“I crave to remind you, noble Thane,” he said, “that when we last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render you, to grant me a boon.”
“It is granted ere named, noble Knight,” said Cedric; “yet, at this sad moment—-”
“Of that also,” said the King, “I have bethought me—but my time is brief—neither does it seem to me unfit, that, when closing the grave on the noble Athelstane, we should deposit therein certain prejudices and hasty opinions.”
“Sir Knight of the Fetterlock,” said Cedric, colouring, and interrupting the King in his turn, “I trust your boon regards yourself and no other; for in that which concerns the honour of my house, it is scarce fitting that a stranger should mingle.”
“Nor do I wish to mingle,” said the King, mildly, “unless in so far as you will admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black Knight of the Fetterlock—Know me now as Richard Plantagenet.”
“Richard of Anjou!” exclaimed Cedric, stepping backward with the utmost astonishment.
“No, noble Cedric—Richard of England!—whose deepest interest—whose deepest wish, is to see her sons united with each other.—And, how now, worthy Thane! hast thou no knee for thy prince?”
“To Norman blood,” said Cedric, “it hath never bended.”
“Reserve thine homage then,” said the Monarch, “until I shall prove my right to it by my equal protection of Normans and English.”
“Prince,” answered Cedric, “I have ever done justice to thy bravery and thy worth—Nor am I ignorant of thy claim to the crown through thy descent from Matilda, niece to Edgar Atheling, and daughter to Malcolm of Scotland. But Matilda, though of the royal Saxon blood, was not the heir to the monarchy.”