" said the Crab.

"'That is one of Fulke's men," said De Aquila.'

Puck broke in very gently, 'Gold horseshoes on black is not the Fulkes'
shield. The Fulkes' arms are--'

The knight waved one hand statelily.

'Thou knowest that evil man's true name,' he replied, 'but I have
chosen to call him Fulke because I promised him I would not tell the
story of his wickedness so that any man might guess it. I have changed
all the names in my tale. His children's children may be still alive.'

'True--true,' said Puck, smiling softly. 'It is knightly to keep
faith--even after a thousand years.'

Sir Richard bowed a little and went on:

"'Gold horseshoes on black?" said De Aquila. "I had heard Fulke had
joined the Barons, but if this is true our King must be of the upper
hand. No matter, all Fulkes are faithless. Still, I would not have
sent the man away empty."

"'He fed," said jehan. "Gilbert the Clerk fetched him meat and wine
from the kitchens. He ate at Gilbert's table."

'This Gilbert was a clerk from Battle Abbey, who kept the accounts of
the Manor of Pevensey. He was tall and pale-coloured, and carried
those new-fashioned beads for counting of prayers. They were large
brown nuts or seeds, and hanging from his girdle with his pen and
ink-horn they clashed when he walked. His place was in the great
fireplace. There was his table of accounts, and there he lay o'
nights. He feared the hounds in the Hall that came nosing after bones
or to sleep on the warm ashes, and would slash at them with his
beads--like a woman. When De Aquila sat in Hall to do justice, take
fines, or grant lands, Gilbert would so write it in the Manor-roll.
But it was none of his work to feed our guests, or to let them depart
without his lord's knowledge.

'Said De Aquila, after jehan was gone down the stair: "Hugh, hast thou
ever told my Gilbert thou canst read Latin hand-of-write?"

"'No," said Hugh. "He is no friend to me, or to Odo my hound either."

"'No matter," said De Aquila. "Let him never know thou canst tell one
letter from its fellow, and"--there he yerked us in the ribs with his
scabbard--"watch him, both of ye. There be devils in Africa, as I have
heard, but by the Saints, there be greater devils in Pevensey!" And
that was all he would say.

'It chanced, some small while afterwards, a Norman man-at-arms would
wed a Saxon wench of the Manor, and Gilbert (we had watched him well
since De Aquila spoke) doubted whe