Here Queen Philippa suddenly became interested.

“Why is the lady called Red Eve, sir?” she asked in her soft voice.  “Because her cheeks are red?”

“No, Madam,” answered Hugh, blushing; “because she always loves to wear red garments.”

“Ah, then she is dark!”

“That is so, Madam; her eyes and hair are black as ash-buds.”

“God’s truth!  Lady,” interrupted King Edward, “is this young man’s message of the colour of the eyes of his mistress, which, without doubt, being in love, he describes falsely?  On with the letter!”

“Out of this matter,” continued Hugh, “rose a feud yesterday, during which Hugh de Cressi killed his cousin John, fighting a outrance, and his servant, Richard the Archer, who accompanies him, commonly known as Grey Dick, slew three men with as many arrows, two of them being Normans whose names are unknown to us, and the third a grieve to Sir John Clavering, called Thomas of Kessland.  Also, he killed a horse, and when another Frenchman tried to grasp his master, sent a shaft through the palm of his hand.”

“By St. George,” said the King, “but here is shooting!  Were they near to you, Grey Dick?”

“Not so far away, Sire.  Only the light was very bad, or I should have had the fourth.  I aimed low, Sire, fearing to miss his skull, and he jerked up his horse’s head to take the arrow.”

“A good trick!  I’ve played it myself.  Well, let us have done with the letter, and then we’ll come to archery.”

“Sire,” read on Hugh, “I ask your royal pardon to Hugh de Cressi and Richard the Archer for these slayings, believing that when you have read these letters it will be granted.”

“That remains to be seen,” muttered the King.

“Sire, Sir Edmund Acour, who has lands here in Suffolk, Count de Noyon in Normandy, and Seigneur of Cattrina in Italy——­”

“I know the man,” exclaimed Edward to the Queen, “and so do you.  A handsome knight and a pleasant, but one of whom I have always misdoubted me.”

“—­Is also enamoured of Eve Clavering, and with her father’s will seeks to make her his wife, though she hates him, and by the charter of Dunwich, of which she is a citizen, has the right to wed whom she will.”

“It is well there are not many such charters.  The old story—­brave men done to death for the sake of a woman who is rightly named Red Eve,” mused the King.

“My Liege, I pray that you will read the letter herein enclosed.  Hugh de Cressi will tell you how it came to my hand, since I lack time to write all the story.  If it seems good to your Grace, I pray you scotch this snake while he is in your garden, lest he should live to sting you when you walk abroad.  If it please you to give your royal warrant to the bearer of this letter, and to address the same to such of your subjects in Dunwich as you may think good, I doubt not but that men can be found to execute the same.  Thus would a great and traitorous plot be brought to nothing, to your own glory and the discomfiture of your foes in France, who hope to lay their murderous hands upon the throne of England.  “Your humble servant and subject,