ipful master, Hubert of Hastings,
ship-owner, householder, and trader of this town. Or at least he was
these things, but now it seems that his ships and house are burnt and
his mother with them; also that there will be no trade in Hastings for
many a day."

"Mayhap," answered Sir Robert, adding other oaths, "but why does he buss
my daughter?"

"Perchance because he must give as good as he got, which is a law among
honest merchants, noble Sir Robert. Or perchance because he has a better
right to buss her than any man alive, seeing that but for him, by now
she would be but stinking clay, or a Frenchman's leman."

Here the fine young captain cut in, saying,

"Whatever else this worshipful trader may need, he does not lack a
trumpeter."

"That is so, my Lord Deleroy," replied William, unmoved, "for when I
find a good song I like to sing it. Go now and look at those three men
who lie yonder on the slope, and see whether the arrows in them bear my
master's mark. Go also and look upon the Castle hill and find a knight
with his head well-nigh hewn from his shoulders, and see whether yonder
sword fits into the cut. Aye, and at others that I could tell you of,
slain, every one of them, to save this fair lady. Aye, go you whose
garments are so fine and unstained, and then come back and talk of
trumpeters."

"Pish!" said my Lord Deleroy with a shrug of his shoulders, "a lady who
is over-wrought and hangs to some common fellow, like one who kisses the
feet of a wooden saint that she thinks has saved her from calamity!"

At these words I, who had been listening like a man in a dream, awoke,
as it were, for they stung me. Moreover, I had heard that this fine
Deleroy was one of those who owed his place and rank to the King's
favour, as he did his high name, being, it was reported, by birth but a
prince's bastard sprung from some relative of Sir Robert whom therefore
he called cousin.

"Sir," I said, "you know best whether I am more common than you are.
Let that be. At least I hold in my hand the sword of one who begat my
forefather hundreds of years ago, a certain Thorgrimmer who was great in
his time. Now I have had my fill of fighting to-day, and you, doubtless
through no fault of your own, have had none; you also are clad in mail
and I, a common fellow, have none. Deign then to descend from that horse
and take a turn with me though I be tired, and thus prove my commonness
upon my body. Of your nobility do this, seeing that