Ha, Sir James' cup is low! I must see to
it!" He darted off, a flagon of Gascony in his hand. "The King
hath had good news to-night," he continued when he returned. "I
have not seen him in so merry a mind since the night when we took
the Frenchmen and he laid his pearl chaplet upon the head of de
Ribeaumont. See how he laughs, and the Prince also. That laugh
bodes some one little good, or I am the more mistaken. Have a
care! Sir John's plate is empty."
It was Nigel's turn to dart away; but ever in the intervals he
returned to the corner whence he could look down the hall and
listen to the words of the older Squire. Delves was a short,
thick-set man past middle age, weather-beaten and scarred, with a
rough manner and bearing which showed that he was more at his ease
in a tent than a hall. But ten years of service had taught him
much, and Nigel listened eagerly to his talk.
"Indeed the King hath some good tidings," he continued. "See now,
he has whispered it to Chandos and to Manny. Manny spreads it on
to Sir Reginald Cobham, and he to Robert Knolles, each smiling
like the Devil over a friar."
"Which is Sir Robert Knolles?" asked Nigel with interest. "I have
heard much of him and his deeds."
"He is the tall hard-faced man in yellow silk, he with the
hairless cheeks and the split lip. He is little older than
yourself, and his father was a cobbler in Chester, yet he has
already won the golden spurs.
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