"But not so great as his grandfather was," said the old man in a conclusive tone.
"Nevertheless, kinsman," observed Thomelin, as if anxious to change the subject, "you have come to see London town once more."
"Even so; and yet, God's truth! I might have gone to my long home without taking so much trouble; for what is London to me? But Arthur, hearing that the lads of the town were to try their skill at the quintain before the Prince of Wales, would come, reason or none."
"To see the display," suggested Thomelin.
"No, to try his own hand; and trust me, if I know anything of such matters—and I ought—his chance is not small."
"I doubt it not, kinsman—I doubt it not," said Thomelin; "and yet I know not how he is to get a chance; for the match is, in some measure, confined to the Londoners, and strangers may not be admitted."
"Tell that not to me," replied my grandsire conclusively, and striking the table with his clenched fist. "In my younger days I have seen not only the sons of yeomen, but squires' and knights' sons take part in such diversions; and if rules were relaxed then they can be relaxed now."
"Well, kinsman, we must see what can be done," said Thomelin mildly, but somewhat doubtfully. "Meanwhile, kinsmen, you must eat and drink, and let me show to you what hospitality my house can afford, for the sake of Richard Tythering, whose blood we both have in our veins."
"Ay; blood is thicker than water, as they say in the North," responded my grandsire; "and trust me, Thomelin," he added, "my heart warms to thee for thine own sake, and for that of thy mother; she was my first cousin."
"And so, Arthur, my lad," said Thomelin, turning to me, "thou art determined to win the peacock."