So I was sure."
"'He is bold," said De Aquila. "Do him justice. In his
own fashion, my Gilbert is bold."
"'Overbold," said Hugh. "Hearken here," and he
read: "Upon the Feast of St Agatha, our Lord of Pevensey,
lying in his upper chamber, being clothed in his
second fur gown reversed with rabbit -"
"'Pest on him! He is not my tire-woman!" said
De Aquila, and Hugh and I laughed.
"'Reversed with rabbit, seeing a fog over the marshes,
did wake Sir Richard Dalyngridge, his drunken cup-
mate" (here they laughed at me) "and said, 'Peer out, old
fox, for God is on the Duke of Normandy's side."'
"'So did I. It was a black fog. Robert could have landed
ten thousand men, and we none the wiser. Does he tell
how we were out all day riding the Marsh, and how I near
perished in a quicksand, and coughed like a sick ewe for
ten days after?" cried De Aquila.
"'No," said Hugh. "But here is the prayer of Gilbert
himself to his master Fulke."
"'Ah," said De Aquila. "Well I knew it was Fulke.
What is the price of my blood?"
"'Gilbert prayeth that when our Lord of Pevensey is
stripped of his lands on this evidence which Gilbert hath,
with fear and pains, collected -"
"'Fear and pains is a true word," said De Aquila, and
sucked in his cheeks.
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