"Your pardon, my lord," he said; "I should have known you."
"That might have been hard," answered Geoffrey, "since you had never
seen me. But as you were on your way to find me and wished to serve me,
mount again and ride with us to Paris, whither we go."
So Gilbert mounted, and would have fallen back in the train among the
young squires, behind the five ranks of knights who rode after the
Duke. But Geoffrey would not let him take his place at once, for he was
glad to have news of the long struggle in England, the end of which was
to set a Plantagenet upon the throne; and he asked many questions which
the young man answered as well as he could, though some of them were
not easy; and the boy Henry listened with grave face and unwinking eyes
to all that was said.
"If I had been in my mother's place," he said at last, in a pause," I
would have cut off Stephen's head in Bristol Castle."
"And let your uncle Gloucester be put to death by Stephen's wife?"
Geoffrey looked at his son curiously.
"She would not have done it," answered Henry. "There could have been no
more war, with Stephen dead. But if she had killed my uncle, well, what
of that? The crown of England is worth one life, at least!"
Gilbert heard and wondered at the boy's hardness, but held his peace.
He was surprised also that the Duke should say nothing, and the speech
of the one and the silence of the other clearly foreshadowed the
kingdom for one or both. But the boy's words seemed heartless and not
altogether knightly to Warde, who was himself before all things a man
of heart; and the first impression made on him by the precocious lad
was more or less a wrong one, since Henry afterwards turned out a just
and kind man, though often stern and unforgetful of offence.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74