Whereupon Henry the First favoured the court with a fascinating leer, which left no doubt on any one’s mind that he had been falsely accused.
So two more lies were set down against me; and the Black Prince called over the next.
“‘Stephen usurped the throne on Henry’s death.’”
“Quite right, quite right,” said Matilda; “perfectly correct.”
“‘Matilda, after a civil war, in which her bad temper made her many enemies—’”
“Oh you story!” exclaimed the empress. “Oh! you wicked young man!”
“Address the judge, please,” said Henry the Eighth.
“Oh, you wicked young man,” repeated the empress, turning to the bench; “I’d like to scratch you, I would!”
“Don’t do that,” said Henry: “I get quite enough of that at home, I assure you. Anyhow, Nigger can chalk it down a lie for you, eh?”
“And one for me, too, please,” said Stephen. “How can a fellow usurp what belongs to him?”