’"There is no need for thee to give any account of thy stewardship,” said he.  “I have it all from the child here.”  And he told me how the young thing had stopped his tall horse at the Ford, by waving of a branch, and crying that the way was barred.  “And if one bold, bare babe be enough to guard the Ford in these days, thou hast done well,” said he, and puffed and wiped his head.

’He pinched the child’s cheek, and looked at our cattle in the flat by the river.

’"Both fat,” said he, rubbing his nose.  “This is craft and cunning such as I love.  What did I tell thee when I rode away, boy?”

’"Hold the Manor or hang,” said I. I had never forgotten it.

’"True.  And thou hast held.”  He clambered from his saddle and with his sword’s point cut out a turf from the bank and gave it me where I kneeled.’

Dan looked at Una, and Una looked at Dan.

‘That’s seizin,’ said Puck, in a whisper.

’"Now thou art lawfully seized of the Manor, Sir Richard,” said he—­’twas the first time he ever called me that—­“thou and thy heirs for ever.  This must serve till the King’s clerks write out thy title on a parchment.  England is all ours—­if we can hold it.”

’"What service shall I pay?” I asked, and I remember I was proud beyond words.

’"Knight’s fee, boy, knight’s fee!” said he, hopping round his horse on one foot. (Have I said he was little, and could not endure to be helped to his saddle?) “Six mounted men or twelve archers thou shalt send me whenever I call for them, and—­where got you that corn?” said he, for it was near harvest, and our corn stood well.  “I have never seen such bright straw.  Send me three bags of the same seed yearly, and furthermore, in memory of our last meeting—­with the rope round thy neck—­entertain me and my men for two days of each year in the Great Hall of thy Manor.”

’"Alas!” said I, “then my Manor is already forfeit.  I am under vow not to enter the Great Hall.”  And I told him what I had sworn to the Lady AElueva.’

‘And hadn’t you ever been into the house since?’ said Una.

‘Never,’ Sir Richard answered, smiling.  ’I had made me a little hut of wood up the hill, and there I did justice and slept ...  De Aquila wheeled aside, and his shield shook on his back.  “No matter, boy,” said he.  “I will remit the homage for a year."’

‘He meant Sir Richard needn’t give him dinner there the first year,’ Puck explained.

’De Aquila stayed with me in the hut, and Hugh, who could read and write and cast accounts, showed him the Roll of the Manor, in which were written all the names of our fields and men, and he asked a thousand questions touching the land, the timber, the grazing, the mill, and the fish-ponds, and the worth of every man in the valley.  But never he named the Lady AElueva’s name, nor went he near the Great Hall.  By night he drank with us in the hut.  Yes, he sat on the straw like an eagle ruffled in her feathers, his yellow eyes rolling above the cup, and he pounced in his talk like an eagle, swooping from one thing to another, but always binding fast.  Yes; he would lie still awhile, and then rustle in the straw, and speak sometimes as though he were King William himself, and anon he would speak in parables and tales, and if at once we saw not his meaning he would yerk us in the ribs with his scabbarded sword.