me sorely to-day, and I cannot remember."

At this point the Earl of Alban came quietly and deliberately forward.
"Sire," said he, "pardon my boldness in so venturing to address you, but
haply I may bring the name more clearly to your mind. He is, as my Lord
of Mackworth said, the whilom Baron Falworth, the outlawed, attainted
traitor; so declared for the harboring of Sir John Dale, who was one of
those who sought your Majesty's life at Windsor eleven years ago.
Sire, he is mine enemy as well, and is brought hither by my proclaimed
enemies. Should aught occur to my harm, I rest my case in your gracious
hands."

The dusty red flamed into the King's pale, sickly face in answer, and he
rose hastily from his seat.

"Aye," said he, "I remember me now--I remember me the man and the name!
Who hath dared bring him here before us?" All the dull heaviness of
sickness was gone for the moment, and King Henry was the King Henry of
ten years ago as he rolled his eyes balefully from one to another of the
courtiers who stood silently around.

The Earl of Mackworth shot a covert glance at the Bishop of Winchester,
who came forward in answer.

"Your Majesty," said he, "here am I, your brother, who beseech you as
your brother not to judge over-hastily in this matter. It is true
that this man has been adjudged a traitor, but he has been so adjudged
without a hearing. I beseech thee to listen patiently to whatsoever he
may have to say."

The King fixed the Bishop with a look of the bitterest, deepest anger,
holding his nether lip tightly under his teeth--a trick he had when
strongly moved with anger--and the Bishop's eyes fell under the look.
Meantime the Earl of Alban stood calm and silent. No doubt he saw that
the King's anger was likely to befriend him more than any words that he
himself could say, and he perilled his case with no more speech which
could only prove superfluous.

At last the King turned a face red and swollen with anger to the blind
Lord, who still kneeled before him.

"What hast thou to say?" he said, in a deep and sullen voice.

"Gracious and merciful Lord," said the blind nobleman, "I come to thee,
the fountain-head of justice, craving justice. Sire, I do now and here
deny my treason, which denial I could not before make, being blind and
helpless, and mine enemies strong and malignant. But now, sire, Heaven
hath sent me help, and therefore I do acclaim before thee that my
accuser, William Bushy Brookhurst,