, I see that the Ironside is cunning in thought."

Shaking his head, Father Ingulph moved down the step. "Nay, if you are
in that humor, my son, I waste no breath. Speed you well, and may you
wax in wisdom!" With a gesture, half paternal, half respectful, he
betook himself across the grass to the gate.

Old Morcard turned and stepped up into the doorway, from which he looked
down indulgently upon his laughing master. "It happened formerly, Lord
Sebert, that I knew how to command your earnestness, and that speedily;
but that time has long gone by. Methinks I can accomplish more among
the watchmen upon the platform. By your leave, my lord!" Bowing, he
disappeared in the dark tunnel of the archway, and the Etheling was left
alone save for the graceful figure awaiting him beside the step. The
instant he moved, it sprang forward.

"Lord, is it your wish that I get the horses?"

As the old man had looked down upon the young one, so now the young man
stood looking down upon the boy, regarding him with tolerant severity.
"You most mischief-full elf!" he said. "It would be treating you
deservedly were I to leave you at home."

It did not appear that the lad was seriously cast down; a betraying
dimple came out and played in his cheek, though his mouth struggled for
gravity. "That is unjustly spoken, lord," he protested. "Did I not bear
my punishment with befitting penitence?"

"Penitence!" the Etheling gave one of the small ears a menacing pull as
he descended to the grass. "What! Do you think I did not see your antics
with the dog? You made a jest of the matter, you pixie!"

The page sobered. "I think it great luck that I could, Lord Sebert! Your
servants were eager in making a jest of me when they got the courage
from your displeasure."

But Lord Sebert reached out the wand and gave him a gentle stroke across
the shoulders.

"Take that for your foolishness," he said lightly. "What matters their
babble when you know how safe you sit in my favor?"

Through lowered lashes the boy stole him a glance, half mischievous,
half coaxing. "How safe, lord?" he murmured.

But the Etheling only laughed at him, as he drew up his long
riding-boots and readjusted his belt. "Safe enough so that I forgive you
some dozen floggings a day, you imp; and choose you for my comrade when
I should be profiting by the companionship of your betters. Waste no
more golden moments on whims, youngling, but go bid them fetch the
horses, and we will