It might be questioned whether Richard did not undergo more in watching little John de Mohun’s endeavours at waiting than he would have suffered from doing it himself. And not a few dissatisfied glances were levelled at the favoured stripling, besides the literally as well as figuratively sour glances of Dame Idonea.
Edward, being of course unable to betray his real grounds for acquitting Richard, had only deigned to inform Prince Edmund that he knew all, and was perfectly satisfied. Now Prince Edmund, as well as all the old court faction, deemed Edward’s regard for the Barons’ party an unreasonable weakness that they durst not indeed combat openly, but which angered them as a species of disaffection to his own cause. The outer world thought him a tyrant, but there was an inner world to whom he appeared weakly good-natured and generous; and this inner world thought Richard had successfully hoodwinked him!
Therefore Edmund of Lancaster desired to adopt Hamlyn de Valence as his own squire, to save him from association with Richard; and both prince and squire, and all the rest of the train, made it perfectly evident to the young Montfort that he was barely tolerated out of respect for the Prince.
But Richard in his joy could have borne worse than this, for the Prince had not relaxed in his kindness, and made his young cousin’s wound an excuse for showing him more tenderness and consideration than he would otherwise have thought befitting. Moreover, an esquire, as Richard had now become, might be in much closer relations of intimacy with his master than was possible to a page; and the day that had begun so sadly was like the dawn of a brighter period.
Sir Raynald Ferrers had been invited to the Prince’s pavilion, but the rules of his Order did not permit his joining a secular entertainment in Lent, and he did not admit either the camp life or the gravity of the Prince’s mourning household as a dispensation. However, when Richard, leaning fondly on little John’s ready shoulder, crossed to his own tent, he found his good friend waiting there to attend to his wound, which Sir Raynald professed to regard as an excellent subject to practise upon, and likewise to hear whether all had been cleared up, and had gone right with him.
“Though,” he said, “I could not doubt of it when that fair and lovely Princess had taken your matters in hand. Tell me, Richard, have you secular men many such dames as that abroad in the world?”
“Not many such as she,” said Richard, smiling.
“Well, I have not spoken to a female thing, save perhaps pretty Bessee, since I went into the Spital, ten years ago; and verily the sound of the lady’s voice was to me as if St. Margaret had begun talking to me! And so wise and clear of wit too. I thought women were feather-pated wilful beings, from whom there was no choice but to shut oneself up! I trow, that now all is well with thee, thou wilt scarce turn a thought again towards our brotherhood, where to glance at such a being becomes a sin.” And Raynald crossed himself, with an effort to recall his wonted asceticism.
“Ladies’ love is not like to be mine,” said Richard, laughing, as one not yet awake to the force of the motive. “No! Gladly would I be one of your noble brotherhood, where alone have I met with kindness—but, Sir Raynald, my first duty under Heaven must be to redeem my father’s name, by my service to the Prince. My brothers think they uphold it by deadly revenge. I want to show what a true Montfort can be with such a master as my father never had! And, Raynald, I cannot but fear that further schemes of vengeance may be afloat. The Prince is too fearless to take heed to himself, and who is so bound to watch for him as I?”