“Nay, Your Majesty,” he said, bending his knee. “There be none present that can match them. Howbeit,”—he added dropping his voice—“I have heard of some who lie hid in Sherwood Forest who could show them strange targets.”
The Queen smiled and dismissed him.
“Come hither, my lord Bishop of Hereford,” quoth she, “would’st thou advance a sum to support my wager ‘gainst the King?”
“Nay, Your Majesty,” said the fat Bishop, “an you pardon me, I’d not lay down a penny on such a bet. For by my silver mitre, the King’s archers are men who have no peers.”
“But suppose I found men whom thou knewest to be masters at the bow,” she insisted roguishly, “would’st thou not back them? Belike, I have heard that there be men round about Nottingham and Plympton who carry such matters with a high hand!”
The Bishop glanced nervously around, as if half expecting to see Robin Hood’s men standing near; then turned to find the Queen looking at him with much amusement lurking in her eyes.
“Odds bodikins! The story of my misadventure must have preceded me!” he thought, ruefully. Aloud he said, resolved to face it out,
“Your Majesty, such tales are idle and exaggerated. An you pardon me, I would add to the King’s wager that his men are invincible.”
“As it pleases thee,” replied the Queen imperturbably. “How much?”
“Here is my purse,” said the Bishop uneasily. “It contains fifteen score nobles, or near a hundred pounds.”