"Yes; my tongue is not smooth enough, and my manners do not suit her dainty notions. She's in a precious dudgeon just now over a Saxon wench I took a fancy to; and she's as flighty as a two-year-old filly, and as proud as Lucifer. In fact, she gets more stately and arrogant from day to day. Never mind!" said he, bringing his fist down upon the table. "I'll take her ladyship down a peg or two by-and-bye. I scarcely know whether I love or hate her most, now. She's got a pretty face and figure, or I'd as soon try steel upon her as wed her."
"Well, I must confess she's a very handsome wench, brother—not a finer in Britain; but I never see her without feeling that I would give something to humble her pride. You think the Count would be out of it if he knew how to get, do you?"
"Not a shadow of a doubt of it. He would murder me at a minute's notice, if he could get possession of those letters I told you about. But he knows you are fully informed about them, and of his treachery to William, and he dare not resort to violence until he knows how to secure the letters by his effort. I have come to the conclusion to hand them over to you; they will be safer than in my possession."
"They contain conclusive evidence of his treachery, don't they?"
"No mistake about that. They are in his own handwriting, and sealed with his own crest and coat-of-arms. They make offer upon certain considerations, to sell his influence and his men to the Saxons during William's absence. He was also fool enough to give me a written promise of his daughter's hand, in consideration of my fidelity to him. Nothing in the world could be clearer and straighter than the whole thing. He sees now pretty clearly that his game is up; but I'll show him that my game is not up, or likely to be, until he hands over his stately daughter."
"He must have greatly miscalculated the odds when he put his head into a noose like that."
"Yes; he's not played many false cards in his life, but that was one, and he will lose his head by it if he does not play up square with the remainder. I'll promise him that much at least."
"What cause had he to quarrel with the king?"
"Oh, jealousy. He prides himself upon the services he has rendered to William, and he expected in consequence to be high in the king's favour, and in his council. He expected to have some fat lands too, near to London. William, however, did not think so highly of his services, or else he had been prejudiced against him by some courtezan, which is more probable. Anyhow, no sooner was William firmly seated on the throne than he gave De Montfort the cold shoulder. He made Odo, Lanfranc, and Fitz-Osborne his chosen counsellors.
"Now, a mortal feud existed between Odo and De Montfort, and he quickly got the cold side of his master's favours. He had given to him a paltry estate in the Fen country, where he had that Saxon devil, Hereward, hanging on to his skirts, and foraging all over his possessions, whenever hunger drove him from his infernal den in the marshes. The slight which he received rankled, I can promise you; and when the insurrection broke out whilst William was in Normandy, and when the Saxons took York, and put to the sword the garrison of three thousand Normans, with the Danes swarming into the Humber ripe for plunder, and the Atheling trooping in from Scotland—why, the cunning of the wily one was at fault for once. He thought the thing would succeed; and succeed it would have done, sure enough, if it had not been levelled against that devil's own favourite, William. He sent me with letters to Waltheof and the others, offering to put his men into the field on condition that he received ample reward. He hoped no doubt, also, that he would get a little revenge upon his enemies at Court.