Then Peter by night was taken to Sir Ralph Bonamys
house at WoodEaton.
He stared till they were out of sight, and when he
spokehis voice was solemn.
He cannot love the Tudor, but he may not consent to
giveplace to a son of Buckingham. The boy was about twelve years ofage, squat and
freckled and frog-like.
They professed to fight in the name of Christs
Church. For a queen she was bornto be; nothing less would content him, or be worthy
of hermagnificence.
Under Sir Ralphs direction he was taught
theaccomplishments of his rank. I have naught against the lad,though my sire and his
fought like cockerels. Worse, he saw two of the hunterscoming towards him, whom he
could not choose but pass. Peter himself had no shyness, for this old man wasthe
thing he loved best in the world. The boy was not lonely, for he wentanew to
school.
The King, as you know, has married the Seymour, so
he has a newbreed of wifes kin to provide for.
You were born inlawful wedlock, a second son. You
will have ague in your young bones ifyou sit in a damp shirt.
How will you relish taking to the greenwoodlike
Robin Hood or Little John? The westering sun was in the old mans face, and it showed
that inhis eyes which belied his age.
Presently, as they toiled through a thicketof oak
saplings, the sun came out.
A magpie flew down the hollow, but he had turned
his head to thehill and did not notice it.
These same eyes might well have been on the girl at
his side.
He felt his forehead flush and a wildgladness in
him which sent the tears to his eyes. In front of it ablackened angle of the rock
showed where a fire had once burned.
Then up to Yule I hunt the fox and badger and get
the pikeout of the river. But I stand for holy Church, the old blood and the old
ways, andnot least for Ned Staffords son.
For amoment a recollection of Tobiass earnest eyes
gave this plea ashadow of weight. Peter, as he looked on him,felt his curiosity
changing to awe. I will ride with you, providedyour campaigning season does not fall
athwart my other duties.
There was something about this man whichmade them
needless.
Then he cut himself a wedgeof pie which might have
provisioned a ploughman for a week. Were there many with the faith of Tobias, life
might stillbe breathed into them.
It was his own sanctuary, hallowed with his
innermostdreams.