The Prince laid his hand upon his shoulder. "It is the little
cock of Tilford Bridge," said he. "On my father's soul, I have
ever said that you would win your way. Did you receive the King's
surrender?"
"Nay, fair lord, I did not receive it."
"Did you hear him give it?"
"I heard, sir, but I did not know that it was the King. My master
Lord Chandos had gone on, and I followed after."
"And left him lying. Then the surrender was not complete, and by
the laws of war the ransom goes to Denis de Morbecque, if his
story be true."
"It is true," said the King. "He was the second."
"Then the ransom is yours, Denis. But for my part I swear by my
father's soul that I had rather have the honor this Squire has
gathered than all the richest ransoms of France."
At these words spoken before that circle of noble warriors Nigel's
heart gave one great throb, and he dropped upon his knee before
the Prince. "Fair lord, how can I thank you?" he murmured.
"These words at least are more than any ransom."
"Rise up!" said the smiling Prince, and he smote with his sword
upon his shoulder. "England has lost a brave Squire, and has
gained a gallant knight. Nay, linger not, I pray! Rise up, Sir
Nigel!"
XXVII. HOW THE THIRD MESSENGER CAME TO COSFORD
Two months have passed, and the long slopes of Hindhead are russet
with the faded ferns--the fuzzy brown pelt which wraps the
chilling earth.
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