'"Jest? I?" said De Aquila. "I am but fighting for life and lands with a pen, as thou hast shown me, Fulke."
'Then Fulke groaned, for he was cold, and, "Let me confess," said he.
'"Now, this is right neighbourly," said De Aquila, leaning over the shaft. "Thou hast read my sayings and doings—or at least the first part of them—and thou art minded to repay me with thy own doings and sayings. Take pen and inkhorn, Gilbert. Here is work that will not irk thee."
'"Let my men go without hurt, and I will confess my treason against the King," said Fulke.
'"Now, why has he grown so tender of his men of a sudden?" said Hugh to me; for Fulke had no name for mercy to his men. Plunder he gave them, but pity, none.
'"Té! Té!" said De Aquila. "Thy treason was all confessed long ago by Gilbert. It would be enough to hang Montgomery himself."
'"Nay; but spare my men," said Fulke; and we heard him splash like a fish in a pond, for the tide was rising.
'"All in good time," said De Aquila. "The night is young; the wine is old; and we need only the merry tale. Begin the story of thy life since when thou wast a lad at Tours. Tell it nimbly!"
'"Ye shame me to my soul," said Fulke.
'"Then I have done what neither King nor Duke could do," said De Aquila. "But begin, and forget nothing."