"Oh, that we might take the lads with us," cried Ralph. "I will follow Lord Clinton and seek his permission," he added.
"That you may not do," said Geoffrey firmly; "do you not remember that you are not to leave the tent alone? If you go we must accompany you.
"But stay; is there not a better way? If Lord Clinton consent, the three lads can ride on our horses, though they are somewhat sorry nags; we will lay the matter before him when he returns at eight o'clock. Meanwhile, they can help us furbish our weapons and prepare our travelling packs, they can feed the horses and have them ready to set forth, we need not tell them more than is necessary, that we have to ride forth on the King's business to-night will suffice."
So it was decided.
The lads occupied an adjoining tent; they were at this moment awaiting their masters' summons to prepare their simple evening meal. They were called in, and speedily all things were proceeding according to Geoffrey's suggestions.
The shades of night were deepening as they sat down to supper, it was a quarter to eight o'clock. The camp fires were being lit, and the soldiers of the English contingent were gathering around them in merry groups.
It was eight o'clock and the young Englishmen had supped, all their preparations were complete.
The flap of the tent lifted silently, and two cloaked figures entered, their features hidden in the folds of their outer garments. These they now cast aside, and by the dim light which illumined the tent the "aides" recognized Lord Clinton, and with him the King!
Instantly the young men knelt on one knee before him and kissed his hand.
Philip gazed intently upon their countenances: he knew them fairly well, but it seemed as if he wished to reassure himself. Then in a low, cold, but distinct voice he said to Lord Clinton—