“Nay, in truth, thou art of an age for something more stirring,” replied Sir Patrick; “a youth of thine years should have to do with gay steeds, and armour, and ’tendance upon knights.”
“Such are, indeed, the toys that my heart doth most pant for,” replied the boy; “and such is mine excuse for quitting home. I sigh for the gay sight of glittering tourneys, and pageants of arms, and would fain learn the noble trade of chivalry.”
“If thou hast no scruple to serve a Scottish Knight,” replied Sir Patrick, “that is, so long as until the outbreak of war may call on thee to appear beneath the standard of thy native England, I shall willingly give thee a place among my followers; and, by St. Genevieve, thou dost come to me in a good time, too, as to feats of arms, being that I am now on my way to the [[173]]grand tournament to be held on the Mead of St. John’s. So, wilt thou yede with me thither, my young Courfine?” The boy made no reply, but hung his head, and looked abashed for some moments. “Ha! what sayest thou?” continued the knight; “wilt thou wend with me, or no? Thine answer speedily, yea or nay, young man, for I must be gone.”
“Yea, most joyfully will I be of thy company, Sir Knight,” replied the boy, his eyes glistening with delight; “and while peace may endure between our countries, I will be thy true and faithful page, were it unto the death.”
“’Tis well, youth,” replied Sir Patrick; “but thou hast, as yet, forgotten to possess me of thy name and parentage.”
“My name, Sir Knight,” replied the boy, with some confusion and hesitation—“my name is Maurice de Grey—my father, Sir Hargrave de Grey, is Captain of the Border Castle of Werk—and the gallant old Sir Walter de Selby, Captain of the other Border strength of Norham, is mine uncle.”
“Ha! is it so?” exclaimed Hepborne, with great surprise and considerable agitation—“Then thou art cousin to the La——? then thou art nevoy to Sir Walter de Selby, art thou? Nay, now I do look at thee again, thou hast, methinks, a certain cast of the features of his family. Perdie, he is a most honourable sib to thee. Of a truth thou art come of a good kindred, and if thou wilt be advised by me, sweet youth, thou wilt straightway hie thee back again to thine afflicted mother, doubtless ere this grievously bywoxen with sorrow for loss of thee.”
“Nay, good Sir Knight, I dare not now adventure to return,” replied the boy; “and sith thou hast told me of that tourney, verily thou hast so much enhanced my desire to go with thee, that nothing but thy refusal of what thou hast vouchsafed to promise me shall now hinder me.”
“Had I earlier known of whom thou art come, youth,” replied Sir Patrick gravely, “I had been less rash in persuading thee with me, or in ’gaging my promise to take thee; but sith that my word hath already passed, it shall assuredly be kept; nor shall thy father or mother have cause to regret that thou hast thus chanced to fall into my hands. Come, then, let us have no more words, but do thou dismiss thy rustic guide, and follow me without more ado.”
The youth bowed obedience, and taking the peasant aside, gave him the reward which his services had merited, and, after talking with him for some little time, sent him away, and prepared to follow his new master. Meanwhile, Sir Patrick called [[174]]Mortimer Sang, and gave him strict charges to care for the boy.