"We see not what is the nature of thy request. To us it savours of a service most loyally rendered," replied the King. "Say on—what boon dost thou ask?"
"That I may be permitted to lead them in battle, sire."
"Thy request is most reasonable, young sir. Since——"
"I crave your Majesty's hearing for a few brief moments," exclaimed the Bishop of Norwich in deep, measured tones. "It hath come to my knowledge that this fellow was formerly a monk of the Charterhouse, and hath broken his vows of charity, obedience, and constancy to the Order."
"What hast thou to say to this accusation, young sir?"
"'Tis indeed true, sire," replied Olandyne brokenly. "Yet the desire for a soldier's life overcame the choice made for me of service within the walls of an abbey. In sooth, sire, I could not keep the vows that were forced upon me. I——"
"Enough, young sir," thundered Henry, his eyes blazing sternly at the trembling form of the ex-monk, while the Duke of Exeter whispered something in the ear of his royal nephew.
"Nay, Uncle Exeter, we are not ashamed to speak our mind, nor are we willing to offend Holy Mother Church. Therefore, Master Olandyne, thy services are not required. Thou canst withdraw from our presence, disgraced, but free from any fear of apprehension and punishment."
Louting low to his Sovereign, Olandyne backed slowly from the daïs, his face ashen with mortification, confusion, and anger. Nor were there few of the assembled company who had compassion for the luckless man whose proffered service had been so curtly declined and whose visions of martial prowess were so rudely dispelled.
"Ah, our trusted and much beloved Sir John Carberry," exclaimed the King heartily as the Constable of Portchester advanced to the daïs, followed by the three squires. "Well, Sir John, how fares it with thee?"