“My lord?” he rumbled.
“I regret the necessity which compels me to intrude on your land, my Lord of Montlice,” said Malvallet icily. “I desire to see my son, Sir Simon of Beauvallet.”
“To what purpose?” A red gleam appeared at the back of Fulk’s eyes, sure sign of danger.
“Your pardon—” Malvallet gazed back at him unflinchingly—“That is mine affair.”
“Nay it is mine, my lord. Simon of Beauvallet is in my service.”
A little pulse started to throb on Malvallet’s temple. Fulk regarded it, pleased.
“That is an error which I will rectify,” Malvallet said. Under the calm of his voice anger sounded.
“Will you so, my lord? And what if Simon wills otherwise?”
“Sir Simon is my son, sir.”
“Good lack, have ye but just discovered it?” Fulk jeered.
Malvallet bit his lip.
“Just, Lord Fulk.”
“Hey, hey! And he has squired me these three years!” Fulk said, and watched the barb go home.
“That would not have been had I known, my lord.”
Fulk gave a great laugh.
“Well, I suppose ye knew of the existence of a child, Lord Geoffrey. Methinks your efforts at paternal authority are a thought belated.”
Malvallet was silent for a moment, curbing his anger. Presently he looked up again.
“My lord, will ye have the goodness to summon my son?”
“To what avail?” Fulk asked politely. “Three years since he came to me of his own free will, in preference to you. I do not think he is like to change.”
Again Malvallet battled with himself. But his voice trembled a little with passion when he spoke.
“Nevertheless, my lord, I demand to have speech with him.”
“Demand, demand! And by what right do ye ‘demand’ in my domain, my lord?”
“I have told you. Simon is my son.”
“Simon is my servant,” Fulk retorted quickly. He saw Malvallet’s jaws clench.
“This bandying of words is useless!” Malvallet said. “We but waste time.”
“Why, so I think,” bowed Montlice. “I will e’en summon your horse.”
Malvallet tapped the table between them with his riding whip. He leaned forward, glaring at Fulk.
“Lord Fulk, I do not stir from this spot until I have seen Sir Simon!”
Then, ere Fulk could reply in kind, a deep, cold voice spoke from the doorway.
“Who is it desires speech with Simon of Beauvallet?” it said. “I am here.”
Malvallet swung round. Just within the hall stood Simon, a very giant of a man, regarding him fixedly from under lowering brows.
For a moment no one spoke. Then Malvallet strode forward.
“So thou art my son,” he said slowly.
“Am I?” Simon answered. “I have forgotten.”
With their eyes they measured one another. Malvallet spoke quietly.
“I come to offer thee the shelter of my roof, Simon.”
“I need it not, my lord.”
“A place at my table,” Malvallet insisted, “next thy brother, a place at my side as my acknowledged son.”
Simon’s lip curled, sneering.
“Oh, brave, my lord! Thy bastard son, forsooth!”
Malvallet flushed.
“I will make thee great in the land; ay, and I will give thee fair estates.”
“I need them not, my lord.”
Again there was a silence.
“Ye defy me, Simon? Ye have hate of me in your heart?”
“Nay.”
“Then return with me to Malvallet, and bear thine own name.”
“No name is mine save the one I have chosen.”
“An insult to me, that name!”
“Is it so, my lord?” He looked upward at Malvallet, without any feeling in his glance.
Malvallet stretched out his hands.
“Simon, to what avail, this coldness of thine? Am I not thy father?”
“So I am told,” Simon replied.
“Have I no right to thee? Has Montlice my right?”
“No man has a right to me, save it be the King. The law gives thee none. I am what I am.”
“Thou shalt be something more than what thou art.”
“I doubt it not.”
“Through my contriving.”
“Nay.”
“Simon,” Malvallet cried, “is there no blood-tie betwixt us?”
“It has never been thy pleasure to acknowledge it,” Simon answered coldly.
“I knew not of thine existence!”
Simon looked him over.
“Thou didst know that a child would be born to thee by Jehanne, my mother. Thou didst make no effort to provide for it, nor to discover even whether it were a boy or girl.”
Malvallet’s hands dropped to his sides.
“It is resentment then, that makes thee churlish now?”
“I feel none.”
“Then what moves thee to this coldness, Simon?”
Simon waited for a moment before replying.
“If I do seem cold to thee, my lord, it is not from hatred or soreness of spirit. Thou art a stranger to me. How should I bear thee affection who have never shown me any?”
Malvallet winced.
“All this will I make right betwixt us, my son. Let the past be buried, for indeed there is love in me now. Canst not forget the harm I have done thee by mine indifference?”
“Thou hast worked no harm on me. The past is naught, as shall be the present.”
“Simon, Simon, thou art unjust and cruel! Hadst thou come to me, three years ago, I would have taken thee to my bosom!”
The green-blue eyes narrowed.
“In me, my lord, is Malvallet blood. A Malvallet asks no favours. Hadst thou come to me three years ago, then indeed might things have been different. It was not then convenient to thee, or mayhap thou hadst forgotten that a baseborn child of thine was living. In those days I did fend for myself because it was not thy pleasure to seek me out. Now, when my need of help is dead, it has become thy pleasure. It is not mine.”
Malvallet heard him out in silence. He answered very low.
“Mayhap I do deserve thy scorn and thy hatred. But is thy hatred so great that it denies me the means to make amends?”
“I have told thee, my lord, that I feel no hatred for thee.”
“I had rather that than thine indifference!”
“If I cause thee pain, I do crave thy pardon. What else but indifference can I feel for one with whom I have never exchanged a word until today?”
Malvallet went nearer to him.
“Come with me now, Simon, and I will teach thee to care for me!
