “Turned twenty.” “And old at that. Let me think, let me think.”