Then they entered the chamber, led by the Prince. It was a fine place, with a vaulted stone roof and windows of coloured glass, that looked like the chancel of a church. Only at the head of it, where the altar should have been, was a kind of dais. On this dais were set some high-backed oaken chairs with many lanterns behind them in which burned tapers that, together with a great wood fire, gave light to the chamber.
In one of these chairs sat a gracious lady, who was embroidering something silken in a frame. This was Queen Philippa, and talking to her stood the tall King, clad in a velvet robe lined with fur. Behind, seated at a little table on which lay parchments, was a man in a priest’s robe, writing. There was no one else in the room.
Hugh and Dick advanced to the foot of the dais, and stood there bowing.
“Who are these?” asked the King of the Prince. “Oh, I remember, the man who overthrew Sir Ambrose and said he had a message!”
“Ay, Sire,” answered the Prince; “and this dust-coloured fellow is his servant, who will not part with his bow, which he calls his wife and says he sleeps with.”
“I would all Englishmen did the same,” broke in the King. “Say, man, can you shoot straight?”
“I know not, Sire,” replied Grey Dick, “but perhaps straighter than most, for God, Who withheld all else from me, gave me this gift. At least, if I be not made drunk overnight, I’ll match myself against any man at this Court, noble or simple, and stake twenty angels on it.”
“Twenty angels! Have you so much, fellow?”
“Nay, Sire, nor more than one; but as I know I shall win, what does that matter?”
“Son,” said the King, “see that this man is kept sober to-night, and to-morrow we will have a shooting match. But, sirrah, if you prove yourself to be a boaster you shall be whipped round the walls, for I love not tall words and small deeds. And now, young Master de Cressi, what is this message of yours?”