in the royal lists.
So the matter came in for its share of consideration by king and
courtiers, and young Brandon became a person of interest. He became
still more so when some gentlemen who had served with him in the
continental wars told the court of his daring and bravery, and related
stories of deeds at arms worthy of the best knight in Christendom.

He had an uncle at the court, Sir Thomas Brandon, the king's Master of
Horse, who thought it a good opportunity to put his nephew forward
and let him take his chance at winning royal favor. The uncle broached
the subject to the king, with favorable issue, and Charles Brandon,
led by the hand of fate, came to London Court, where that same fate
had in keeping for him events such as seldom fall to the lot of man.

_CHAPTER II_

_How Brandon Came to Court_

When we learned that Brandon was coming to court, every one believed
he would soon gain the king's favor. How much that would amount to
none could tell, as the king's favorites were of many sorts and taken
from all conditions of men. There was Master Wolsey, a butcher's son,
whom he had first made almoner, then chief counselor and Bishop of
Lincoln, soon to be Bishop of York, and Cardinal of the Holy Roman
Church.

From the other extreme of life came young Thomas, Lord Howard, heir to
the Earl of Surrey, and my Lord of Buckingham, premier peer of the
realm. Then sometimes would the king take a yeoman of the guard and
make him his companion in jousts and tournaments, solely because of
his brawn and bone. There were others whom he kept close by him in the
palace because of their wit and the entertainment they furnished; of
which class was I, and, I flatter myself, no mean member.

To begin with, being in no way dependent on the king for money, I
never drew a farthing from the royal treasury. This, you may be sure,
did me no harm, for although the king _sometimes_ delighted to give,
he always hated to pay. There were other good reasons, too, why I
should be a favorite with the king. Without meaning to be vain, I
think I may presume to say, with perfect truth, that my conversation
and manners were far more pleasing and polished than were usual at
that day in England, for I made it a point to spend several weeks each
year in the noble French capital, the home and center of good-breeding
and politeness.

My appointment as Master of the Dance, I am sure, was owing entirely
to my manner. My brother, the baron, w