d.

'How could we have hanged Fulke?' said Sir Richard. 'We needed him to make
our peace with the King. He would have betrayed half England for the boy's
sake. Of that we were sure.'

'I don't understand,' said Una. 'But I think it was simply awful.'

'So did not Fulke. He was well pleased.'

'What? Because his son was going to be killed?'

'Nay. Because De Aquila had shown him how he might save the boy's life and
his own lands and honours. "I will do it," he said. "I swear I will do it.
I will tell the King thou art no traitor, but the most excellent, valiant,
and perfect of us all. Yes, I will save thee."

'De Aquila looked still into the bottom of the cup, rolling the wine-dregs
to and fro.

'"Ay," he said. "If I had a son, I would, I think, save him. But do not by
any means tell me how thou wilt go about it."

'"Nay, nay," said Fulke, nodding his bald head wisely. "That is my secret.
But rest at ease, De Aquila, no hair of thy head nor rood of thy land
shall be forfeited," and he smiled like one planning great good deeds.

'"And henceforward," said De Aquila, "I counsel thee to serve one
master--not two."

'"What?" said Fulke. "Can I work no more honest trading between the two
sides these troublous times?"

'"Serve Robert or the King--England or Normandy," said De Aquila. "I care
not which it is, but make thy choice here and now."

'"The King, then," said Fulke, "for I see he is better served than Robert.
Shall I swear it?"

'"No need," said De Aquila, and he laid his hand on the parchments which
Gilbert had written. "It shall be some part of my Gilbert's penance to
copy out the savoury tale of thy life, till we have made ten, twenty, an
hundred, maybe, copies. How many cattle, think you, would the Bishop of
Tours give for that tale? Or thy brother? Or the Monks of Blois? Minstrels
will turn it into songs which thy own Saxon serfs shall sing behind their
plough-stilts, and men-at-arms riding through thy Norman towns. From here
to Rome, Fulke, men will make very merry over that tale, and how Fulke
told it, hanging in a well, like a drowned puppy. This shall be thy
punishment, if ever I find thee double-dealing with thy King any more.
Meantime, the parchments stay here with thy son. Him I will return to thee
when thou hast made my peace with the King. The parchments never."

'Fulke hid his face and groaned.

'"Bones of the Saints!" said De Aquila, laughing. "The pen cuts deep. I
could never have fetc