Simon came back to them, and seizing him by one arm and Granmere by the other, Fulk bore them into the great hall and shouted in stentorian tones for sack and ale to be brought. Then he sank down into a chair, and puffed.
Granmere withdrew his hands from his ears.
“Cousin, I rejoice that the passing of years has not affected your lungs,” he said. “Methinks they could hear thy voice in London.”
“Ay, I can shout with the best of them,” Fulk answered complacently. His unwonted display of feeling over, he turned to Simon and addressed him more or less quietly.
“Well, didst thou see the King, my Simon?”
“Twice, my lord.”
“Well, well, I guessed as much! What of thy silly plot?”
Granmere answered him.
“A great deal. One Serle hath a buffoon coached to counterfeit King Richard in Scotland, and half the country would have risen for him, had it not been for Simon here.”
Fulk opened his little round eyes as wide as they would stretch.
“So, so! Tell me the whole tale from the very beginning, Simon, and see thou tellst it better than in thy letter. By Our Lady! My blood boils anew when I bethink me of that letter! Three or four bald words, and there was I a-fret to know the whole story! Well, go on, lad, go on!”
“There’s not much to tell,” Simon said. He took a long drink of sack. “I rode out one morning, as ye know, and came to Saltpetres in time for supper, where I chanced upon a fellow in the wood behind the inn and discovered that he bore treasonable papers, so—”
“Hark to the boy!” Fulk cried. “How didst chance on this fellow, numskull?”
Simon sighed.
“I was walking in the wood, sir, and heard a woman scream. I went to see what was toward and found this ruffian with her in his arms. So I came upon him unawares and flung him backwards from her.”
“Of what like was this woman?” demanded Fulk suspiciously.
Simon stared.
“Of what like, sir?”
“Ay! Was she dark or fair, comely or plain?”
“Faith, I know not, my lord. She—she was just a woman. Plain, I think.”
Fulk grunted.
“Go on!”
“The fellow came upon me and I closed with him. No, first I hit him, I think.”
“Where?”
“Over the ear. Then we wrestled awhile, and he broke away. Then a wallet fell from the bosom of his tunic, and for fear lest I should seize it, he came at me again. And when he found he could not throw me, he drew his dagger and rushed to stab me.”
“Cur!” roared Fulk. “Drew steel, eh? Dastardly cur! And what didst thou do?”
“I broke his arm,” Simon said simply.
“Well done, well done! What next?”
“Next I called Roger to me and we bound him. The rest is nothing.”
“Tell it!” Fulk ordered, and accordingly Simon recited the tale of his adventures up to his second interview with the King. Then, as he paused, Roger came into the hall, and on Fulk’s hailing him good-naturedly, doffed his cap, blushing.
“So thou hast brought Sir Simon safe home, eh?” Fulk said jovially.
Roger, already bursting with pride over his master’s new honour, and agog to tell the news to someone, answered primly: “My lord took no hurt, sir.”
Simon looked up frowning; Granmere smiled at the boy’s suppressed excitement; Fulk stared.
“What’s this? Who now art thou ‘my lording’?”
The boy drew himself up.
“My Lord of Beauvallet, sir.”
“Roger, get thee hence!” said Simon sharply. “Thy tongue runs away with thee.”
Roger retired, somewhat crestfallen.
“Lord of Beauvallet, Lord of Beauvallet! What means the boy?”
Granmere spoke.
“For his services the King made Simon Baron of Beauvallet, and gave him a land called Fair Pastures, which was once the estate of John of Barminster.”
“Simon!” Alan was out of his chair in a flash, catching his friend by the shoulders. “A lord? Thine own estate! Oh, Simon, I am so glad! Father, is’t not marvellous?”
Fulk collected himself with an effort. He rolled out a huge oath, which seemed slightly to relieve him. Then he started at Simon afresh.
“A lord! God’s my life, what next? John of Barminster’s estate? Christ’s Wounds, wert thou my page but three years since?”
“Ay. Else had I not now been lord, sir.”
“Come thou here!” Fulk commanded, and when Simon knelt before him, smote him on the shoulder, and embraced him again. “It is great news, lad, and I am glad for thy sake. But it means that I must lose thee, and I like it not.”
“I must have gone one day, my lord, and as it chances I go not far.”
“Ay, but who’s to take thy place here, my lion-cub?”
“Alan is of an age now, my lord.”
“Bah!” growled Fulk. “Alan to take thy place! As if he could do one tittle of what thou canst do!”
“He must,” Simon said.
“I hope I shall live to see the day! Simon, I shall miss thee sorely.”
“And I you, my lord. Yet I shall be but a few miles distant.”
“H’m!” Fulk let him go. “In what condition are thine estates?”
“In bad condition, my lord. There has been no master there since last July.”
“Good lack! Thou’lt have work enough even for thee!”
“So I think, my lord, but it is work I like.”
“Ay, ay. And thou shalt have as many men from here to help thee as thou askest of me. My Lord of Beauvallet, forsooth! Little did I think that thou’dst come to this, three years ago! And by the straight road, God wot! as thou didst say thou wouldst ever go! Ah, what an obstinate babe thou wert then! Charles, dost thou know that I have borne with this headstrong boy for three years?”
“I do wonder that ye are both alive,” Granmere replied.
“I’ll not deny he has enraged me a-many times, but can one fight a block of ice? Well, well, come ye in to supper! This is a glad and a sad day for me.” He heaved himself up, and leaning heavily on Simon’s shoulder,
