He laid his right hand on Fulk’s shoulder, and, leaning forward, looked into his eyes. “I loved the Black Prince, and I have lain across the door of his tent at night. In the French wars we were brothers in arms, and, by God! you have his eyes, the set of his head, the very turn of his shoulders. It’s damnable, marvellous!” His grip tightened on Fulk’s shoulder. “The King is but fifteen, and you some five years older, yet you might pass, before a crowd, for the King. That friar had quick wits! What a devil’s game, with half the country in a panic and the other half foaming like a dog gone mad. Lancaster in Scotland, Woodstock in Wales, half our best knights sailed or sailing for Spain! Fulk Ferrers, has no man ever whispered this tale to you before?” Fulk had no need to shirk the other’s eyes. “Never a word. I have lived the forest life.” “Who knows the truth? She—who——! Damnation, it was her splendour to mate with such a man, and no shame.” He turned his head, and stared at the water running past, his hand still on Fulk’s shoulder. “If we had but such a Prince! Bah! what am I saying?” His eyes flashed up to Fulk’s. “Come now, what’s in your heart? Out with it. If you are the son of your father you will be gallant and generous.” “I swear troth to the King. Let men call me a bastard if it pleases them; there is good blood in me.” “Am I to trust you?” “As you trusted the Prince.” “That carries! But, by my honour, we are in the thick of crooked happenings. A boy King, and the rabble rushing to make a Jumping Jack of him, and he none too stiff in his knees! You see—I trust you. We rode out here to see if any of this scum had crossed the river. I see no other way but to take you back with us.” “I ask nothing better than to follow Robert Knollys.” They had taken each other’s measure, and they gripped hands. “I am to trust Robert Knollys, as he trusts in me.” “Take my oath on it.” “It is given and taken.” The elder man thought a moment. “Lad, no one yet must see your face.” He turned in the saddle and shouted to a squire who was waiting with his pennon on the northern bank. “Fitzurse—hey!” “Sir?” “Leave my helmet on the grass. Tell my gentlemen to ride back straight to the city. I follow—with a friend.” He and Fulk waited, sitting their horses in the midst of the river, while the company of spears turned and rode off with a churning of dust into the aspen wood. The thunder of the horses’ hoofs had nearly died away before Knollys stirred. “Come.” They splashed through to the northern bank together. A vizored bassinet lay on the grass beside the road, and Knollys pointed to it, and glanced meaningly at Fulk. “Cover your face, my son. A good hawk will not bate at being hooded.”