"I know not, Sire," replied Grey ****, "but perhaps straighter than most, for God, Who withheld all else from me, gave me this gift. At least, if I be not made drunk overnight, I'll match myself against any man at this Court, noble or ******, and stake twenty angels on it."
"Twenty angels! Have you so much, fellow?"
"Nay, Sire, nor more than one; but as I know I shall win, what does that matter?"
"Son," said the King, "see that this man is kept sober to-night, and to-morrow we will have a shooting match. But, sirrah, if you prove yourself to be a boaster you shall be whipped round the walls, for I love not tall words and small deeds. And now, young Master de Cressi, what is this message of yours?"
Hugh thrust his hand into his bosom, and produced a sealed packet which was addressed to "His Grace King Edward of England, sent from Andrew Arnold, priest, by the hand of Hugh de Cressi."
"Can you read?" the King asked of Hugh when he had spelt out this superscription.
"Ay, Sire; at least if the writing be that of Sir Andrew Arnold, for he was my master."
"A learned one and a brave, Hugh de Cressi. Well, break seal; we listen."
Hugh obeyed, and read as follows:
"Your Grace:
"Mayhap, Sire, you will remember me, Andrew Arnold, late master of the Templars in this town of Dunwich, in whose house, by your warrant for certain services rendered to your grandsire, your sire, and to yourself, I still dwell on as a priest ordained.
Sire, the bearer of this, Hugh de Cressi, my godchild, is the son of Geoffrey de Cressi, of this town, the great wool-merchant, with whom your Highness has had dealings----"
"In truth I have!" interrupted the King, with a laugh. "Also I think the account is still open--against myself. Well, it shall be paid some day, when I have conquered France. Forward!"
"Sire, this Hugh is enamoured of Eve Clavering, daughter of Sir John Clavering of Blythburgh, a cousin of his House, a very beauteous maiden, commonly known as Red Eve, and she in turn is enamoured of and betrothed to him----"
Here Queen Philippa suddenly became interested.
"Why is the lady called Red Eve, sir?" she asked in her soft voice.
"Because her cheeks are red?"
"No, Madam," answered Hugh, blushing; "because she always loves to wear red garments."
"Ah, then she is dark!"
"That is so, Madam; her eyes and hair are black as ash-buds."
"God's truth! Lady," interrupted King Edward, "is this young man's message of the colour of the eyes of his mistress, which, without doubt, being in love, he describes falsely? On with the letter!"
"Out of this matter," continued Hugh, "rose a feud yesterday, during which Hugh de Cressi killed his cousin John, fighting /? outrance/, and his servant, Richard the Archer, who accompanies him, commonly known as Grey ****, slew three men with as many arrows, two of them being Normans whose names are unknown to us, and the third a grieve to Sir John Clavering, called Thomas of Kessland. Also, he killed a horse, and when another Frenchman tried to grasp his master, sent a shaft through the palm of his hand."
"By St. George," said the King, "but here is shooting! Were they near to you, Grey ****?"
"Not so far away, Sire. Only the light was very bad, or I should have had the fourth. I aimed low, Sire, fearing to miss his skull, and he jerked up his horse's head to take the arrow."
"A good trick! I've played it myself. Well, let us have done with the letter, and then we'll come to archery."
"Sire," read on Hugh, "I ask your royal pardon to Hugh de Cressi and Richard the Archer for these slayings, believing that when you have read these letters it will be granted."
"That remains to be seen," muttered the King.
"Sire, Sir Edmund Acour, who has lands here in Suffolk, Count de Noyon in Normandy, and Seigneur of Cattrina in Italy----"
"I know the man," exclaimed Edward to the Queen, "and so do you. A handsome knight and a pleasant, but one of whom I have always misdoubted me."
"--Is also enamoured of Eve Clavering, and with her father's will seeks to make her his wife, though she hates him, and by the charter of Dunwich, of which she is a citizen, has the right to wed whom she will."
"It is well there are not many such charters. The old story--brave men done to death for the sake of a woman who is rightly named Red Eve," mused the King.
"My Liege, I pray that you will read the letter herein enclosed.
Hugh de Cressi will tell you how it came to my hand, since I lack time to write all the story. If it seems good to your Grace, I pray you scotch this snake while he is in your garden, lest he should live to sting you when you walk abroad. If it please you to give your royal warrant to the bearer of this letter, and to address the same to such of your subjects in Dunwich as you may think good, I doubt not but that men can be found to execute the same. Thus would a great and traitorous plot be brought to nothing, to your own glory and the discomfiture of your foes in France, who hope to lay their murderous hands upon the throne of England.
"Your humble servant and subject, "Andrew Arnold."
"What's this?" exclaimed the King starting from his seat. "To lay hands upon the throne of England! Quick with the other letter, man!"
"I was charged that it is for your Grace's eye alone," said Hugh as he unfolded the paper. "Is it your pleasure that I read it aloud, if I can, for it is writ in French?"
"Give it me," said the King. "Philippa, come help me with this crabbed stuff."
Then they withdrew to the side of the dais, and, standing under a lantern, spelled out Sir Edmund Acour's letter to the Duke of Normandy, word by word.
The King finished the letter, and, still holding it in his hand, stood for a minute silent. Then his rage broke out.
