“No, no; pray you not so fast,” he entreated. “I am a good King’s man.”
Brilliana condescended approval.
“He amends his plea,” she noted to Halfman. Master Paul went on, fractiously,
“But that does not make me love to be plundered.”
Brilliana rose and, resting the tips of her fingers on the table, addressed Master Hungerford sternly.
“Master Hungerford, one of two things. Either you are a Roundhead, in which case you have no rights in loyal, royal Oxfordshire—say I not well, Sir Blaise?”
“Marvellous well,” Sir Blaise assented.
“Ergo,” Brilliana continued, “having no rights you have no goods, having no goods you cannot be plundered.”
“Yet I was plundered,” Master Paul protested. Brilliana exorcised the plea.