At this, the King laughed loud and long.  “Truly,” said he, “thou art taking up with strange matters for a queen.  If thou wilt bring those three fellows that thou speakest of, I will promise faithfully to give them free pardon for forty days, to come or to go wheresoever they please, nor will I harm a hair of their heads in all that time.  Moreover, if these that thou bringest shoot better than my yeomen, man for man, they shall have the prizes for themselves according to their shooting.  But as thou hast so taken up of a sudden with sports of this kind, hast thou a mind for a wager?”

“Why, in sooth,” said Queen Eleanor, laughing, “I know nought of such matters, but if thou hast a mind to do somewhat in that way, I will strive to pleasure thee.  What wilt thou wager upon thy men?”

Then the merry King laughed again, for he dearly loved goodly jest; so he said, amidst his laughter, “I will wager thee ten tuns of Rhenish wine, ten tuns of the stoutest ale, and tenscore bows of tempered Spanish yew, with quivers and arrows to match.”

All that stood around smiled at this, for it seemed a merry wager for a king to give to a queen; but Queen Eleanor bowed her head quietly.  “I will take thy wager,” said she, “for I know right well where to place those things that thou hast spoken of.  Now, who will be on my side in this matter?” And she looked around upon them that stood about; but no one spake or cared to wager upon the Queen’s side against such archers as Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton.  Then the Queen spoke again, “Now, who will back me in this wager?  Wilt thou, my Lord Bishop of Hereford?”

“Nay,” quoth the Bishop hastily, “it ill befits one of my cloth to deal in such matters.  Moreover, there are no such archers as His Majesty’s in all the world; therefore I would but lose my money.

“Methinks the thought of thy gold weigheth more heavily with thee than the wrong to thy cloth,” said the Queen, smiling, and at this a ripple of laughter went around, for everyone knew how fond the Bishop was of his money.  Then the Queen turned to a knight who stood near, whose name was Sir Robert Lee.  “Wilt thou back me in this manner?” said she.  “Thou art surely rich enough to risk so much for the sake of a lady.”

“To pleasure my Queen I will do it,” said Sir Robert Lee, “but for the sake of no other in all the world would I wager a groat, for no man can stand against Tepus and Gilbert and Clifton.”

Then turning to the King, Queen Eleanor said, “I want no such aid as Sir Robert giveth me; but against thy wine and beer and stout bows of yew I wager this girdle all set with jewels from around my waist; and surely that is worth more than thine.”

“Now, I take thy wager,” quoth the King.  “Send for thy archers straightway.  But here come forth the others; let them shoot, and then I will match those that win against all the world.”

“So be it,” said the Queen.  Thereupon, beckoning to young Richard Partington, she whispered something in his ear, and straightway the Page bowed and left the place, crossing the meadow to the other side of the range, where he was presently lost in the crowd.  At this, all that stood around whispered to one another, wondering what it all meant, and what three men the Queen was about to set against those famous archers of the King’s guard.