‘“How came your beaters to shout threats against me?” said he.
‘“The tale has grown,” I answered. “One old witless man cried out, ‘’Ware Red William’s arrow,’ when the young knights shot at our line. We had two beaters hit.”
‘“I will do justice on that man,” he answered. “Who is his master?”
‘“He is Rahere’s man,” said I.
‘“Rahere’s?” said Henry. “Has my fool a fool?”
‘I heard the bells jingle at the back of the stand, and a red leg waved over it, then a black one. So, very slowly, Rahere the King’s Jester straddled the edge of the planks, and looked down on us, rubbing his chin. Loose-knit, with cropped hair, and a sad priest’s face, under his cockscomb cap, that he could twist like a strip of wet leather. His eyes were hollow-set.
‘“Nay, nay, Brother,” said he. “If I suffer you to keep your fool, you must e’en suffer me to keep mine.”
‘This he delivered slowly into the King’s angry face! My faith, a King’s Jester must be bolder than lions!
‘“Now we will judge the matter,” said Rahere. “Let these two brave knights go hang my fool because he warned King Henry against running after Saxon deer through woods full of Saxons. ‘Faith, Brother, if thy Brother, Red William, now among the Saints as we hope, had been timely warned against a certain arrow in New Forest, one fool of us four would not be crowned fool of England this morning. Therefore, hang the fool’s fool, knights!”
‘Mark the fool’s cunning! Rahere had himself given us order to hang the man. No king dare confirm a fool’s command to such a great baron as De Aquila; and the helpless King knew it.