Therewith the knight left them to stand in front of the castle gates and made his own way back to the house.
"He is an ill bred knave," said Allan hotly. "To think that such as he holds knighthood."
"Knighthood," said the ex-kitchen boy, "is merely a cloak. And I find, Allan, that it is a garment that is only seemly when he who dons it wears it well. Yet this is no time for anger. Of what matter that this knight is ill bred. If there is any quarrel I shall seek it with his master."
"Think you that they know of his whereabouts?" asked Allan. "I liked not the manner in which he made answer."
"Nor I. But I doubt not we shall know more surely within the next few moments."
Nor did the two have long to wait. For there came from the castle another who seemed to be the high lord. In armor and shield, carrying lance and riding a great black horse, he stood out from among the knights who followed him.
When he came to the gates they were opened wide for him. Then as he saw Sir Gareth and the boy, he made them a sweeping courtesy.
"Forgive our boorishness, Sir Gareth. Pray to enter our humble lodging. Are you then Prince of Orkney?"
"I am so known," replied the young knight. "Yet I seek to be known as Gareth, Knight of the Round Table. I know not your name, Sir Knight, but I find your courtesy welcome."
But now Allan had noted how the knight's manner had changed. No longer did he seem kindly; instead a dark scowl frowned his face.