Constance desired Maude to hasten the girls in dressing, which must be done by the fitful moonlight, as best it could, and went herself into the inner chamber. Both the boys were asleep. They were Edmund, the young Earl, whose age was nearly thirteen, and his little brother Roger, who was not yet eight. Constance laid her hand lightly on the shoulder of the future King.
“Nym!” she said. “Hush! make no bruit.”
The boy was sleeping too heavily to be roused at once; but his little brother Roger awoke, and looked up with two very bright, intelligent eyes.
“Are we to be killed?” he wanted to know; but his query was not put in the frightened tone of his sister.
“Not so, little one. Wake thy brother, and rise quickly.”
“’Tis no light gear to wake Nym,” said little Roger. “You must shake him.”
Constance put the advice in practice, but Edmund only gave a grunt and turned over.
“Nym!” said his little brother in a loud whisper. “Nym! wake up.”
Edmund growled an inarticulate request to be “let be.”
“Then you must pinch him,” said little Roger. “Nip him well—be not afeard.”