Part 10 (1/2)

”A mere English villein, little better than a valet of the camp!”

were the exclamations around. ”A n.o.ble damsel take note of him!

Fie for shame!”

”He has been true and brave,” said the King. ”Dost ask a guerdon for him, young sir?” he added to Walter.

”What wouldst have, old Sigbert?” asked Walter, in a patronising voice.

”I ask nothing, sir,” returned the old squire. ”To have seen my lord's children in safety is all I wish. I have but done my duty.”

King Fulk, who saw through the whole more clearly than some of those around, yet still had the true Angevin and Norman contempt for a Saxon, here said: ”Old man, thou art trusty and shrewd, and mayst be useful. Wilt thou take service as one of my men-at-arms?”

”Thou mayst,” said Walter; ”thou art not bound to me. England hath enough of Saxon churls without thee, and I shall purvey myself an esquire of youthful grace and n.o.ble blood.”

Mabel looked at her betrothed and began to speak.

”No, no, sweet lady, I will have none of that rough, old masterful sort about me.”

”Sir King,” said Sigbert, ”I thank thee heartily. I would still serve the Cross; but my vow has been, when my young lord and lady should need me no more, to take the Cross of St. John with the Hospitaliers.”

”As a lay brother? Bethink thee,” said Fulk of Anjou. ”n.o.ble blood is needed for a Knight of the Order.”

Sigbert smiled slightly, in spite of all the sadness of his face, and the Knight Commander who had ridden with them, a Fleming by birth, said--

”For that matter, Sir King, we are satisfied. Sigbert, the son of Sigfrid, hath proved his descent from the old English kings of the East Saxons, and the Order will rejoice to enrol in the novitiate so experienced a warrior.”

”Is this indeed so?” asked Fulk. ”A good lineage, even if Englis.h.!.+”

”But rebel,” muttered Courtwood.

”It is so, Sir King,” said Sigbert. ”My father was disseised of the lands of Hundberg, and died in the fens fighting under Hereward le Wake. My mother dwelt under the protection of the Abbey of Colchester, and, by and by, I served under our Atheling, and, when King Henry's wars in Normandy were over, I followed the Lord of Hundberg's banner, because the men-at-arms were mine own neighbours, and his lady my kinswoman. Roger can testify to my birth and lineage.”

”So, thou art true heir of Hundberg, if that be the name of thine English castle?”

”Ay, sir, save for the Norman! But I would not, if I could, meddle with thee, my young lord, though thou dost look at me askance, spite of having learnt of me to ride and use thy lance. I am the last of the English line of old Sigfrid the Wormbane, and a childless man, and I trust the land and the serfs will be well with thee, who art English born, and son to Wulfrida of Lexden. And I trust that thou, my sweet Lady Mabel, will be a happy bride and wife. All I look for is to end my days under the Cross, in the cause of the Holy Sepulchre, whether as warrior or lay brother. Yes, dear lady, that is enough for old Sigbert.”

And Mabel had to acquiesce and believe that her old friend found peace and gladness beneath the eight-pointed Cross, when she and her brother sailed for England, where she would behold the green fields and purple heather of which he had told her amid the rocks of Palestine.

Moreover, she thought of him when on her way through France, she heard the young monk Bernard, then rising into fame, preach on the beleaguered city, saved by the poor wise man; and tell how, when the city was safe, none remembered the poor man. True, the preacher gave it a mystic meaning, and interpreted it as meaning the emphatically Poor Man by Whom Salvation came, and Whom too few bear in mind. Yet such a higher meaning did not exclude the thought of one whose deserts surpa.s.sed his honours here on earth.

THE BEGGAR'S LEGACY

An Alderman bold, Henry Smith was enrolled, Of the Silversmiths' Company; Highly praised was his name, his skill had high fame, And a prosperous man was he.

Knights drank to his health, and lauded his wealth; Sailors came from the Western Main, Their prizes they sold, of ingots of gold, Or plate from the galleys of Spain.

Then beakers full fine, to hold the red wine, Were cast in his furnace's mould, Or tankards rich chased, in intricate taste, Gimmal rings of the purest gold.

On each New Year's morn, no man thought it scorn-- Whether statesman, or warrior brave-- The choicest device, of costliest price, For a royal off'ring to crave.

”Bring here such a toy as the most may joy The eyes of our gracious Queen, Rows of orient pearls, gold pins for her curls, Silver network, all glistening sheen.”