“It was his—” Mabel tried to say, but Sigbert hushed her.
“Let be, let be, my sweet lady; it was but my bounden duty.”
“What’s that? Speak out what passes there,” demanded young Courtwood, half-jealously still.
“A mere English villein, little better than a valet of the camp!” were the exclamations around. “A noble damsel take note of him! Fie for shame!”
“He has been true and brave,” said the King. “Dost ask a guerdon for him, young sir?” he added to Walter.
“What wouldst have, old Sigbert?” asked Walter, in a patronising voice.
“I ask nothing, sir,” returned the old squire. “To have seen my lord’s children in safety is all I wish. I have but done my duty.”
King Fulk, who saw through the whole more clearly than some of those around, yet still had the true Angevin and Norman contempt for a Saxon, here said: “Old man, thou art trusty and shrewd, and mayst be useful. Wilt thou take service as one of my men-at-arms?”
“Thou mayst,” said Walter; “thou art not bound to me. England hath enough of Saxon churls without thee, and I shall purvey myself an esquire of youthful grace and noble blood.”
Mabel looked at her betrothed and began to speak.