or-roll, that De Aquila said soon there
would be no Normans left in England if his men-at-arms did their work
aright."

"'Bones of the Saints!" said De Aquila. "What avail is honour or a
sword against a pen? Where did Gilbert hide that writing? He shall
eat it."

"'In his breast when he ran out," said Hugh. "Which made me look to
see where he kept his finished stuff. When Odo scratched at this stone
here, I saw his face change. So I was sure."

"'He is bold," said De Aquila. "Do him justice. In his own fashion,
my Gilbert is bold."

"'Overbold," said Hugh. "Hearken here," and he read: "Upon the Feast
of St Agatha, our Lord of Pevensey, lying in his upper chamber, being
clothed in his second fur gown reversed with rabbit--"

"'Pest on him! He is not my tire-woman!" said De Aquila, and Hugh and
I laughed. "'Reversed with rabbit, seeing a fog over the marshes, did
wake Sir Richard Dalyngridge, his drunken cup-mate" (here they laughed
at me) "and said, 'Peer out, old fox, for God is on the Duke of
Normandy's side."'

"'So did I. It was a black fog. Robert could have landed ten thousand
men, and we none the wiser. Does he tell how we were out all day
riding the Marsh, and how I near perished in a quicksand, and coughed
like a sick ewe for ten days after?" cried De Aquila.

"'No," said Hugh. "But here is the prayer of Gilbert himself to his
master Fulke."

"'Ah," said De Aquila. "Well I knew it was Fulke. What is the price of
my blood?"

"'Gilbert prayeth that when our Lord of Pevensey is stripped of his
lands on this evidence which Gilbert hath, with fear and pains,
collected--"

"'Fear and pains is a true word," said De Aquila, and sucked in his
cheeks. "But how excellent a weapon is a pen! I must learn it."

"'He prays that Fulke will advance him from his present service to that
honour in the Church which Fulke promised him. And lest Fulke should
forget, he has written below, 'To be Sacristan of Battle'."

'At this De Aquila whistled. "A man who can plot against one lord can
plot against another. When I am stripped of my lands Fulke will whip
off my Gilbert's foolish head. None the less Battle needs a new
Sacristan. They tell me the Abbot Henry keeps no sort of rule there."

"'Let the Abbot wait," said Hugh. "It is our heads and our lands that
are in danger. This parchment is the second part of the tale. The
first has gone to Fulke, and so to the King, who will hold us traitors."