Richard glanced at the faces of the two lords, but in their eyes he saw the same words shining unspoken. Their eyes cowed him, and he began to whimper. “Sirs, will you drive me witless with shame?” Knollys softened. “Son of a great prince, follow your sire and all this shall be buried. Let this shame be trodden under your feet. Play the King, and all men shall hail you King and son of your father.” Richard was cunning behind his cowering. “But this Fulk Ferrers, what shall be done with him?” Knollys’ wrath revived. “Done with him? If there is a heart in you, sir, you will do deeds that are noble. Fulk Ferrers can keep faith. Let him be honoured—in good season. Let him have a coffer full of gold, knighthood, a company of spears at his back, a pennon to carry. He will not cumber this kingship of yours. The falcon flies where the quarry is to be stooped at.” “What mean you, sir?” “Are there not wars and great adventures in France and Spain? Are not great knights and captains welcomed? This son of a prince will not wilt on a doorstep.” They left him alone in his chamber to think over their words, and went below to a room that was used as a council chamber, and gathered the King’s Council about the board. Other lords and knights, good men and honourable, had been told the truth, swearing on the Cross to keep it hidden. It was midnight, and they debated together, while Cavendish slept across the door. “What is to be done, sirs? This hawk cannot fly as he pleases.” Walworth had a plan to offer, and he was as shrewd as any man in London. “Gentlemen, suffer me. This young man has dealt valiantly with us; let us deal valiantly with him. By the Lord Christ, I, for one, am ready to dip into my coffers. Let him have arms and horses, and treasure—good men, and a good ship. Let him sail into Spain or Portugal. Let us make him a King of Adventure.” The rest applauded. Salisbury took up the talking. “You are a wise man, Walworth, and a generous, but the moment is urgent. Two Kings in one house—tsst, it is too perilous! We must hide him somewhere till the wind has fallen—he and this love of his, Isoult of the Rose.” “Whence comes she?” “God knows. Half Breton, half English, I have heard it whispered.” Knollys caught Walworth’s eyes. “Walworth has a plan. Let him speak.” “Sirs, in Surrey, there is the King’s Manor of the Black Mere—the house set on an island in the midst of a goodly sheet of water, very solitary and very safe. Let him go thither, riding by night, and lie hidden there with a few men who can be trusted.” “Aye, and let him grow a beard. It will cover up the kingliness.” “There is much in a beard—a good lusty beard!” “Then, when ’tis safe, we will launch this good falcon and his mate into the Spanish skies.” Knollys put in a last word. “I and ten of my men will ride with them to the Black Mere. Can you give us a guide, Sir Mayor?” “Aye, one to be trusted.”