His hand was unsteady and his aim uncertain that day, yet Brithric's voice was louder than ever in praising the skill of the Atheling. The rest of the royal wards took their cue from the bold flatterer, and addressed to the prince the most extravagant compliments every time his arrow came near the mark, which they all purposely abstained from hitting.
At that moment the pale, sorrowful Wilfrid crossed the ground; but, wishing to escape the attention of the joyous group, he kept at a distance. The prince, however, observed him, and willing to obliterate the remembrance of his late unkindness, called to him in a lively voice: "Come hither, Wilfrid," said he, "and tell me if you think you could send an arrow nearer to yonder mark than I have done."
"Certainly," replied Wilfrid, "or I should prove myself but a bad archer."
The group of youthful flatterers, who surrounded the heir of the throne, smiled contemptuously at the unguarded sincerity of the page in speaking the truth thus openly and plainly to his lord.
"Wilfrid, if we may believe his own testimony, is not only wiser and better than any of the servants of the Atheling," said Brithric scornfully, "but excels even the royal Atheling himself, in all the exercises of princely skill."
"He has yet to prove his boast," replied the prince, coloring with suppressed anger; "but give him his bow, Brithric," continued he, "that we may all have the advantage of taking a lesson from so peerless an archer."
"It is far from my wish presumptuously to compete with my lord," replied Wilfrid, calmly rejecting the bow.
"He has boasted that which he cannot perform," said Brithric, with an insulting laugh.
"You are welcome to that opinion, Brithric, if it so please you," said
Wilfrid, turning about to quit the ground.
"Nay," cried the prince, "you go not till you have made good your boast, young sir, by sending an arrow nearer to the mark than mine."