“He were less puissant, Father.”
Wilfred did not reply for a minute, but devoted himself to hanging golden apples from the stiff boughs of his very medieval tree.
“The heroes of the world and those of the Church,” he said at last, “be rarely the same men. A man cannot be an hero in all things. The warrior is not the statesman, nor is neither of them the bishop. Thou must choose thy calling, lad.”
“Yet a true hero must be an hero all the world over, Father—in every calling.”
“How much hast heard of one Master Vegelius?”
“Never afore this minute.”
“I thought so much.”
“Who was he?” inquired Bertram.
“The best and most cunning limner of this or any land.”
“Oh! Only a scriptorius?”