"Ay, boy," said he, smiling grimly, "you now see I understand better than you how to get fame and fortune."
"God's truth!" exclaimed I, "after what has passed I should be a dolt to dispute it. But all men have their peculiar gifts; and I opine that it is only a man born and bred in the north who could have planned such an achievement, and carried it out so shrewdly."
"Well spoken, my brave youth," said Copeland; "and I believe you likewise have gifts that might make a man of you, if you went the right way about it; but trust me that all your fine dreams of chivalry and ambition to perform fine feats of arms will not easily get you five hundred a-year in land, and a pension of a hundred a-year out of the customs of Berwick."
"Perhaps, not; but my dreams, as you call them, may result in something better—in my name being recorded by chroniclers, and celebrated by minstrels."
The Northumbrian squire laughed loud at what he deemed my fantastic notions, and laid his hand on my arm.
"Hark ye, boy," said he, looking in my face. "I know something of mankind, and I venture to predict of you, that—young and foolish as you are—you will live and learn how to climb the tree, so as ever, when you fall, to fall as a cat does—that is, on your feet; so that I have faith in your future."
"Many thanks for your compliment," said I, half scornfully.
"But listen," continued Copeland kindly. "When this siege is over, and you tire of idling at Windsor or Eltham, and sigh for strife and real warfare, come north to my castle on the Blythe; and, if you meet not with dainty chivalry, you will meet with a hearty welcome, and enemies who will give you work to do, when we mount our steeds, and ride forth together to couch our spears against the Scot."
"Many thanks for your courtesy," replied I, as he shook my hand ere parting; "and, if I avail myself of your offer, I trust you will not fail to put me in the way of making my fortune by capturing a king."