“Yes, it is all true, is it not? It is in the Flores Sancti Francisci.”
The earl smiled.
“Come, my boy, I forgive thee.
“My good brother of Leicester, the lad is made for a Franciscan; don’t spoil a good friar by making him a warrior.”
“And Franciscan he shall be.
“Say, my boy, wouldst thou like to go to Oxford and study under my worthy friend, Adam de Maresco?”
Martin’s eyes sparkled with delight.
“Oh yes, my lord.
“Thank you, my Lord of Warwick.”
“Thy punishment shall then be exile from the castle; thou may’st cease from the sports of the tilt yard, which thou hast never loved, and Father Edmund shall take thee seriously in hand.”