"Hold, Sir Knight," interrupted the King sharply. "We asked thee a plain question, to be answered by 'Yea' or 'Nay,' not by suggestions."
"And thou, Sir John," continued Edward, addressing the Constable. "Hast thou aught to add in favour of thy squire, beyond what thou didst tell us but a short time back?"
"Nothing more, sire."
"'Tis well. And now, squire, we have carefully considered thy case, and we are favourably disposed towards thee." Then, turning to his barons, he added, with a sly reference to the growing power of Parliament, "We take it, fair lords, that we shall not offend our faithful commoners assembled at Westminster by assuming a right to revoke a decree of outlawry?"
A low murmur of assent was the reply.
"Then, Raymond Revyngton, we hereby pardon thee for an offence that thou hast not committed—to wit, thou art no longer the son of an outlaw. Sir William de Saye, our scrivener, will draw up the deed of revocation, and a copy for the Lord Bishop of Winchester. Art content?"
"Sire, I thank thee," replied Raymond, bending low before his sovereign.
"There is yet another matter. Of thy valour there has been no question. We have in mind the affair with the Count of Tancarville, and, going farther back, thy journey to Hennebon. But more especially thy conduct in yesterday's fight, when our dear son, the Prince of Wales, was succoured by thine aid. We have a mind to inspect thy cloven shield, which, we do perceive, thou hast brought in case our memory were in need of a reminder."
The squire, still kneeling, handed his buckler to an attendant, who in turn presented it to the King.
"A lusty stroke," commented Edward, carefully examining the clean cut in the metal plate. "Our cousin of France hath men of sinew who in open fight would be worthy and gallant opponents. Had their peasants been as good bowmen as our gallant archers but few of us would be here. Squire," he added, "arise and hand over thy sword."