In very truth, here was not the little lad she had known. The grace of childhood was gone from Richard. Some of the mystery had gone out of his eyes, though they were yet, and would ever be, thoughtful; all of the shyness had gone out of his manner, albeit none of the courtesy. He was well used to being a king; he was already, at thirteen years of age or thereabout, the most of a gentleman in his very foppish and gentleman-like court. Calote had sat still in the window-seat that time he came to the crown by his grandfather's death, but to-day, before she knew wherefore, she was on her knees. Then only were her eyes opened, and she knew that this was the King.
He looked upon her friendly-wise, half-laughing. Kingship and comradeship were ever a-wrestle in Richard's heart to the end of the chapter. He liked to be a king, none better; he kept his state as never king kept it before in England,—as few have kept it since. But also, he loved to be loved, not from afar and awesomely as subjects love, but in the true human fashion that holds betwixt friends, betwixt kindly master and friendly servant.
Now, he put out his hand to Calote and lifted her up, and when they stood face to face, his eyes were a-level with hers, so big was he;—or haply she so small.
“I am grown tall; is 't not so?” he said. “Very soon I shall be tall as Etienne. No wonder thou didst not know me. But now, see thou tell me true wherefore thou art so suddenly come to Malvern, and I 'll forgive thy forgetting. Nay,—not on thy knees again.”
“Sire, hast thou forgot that I told thee—of a plot? And whether thou wouldst be King of all the people of England, or only puppet to the nobles?”
“I am not so good at forgetting as thou,” he made reply, and she could not but marvel to hear him so froward of speech. She was aware that this was no little child, but a boy that had listened, perforce, a year and more, to the counsels of grown men, some of them wise, all of them shrewd.
“This plot moveth on,” she continued, taking up her tale. “There is forming, and shall be formed, a great society of men over all England. I, and others, we go out across the land, one here, one there, north, south, east, and west, to bind the people into brotherhood. And it is my task to tell the people that the King is one of this brotherhood,—if so be 't is true.”—She paused, but Richard did not speak, so she went on: “It is my task to tell the people that the King approveth this gathering together of the people. And, when the time cometh, he will stand forth and be their leader,—against those that oppress them. If so be 't is true.”
“And the people want?”—
“Freedom, sire! Not to be a part of the land, like stocks and stones and dumb cattle. Not to be villeins any longer, but freed men, with leave to come and go of their own will.”
“But noblesse,—villeinage,—these are fixed,—may not be overthrown.”