Julian bore a strong resemblance to Bertram both in person and disposition.  He was a very fine boy, nearly fourteen years old, and had been the companion of his brothers from infancy, so that he often appeared older than his age.  All three brothers were bound together in bonds of more than wonted affection.  They not only shared their sports and studies, but held almost all their belongings in common.  Each lad had his own horse and his own weapons, whilst Edred had one or two books over which he claimed absolute possession; but for the rest, they enjoyed all properties in common, and it had hardly entered into their calculations that they could ever be separated, save when the idea of making Edred into a monk came under discussion; and as that would not be done for some years, it scarcely seemed worth troubling over now.  Perhaps things would turn out differently in the end, and they would remain together at Chad for the whole of their natural lives.

Nurse never wearied of the tales told by her young masters, and listened with fond pride to the recital.  So eagerly were Bertram and Julian talking, that they did not heed the sound of the horn at the gate way which bespoke the arrival of some messenger; but Edred slipped out to see who could be coming, and presently he returned with a frown upon his brow.

“There is a messenger at the gate who wears the livery of Mortimer,” he said.  “An insolent knave to boot, who flung his missive in the face of old Ralph, and spurred off with a mocking laugh.  I would I had had my good steed between my knees, and I would have given the rascal a lesson in manners.  I like not these messengers from Mortimer; they always betide ill will to my father.”

Lady Chadgrove looked anxious for a moment, but her brow soon cleared as she made answer:  “I shall be sorry if aught comes to grieve or vex your father; but so long as we are careful to give no just cause for offence, we need not trouble our heads overmuch as to the jealous anger of the Lord of Mortimer.  I misdoubt me if he can really hurt us, be he never so vindictive.  The king is just, and he values the services of your father.  He will not permit him to be molested without cause.  And methinks my Lord of Mortimer knows as much, else he would have wrought us more ill all these past years.”

“He is a tyrant and an evil liver!” cried Bertram hotly; “and his servants be drunken, brawling knaves, every one—­as insolent as their master.  If I had been old Ralph, I would have hurled back his missive in his face, and bidden him deliver it rightly.”

“Nay, nay, my son; that would but be to stir up strife.  If others comport themselves ill, that is no reason why our servants should do the like.  I would never give a foe a handle against me by the ill behaviour of even a serving man.  Let them act never so surlily, I would that they were treated with all due courtesy.”

Bertram and Julian hardly entered into their mother’s feelings on this point; but Edred looked up eagerly, and it was plain that he understood the feelings which prompted the words, for he said in a low voice: