"And thou," said he, in admiration, "hast come through these terrors in such a spirit of courage, wisdom, and love. Verily, my lords, ye see here a child that God has led marvellously on an undoubted work of charity."
While their eyes rested on me with a wonder I loved not—for, indeed, what had I done above what any knightly youth should do for those he loves?—I spake on, telling them how few days' food remained at Vale, and how strait they were shut in, and begging them to see that I passed on to William swiftly.
"The duke is far north now," said the abbot, "gathering strength for the dangers that are looming from France. It is a sore ill time to beseech him. Yet matters will not wait. In this case," he said strangely, "thou wilt be thine own best advocate with him, for well he loves a brave and knightly deed. With all haste fit letters shall be written to win thee a ready entrance to his presence—to his heart thou must win thine own way, as thou hast with us."
"Teach him not, then," said Lanfranc, "too piteously of the sorrows of our brethren, for a few monks more or less matter not to him, but represent the arrogance of this Sarrasin, and how clearly he claims the title of Lord of the Seas. That will touch best our sovereign lord."
"Is not my Lord Maugher still in Guernsey?" asked the abbot, pondering.
"Yea, he is," I said.
"And how acts he in this trouble? Is he besieged with the brethren, or goes he free?"
"My lords," said I, "as I was led captive through the Sarrasin's castle, I saw the same evil beast that my lord calls Folly, but men his familiar demon. I saw it in the very presence of Geoffroy; therefore I think these evil men are hand and glove together."
"Nay—wilt thou swear this?" said Lanfranc.
"Ay, that I will," I said.