"As little did I expect the honour of meeting you, having heard that you had received an unfortunate wound."
"Ah! a scratch, as your lordship heard me tell the king," replied Roland, colouring with indignation; but the face of Redhall was impassible as that of a statue.
"Courtiers must expect such scratches at times."
"Under favour, my lord, I am no courtier."
"No, excuse me—better than a thousand courtiers—thou art a brave soldier."
Roland bowed.
"He flatters me for some end," thought he. There was a mixture of politeness and disdain in the manner of Redhall that was fast provoking Roland, for they had never spoken before, save once, more than a year ago, on the king's service. "Can this really be the villain who attempted to slay me," he reflected, "or hath the hostility of Ashkirk led his ears into error? I think not; for, strange to say, my wound smarted the moment he addressed me. Doubtless, had I been dead, it would have bled at his touch."
"You know, Sir Roland, 'tis my peculiar province to have the laws enforced. Have you any suspicions of who your assailant was?"
"Yes, the instigator of the assault is here to-night—yea, in this very hall!"
"His name?"