“Another, then; not Hugh Lozelle,” said Godwin, “since he cannot write, and if he could, would never pen words so knightly.”

“The words may be knightly, but the writer’s deeds were base enough,” replied Sir Andrew; “nor, in truth do I understand this scroll.”

“The interpreter spoke of the short man as his master,” suggested Wulf.

“Ay, nephew; but him you met.  This writing speaks of a master whom Godwin may meet, and who would wish the writer to pay him a certain honour.”

“Perhaps he wrote thus to blind us.”

“Perchance, perchance.  The matter puzzles me.  Moreover, of whom these men were I have been able to learn nothing.  A boat was seen passing towards Bradwell—­indeed, it seems that you saw it, and that night a boat was seen sailing southwards down St. Peter’s sands towards a ship that had anchored off Foulness Point.  But what that ship was, whence she came, and whither she went, none know, though the tidings of this fray have made some stir.”

“Well,” said Wulf, “at the least we have seen the last of her crew of women-thieves.  Had they meant more mischief, they would have shown themselves again ere now.”

Sir Andrew looked grave as he answered.

“So I trust, but all the tale is very strange.  How came they to know that you and Rosamund were riding that day to St. Peter’s-on-the-Wall, and so were able to waylay you?  Surely some spy must have warned them, since that they were no common pirates is evident, for they spoke of Lozelle, and bade you two begone unharmed, as it was Rosamund whom they needed.  Also, there is the matter of the sword that fell from the hand of Godwin when he was hurt, which was returned in so strange a fashion.  I have known many such deeds of chivalry done in the East by Paynim men—­”

“Well, Rosamund is half an Eastern,” broke in Wulf carelessly; “and perhaps that had something to do with it all.”

Sir Andrew started, and the colour rose to his pale face.  Then in a tone in which he showed he wished to speak no more of this matter, he said: 

“Enough, enough.  Godwin is very weak, and grows weary, and before I leave him I have a word to say that it may please you both to hear.  Young men, you are of my blood, the nearest to it except Rosamund—­the sons of that noble knight, my brother.  I have ever loved you well, and been proud of you, but if this was so in the past, how much more is it thus to-day, when you have done such high service to my house?  Moreover, that deed was brave and great; nothing more knightly has been told of in Essex this many a year, and those who wrought it should no longer be simple gentlemen, but very knights.  This boon it is in my power to grant to you according to the ancient custom.  Still, that none may question it, while you lay sick, but after it was believed that Godwin would live, which at first we scarcely dared to hope, I journeyed to London and sought audience of our lord the king.  Having told him this tale, I prayed him that he would be pleased to grant me his command in writing that I should name you knights.