“Sire?” said both by-standers, in astonishment.
“I would fain see that woman, and see her husband too. They are folks after my own heart. I would give them an earldom to win them.”
“I hope that in that day you will allow your faithful servant Ivo to retire to his ancestral manors in Anjou; for England will be too hot for him. Sire, you know not this man,—a liar, a bully, a robber, a swash-buckling ruffian, who—” and Ivo ran on with furious invective, after the fashion of the Normans, who considered no name too bad for an English rebel.
“Sir Ascelin,” said William, as Ascelin came in, “you know Hereward?”
Ascelin bowed assent.
“Are these things true which Ivo alleges?”
“The Lord Taillebois may know best what manner of man he is since he came into this English air, which changes some folks mightily,” with a hardly disguised sneer at Ivo; “but in Flanders he was a very perfect knight, beloved and honored of all men, and especially of your father-in-law, the great marquis.”
“He is a friend of yours, then?”
“No man less. I owe him more than one grudge, though all in fair quarrel; and one, at least, which can only be wiped out in blood.”
“Eh! What?”