"Assuredly," said De Aquila. "Fulke's man took the first part that
evening when Gilbert fed him, and our King is so beset by his brother
and his Barons (small blame, too!) that he is mad with mistrust. Fulke
has his ear, and pours poison into it. Presently the King gives him my
land and yours. This is old," and he leaned back and yawned.

"'And thou wilt surrender Pevensey without word or blow?" said Hugh.
"We Saxons will fight your King then. I will go warn my nephew at
Dallington. Give me a horse!"

"'Give thee a toy and a rattle," said De Aquila. "Put back the
parchment, and rake over the ashes. If Fulke is given my Pevensey,
which is England's gate, what will he do with it? He is Norman at
heart, and his heart is in Normandy, where he can kill peasants at his
pleasure. He will open England's gate to our sleepy Robert, as Odo and
Mortain tried to do, and then there will be another landing and another
Santlache. Therefore I cannot give up Pevensey."

"'Good," said we two.

"'Ah, but wait! If my King be made, on Gilbert's evidence, to mistrust
me, he will send his men against me here, and while we fight, England's
gate is left unguarded. Who will be the first to come through thereby?
Even Robert of Normandy. Therefore I cannot fight my King." He nursed
his sword--thus.

"'This is saying and unsaying like a Norman," said Hugh. "What of our
Manors?"

"'I do not think for myself," said De Aquila, "nor for our King, nor
for your lands. I think for England, for whom neither King nor Baron
thinks. I am not Norman, Sir Richard, nor Saxon, Sir Hugh. English am
I."

"'Saxon, Norman or English," said Hugh, "our lives are thine, however
the game goes. When do we hang Gilbert?"

"'Never," said De Aquila. "Who knows, he may yet be Sacristan of
Battle, for, to do him justice, he is a good writer. Dead men make
dumb witnesses. Wait."

"'But the King may give Pevensey to Fulke. And our Manors go with it,"
said I. "Shall we tell our sons?"

"'No. The King will not wake up a hornets' nest in the South till he
has smoked out the bees in the North. He may hold me a traitor; but at
least he sees I am not fighting against him; and every day that I lie
still is so much gain to him while he fights the Barons. If he were
wise he would wait till that war were over before he made new enemies.
But I think Fulke will play upon him to send for me, and if I do not
obey the summons, that will, to Henry's mind, b