Walter of Santoy cast a laughing glance at Gountray.
“This place will soon be overrun with pages,” he remarked. “Surely I did see three more than when we left Beauvallet?”
“Ay,” Gountray replied. “My lord had given orders they were to be enrolled. One falls over them at every step, but it is my lord’s pleasure. And since my lord did strike Patrick of Kildare senseless for beating little Edmund, two days before he set out on his travels, never have children been more indulged in this land! As for mine own son, he is grown so defiant and mischievous that only my lord can check him.”
“Things have come to a pretty pass,” the steward sighed, for he was weak with children and they plagued him unmercifully.
“Pretty indeed,” Bernard said softly. “Methinks it is a sweet thing to see the iron lord with these babes about him like flies around a honey-jar.”
“They are very importunate,” Roger complained. “They cluster about my lord so that there is naught for us poor squires to do. And he will not say them nay. And—and when I did push Donald so that he fell—I meant not that he should, but I was angered—he would not have me near him for three whole days! So that Malcolm waited upon him!” At the thought of this past injury his eyes flashed, and he withdrew to dwell upon it darkly.
After supper, Maurice of Gountray came to Simon’s room to render an account of his stewardship. Simon listened intently to all that he said, and read over the accounts. Maurice spoke hesitantly, anxious lest he should have failed to satisfy his lord. Just at the end of his recital he looked at Simon almost shyly.
“There—there is one other matter, my lord, in which ye may perhaps think I have exceeded my duty. In your absence I—I did what seemed best to me.” He paused, unaccountably nervous before this man who was full fifteen years his junior. Simon said nothing so Maurice continued, squaring his shoulders: “I did discover three lewd fellows, sir, among your guard, who were friends of Nicholas. They were set upon stirring the men to rebellion in your absence, the which Basil reported to me. So I did summon them to—to judgment, sir, and Edwin of Palmer, whom I saw to be the leader, I banished in your name. The other two I did punish—and they are quiet now.” He looked up again, diffident, and in his eyes was a look of fidelity such as is seen in the eyes of a dog.
“Thou hast done well,” Simon said. “In all things thou hast acted as I should have acted had I been here.”
At the sound of that cool voice, Gountray sat straighter in his chair, and one or two worried lines upon his brow were smoothed away.
“If—if I have pleased you, sir, I—can be easier in mine own mind.”
“I am pleased, but it is no less than I expected.”
“My lord—I have but one ambition in life, and that is to merit your trust, so that I may—in time—wipe out the black memory of what I—sought to do to you.”
Simon brought his fist down upon the table between them.
“A year ago I said three words to thee, Maurice of Gountray: ‘I have forgotten.’ ”
“Ye have not yet said: ‘I have—forgiven,’ my lord,” Gountray answered low.
“Then I say it now. I have forgiven. Though why thou shouldst want forgiveness from any man, I know not. The past is dead.”
“My lord, I—I thank you! And for all that you have done for me, upholding mine authority, and permitting my son to tease you, I thank you.”
“Thank me not for pleasing myself,” Simon answered. He rose, and Maurice with him, and as Gountray would have left the room, he spoke again, more lightly. “Thou wilt think me careless, Maurice. Before I went to supper I walked out to cast a look on my lands, and Cedric followed me. He ran a sharp thorn into his hands, and it bled grievously before he showed me what had happened.” Then as Maurice looked rather anxious. “I pulled the thorn out and bound his hand. I think it will be well tomorrow.”
“Sir, it is kind indeed of you to take such pains with Cedric! I will go look to him.” His hand was on the latch of the door when Simon spoke again.
“I could not but hurt him, but he shed not one tear.”
He rode to Malvallet a week later, and was royally entertained by his father. When he had gone again, Malvallet turned to his son Geoffrey who still remained at home.
“Geoffrey, I do love that boy,” he said abruptly.
“And I, sir.”
Malvallet spoke bitterly.
“I shall never be more to him than a friend.”
Geoffrey said nothing to that, and there fell a silence. Then he looked across at his father, smiling.
“Thou wouldst have liked to see him when he took Owen’s son prisoner, sir. On my word, he was there, there and everywhere, vying with the Prince himself in spurring our men onward. Then he came upon Griffith in one part of the field, and engaged him to single combat. Methought they never would have done, for Griffith is no weakling, sir, and he tilted and hacked at Simon until my heart was in my mouth. But Simon is untiring, and at last Griffith’s arm sank, and he yielded himself prisoner. Simon haled him to the Prince, and demanded naught from him but his armour, a curious set, gilded over, and so delicately fashioned that when on it hath scarcely any weight at all. And when next we fought, he wore that armour so
