But it was not thanks which Nigel was trying to utter. It was hard to frame his words, and yet they must be said.
“Sire,” he murmured, “it ill becomes me to cross your royal will—”
The dark Plantagenet wrath gathered upon the king’s high brow and gloomed in his fierce, deep-set eyes.
“By God’s dignity! no man has ever crossed it yet and lived unscathed. How now, young sir, what mean such words, to which we are little wont? Have a care, for this is no light thing which you venture.”
“Sire,” said Nigel, “in all matters in which I am a free man I am ever your faithful liege, but some things there are which may not be done.”
“How?” cried the king. “In spite of my will?”
“In spite of your will, sire,” said Nigel, sitting up on his couch, with white face and blazing eyes.
“By the Virgin!” the angry king thundered, “we are come to a pretty pass! You have been held too long at home, young man. The overstabled horse will kick. The unweathered hawk will fly at check. See to it, Master Chandos! He is thine to break, and I hold you to it that you break him. And what is it that Edward of England may not do, Master Loring?”
Nigel faced the king with a face as grim as his own. “You may not put to death the Red Ferret.”
“Pardieu! And why?”
“Because he is not thine to slay, sire. Because he is mine. Because I promised him his life, and it is not for you, king though you be, to constrain a man of gentle blood to break his plighted word and lose his honour.”
Chandos laid his soothing hand upon his squire’s shoulder. “Excuse him, sire; he is weak from his wounds,” said he. “Perhaps we have stayed overlong, for the leech has ordered repose.”
But the angry king was not easily to be appeased. “I am not wont to be so browbeat,” said he hotly. “This is your squire, Master John. How comes it that you can stand there and listen to his pert talk, and say no word to chide him? Is this how you guide your household? Have you not taught him that every promise given is subject to the king’s consent, and that with him only lie the springs of life and death? If he is sick, you at least are hale. Why stand you there in silence?”
“My liege,” said Chandos gravely, “I have served you for over a score of years, and have shed my blood through as many wounds in your cause, so that you should not take my words amiss. But indeed I should feel myself to be no true man if I did not tell you that my Squire Nigel, though perchance he has spoken more bluntly than becomes him, is none the less right in this matter, and that you are wrong. For bethink you, sire—”
“Enough!” cried the king, more furious than ever. “Like master, like man, and I might have known why it is that this saucy squire dares to bandy words with his sovereign lord. He does but give out what he hath taken in. John, John, you grow overbold. But this I tell you, and you also, young man, that as God is my help, ere the sun has set this night the Red Ferret will hang as a warning to all spies and traitors from the highest tower of Calais, that every ship upon the Narrow Seas, and every man for ten miles round may see him as he swings and know how heavy is the hand of the English king. Do you bear it in mind, lest you also may feel its weight!” With a glare like an angry lion he walked from the room, and the iron-clamped door clanged loudly behind him.
Chandos and Nigel looked ruefully at each other. Then the knight patted his squire upon his bandaged head.
“You have carried yourself right well, Nigel. I could not wish for better. Fear not. All will be well.”
“My fair and honoured lord,” cried Nigel, “I am heavy at heart, for indeed I could do no other, and yet I have brought trouble upon you.”
“Nay, the clouds will soon pass. If he does indeed slay this Frenchman, you have done all that lay within your power, and your mind may rest easy.”
“I pray that it will rest easy in Paradise,” said Nigel; “for at the hour that I hear that I am dishonoured and my prisoner slain I tear this bandage from my head and so end all things. I will not live when once my word is broken.”
“Nay, fair son, you take this thing too heavily,” said Chandos, with a grave face. “When a man has done all he may there remains no dishonour; but the king hath a kind heart for all his hot head, and it may be that if I see him I will prevail upon him. Bethink you how he swore to hang the six burghers of this very town, and yet he pardoned them. So keep a high heart, fair son, and I will come with good news ere evening.”
For three hours, as the sinking sun traced the shadow higher and ever higher upon the chamber wall, Nigel tossed feverishly upon his couch, his ears straining for the footfall of Aylward or of Chandos, bringing news of the fate of the prisoner. At last the door flew open, and there before him stood the one man whom he least expected, and yet would most gladly have seen. It was the Red Ferret himself, free and joyous.
With swift furtive steps he was across the room and on his knees beside the couch, kissing
