’"Look you, boys,” said he, “I am born out of my due time.  Five hundred years ago I would have made all England such an England as neither Dane, Saxon, nor Norman should have conquered.  Five hundred years hence I should have been such a counsellor to Kings as the world hath never dreamed of.  ’Tis all here,” said he, tapping his big head, “but it hath no play in this black age.  Now Hugh here is a better man than thou art, Richard.”  He had made his voice harsh and croaking, like a raven’s.

’"Truth,” said I.  “But for Hugh, his help and patience and long-suffering, I could never have kept the Manor.”

’"Nor thy life either,” said De Aquila.  “Hugh has saved thee not once, but a hundred times.  Be still, Hugh!” he said.  “Dost thou know, Richard, why Hugh slept, and why he still sleeps, among thy Norman men-at-arms?”

’"To be near me,” said I, for I thought this was truth.

’"Fool!” said De Aquila.  “It is because his Saxons have begged him to rise against thee, and to sweep every Norman out of the valley.  No matter how I know.  It is truth.  Therefore Hugh hath made himself an hostage for thy life, well knowing that if any harm befell thee from his Saxons thy Normans would slay him without remedy.  And this his Saxons know.  Is it true, Hugh?”

’"In some sort,” said Hugh shamefacedly; “at least, it was true half a year ago.  My Saxons would not harm Richard now.  I think they know him—­but I judged it best to make sure.”

’Look, children, what that man had done—­and I had never guessed it!  Night after night had he lain down among my men-at-arms, knowing that if one Saxon had lifted knife against me, his life would have answered for mine.

’"Yes,” said De Aquila.  “And he is a swordless man.”  He pointed to Hugh’s belt, for Hugh had put away his sword—­did I tell you?—­the day after it flew from his hand at Santlache.  He carried only the short knife and the long-bow.  “Swordless and landless art thou, Hugh; and they call thee kin to Earl Godwin.” (Hugh was indeed of Godwin’s blood.) “The Manor that was thine is given to this boy and to his children for ever.  Sit up and beg, for he can turn thee out like a dog, Hugh.”

’Hugh said nothing, but I heard his teeth grind, and I bade De Aquila, my own overlord, hold his peace, or I would stuff his words down his throat.  Then De Aquila laughed till the tears ran down his face.

’"I warned the King,” said he, “what would come of giving England to us Norman thieves.  Here art thou, Richard, less than two days confirmed in thy Manor, and already thou hast risen against thy overlord.  What shall we do to him, Sir Hugh?”

’"I am a swordless man,” said Hugh.  “Do not jest with me,” and he laid his head on his knees and groaned.

’"The greater fool thou,” said De Aquila, and all his voice changed; “for I have given thee the Manor of Dallington up the hill this half-hour since,” and he yerked at Hugh with his scabbard across the straw.