But when Oliver joked him about his failure, Felix asked him to hang up his breastplate at two hundred yards. He did so, and in an instant a shaft was sent through it. After that Oliver held his peace, and in his heart began to think that the bow was a dangerous weapon.
“So you are late again this morning,” said Oliver, leaning against the recess of the window, and placing his arms on it. The sunshine fell on his curly dark hair, still wet from the river. “Studying last night, I suppose?” turning over the parchment. “Why didn’t you ride into town with me?”
“The water must have been cold this morning?” said Felix, ignoring the question.
“Yes; there was a slight frost, or something like it, very early, and a mist on the surface; but it was splendid in the pool. Why don’t you get up and come? You used to.”
“I can swim,” said Felix laconically, implying that, having learnt the art, it no more tempted him. “You were late last night. I heard you put Night in.”
“We came home in style; it was rather dusky, but Night galloped the Green Miles.”
“Mind she doesn’t put her hoof in a rabbit’s hole, some night.”
“Not that. She can see like a cat. I believe we got over the twelve miles in less than an hour. Sharp work, considering the hills. You don’t inquire for the news.”
“What’s the news to me?”
“Well, there was a quarrel at the palace yesterday afternoon. The Prince told Louis he was a double-faced traitor, and Louis told the Prince he was a suspicious fool. It nearly came to blows, and Louis is banished.”
“For the fiftieth time.”
“This time it is more serious.”
“Don’t believe it. He will be sent for again this morning; cannot you see why?”
“No.”
“If the Prince is really suspicious, he will never send his brother into the country, where he might be resorted to by discontented people. He will keep him close at hand.”
“I wish the quarrelling would cease; it spoils half the fun; one’s obliged to creep about the court and speak in whispers, and you can’t tell whom you are talking to; they may turn on you if you say too much. There is no dancing either. I hate this moody state. I wish they would either dance or fight.”
“Fight! who?”
“Anybody. There’s some more news, but you don’t care.”
“No. I do not.”
“Why don’t you go and live in the woods all by yourself?” said Oliver, in some heat.
Felix laughed.
“Tell me your news. I am listening.”
“The Irish landed at Blacklands the day before yesterday, and burnt Robert’s place; they tried Letburn, but the people there had been warned, and were ready. And there’s an envoy from Sypolis arrived; some think the Assembly has broken up; they were all at daggers drawn. So much for the Holy League.”
“So much for the Holy League,” repeated Felix.
“What are you going to do today?” asked Oliver, after awhile.
“I am going down to my canoe,” said Felix.
“I will go with you; the trout are rising. Have you got any hooks?”
“There’s some in the box there, I think; take the tools out.”
Oliver searched among the tools in the open box, all rusty and covered with dust, while Felix finished dressing, put away his parchment, and knotted the thong round his chest. He found some hooks at the bottom, and after breakfast they walked out together, Oliver carrying his rod, and a boar-spear, and Felix a boar-spear also, in addition to a small flag basket with some chisels and gouges.
III
The Stockade
When Oliver and Felix started, they left Philip, the third and youngest of the three brothers, still at breakfast. They turned to the left, on getting out of doors, and again to the left, through the covered passage between the steward’s store and the kitchen. Then crossing the wagon yard, they paused a moment to glance in at the forge, where two men were repairing part of a plough.
Oliver must also look for a moment at his mare, after which they directed their steps to the South Gate. The massive oaken door was open, the bolts having been drawn back at hornblow. There was a guardroom on one side of the gate under the platform in the corner, where there was always supposed to be a watch.
But in times of peace, and when there were no apprehensions of attack, the men whose turn it was to watch there were often called away for a time to assist in some labour going forward, and at that moment were helping to move the woolpacks farther into the warehouse. Still they were close at hand, and had the day watchman or warder, who was now on the roof, blown his horn, would have rushed direct to the gate. Felix did not like this relaxation of discipline. His precise ideas were upset at the absence of the guard; method, organization, and precision, were the characteristics of his mind, and this kind of uncertainty irritated him.
“I wish Sir Constans would insist on the guard being kept,” he remarked. Children, in speaking of their parents, invariably gave them their titles. Now their father’s title was properly “my lord,” as he was a baron, and one of the most ancient. But he had so long abnegated the exercise of his rights and privileges, sinking the noble in the mechanician, that men had forgotten the proper style in which they should address him. “Sir” was applied to all nobles, whether they possessed estates or not. The brothers were invariably addressed as Sir Felix or Sir Oliver. It marked, therefore, the low estimation in which the Baron was held when even his own sons spoke of him
