"And how came your services to pass unrewarded and unrecognized?"
"Listen, courtier, and learn. When the old king was laid in his grave, I served his son as I had served himself; and how I fought at Burton and at Borough Bridge it would ill become my tongue to tell. But this cannot be gainsaid; it was my hand that struck down the rebel Clifford; and it was my hand that seized the rebel Lancaster. However, evil days came on apace; fate went against my king; and leal service could avail naught. At length, when all was over, and when, at Berkeley Castle, he was cruelly murdered, I crept hither to pass my days in peace; and I have since lived on, persuading myself that I cannot be altogether useless on earth, since it is God's pleasure that I survive the evil times I have seen."
"Evil days they were," said the cavalier, as he rose and paced the floor, evidently much agitated by memories which my grandsire's story had recalled.
I gazed with some surprise on the effect which had been produced; and my grandsire was in such perplexity, that he seemed quite relieved when the cavalier turned towards me and eyed me keenly.
"And this," said he, "is your grandson?"
"Yes," answered the old man; "my grandson, Arthur, whom I have taught to serve God and honour the king, and whom it lately pleased my lord the prince to commend, at Smithfield, for his brave looks and gallant bearing."
"A goodly youth, on my faith," said the cavalier; "and one who it seems to me, might acquit himself with honour in a higher sphere."
"His father was not of our rank," replied my grandsire. "But that is a long story, which it would pain me to tell, and you and him to hear."
"Another time, mayhap, I may hear it," said the cavalier, not without exhibiting some interest in what my grandsire had told him; "meanwhile," continued he, "it is time for me to ride towards Windsor, which I will do, if you will put me in the way. But, my friend," added he kindly, "fail not to visit me at the castle, and bring thither your grandson, and I will so requite your hospitality as to convince you that I am no churl."
"Come to Windsor," exclaimed my grandsire, "to be driven from the gate like a mangy cur! No, courtier; men shall never have it in their power to say that such was my fate."