“Be my man!  Be my man!”

But Dick only growled, “Paws off!  What have I done that I have not done a score of times before with no fine folk to watch me?  I shot to please my master and for the honour of Suffolk, not for you, and because some dogs keep their tails too tightly curled.”

“A sulky fellow,” said the Prince, “but, by heaven, I like him!”

Then the King pushed his horse through the throng, and all fell back before his Grace.

“Richard Archer,” he said, “never has such marksmanship as yours been seen in England since we sat upon the throne, nor shall it go unrewarded.  The twenty angels that you said you would stake last night shall be paid to you by the treasurer of our household.  Moreover, here is a gift from Edward of England, the friend of archers, that you may be pleased to wear,” and taking his velvet cap from off his head, the King unpinned from it a golden arrow of which the barbed head was cut from a ruby, and gave it to him.

“I thank you, Sire,” said Dick, his pale skin flushing with pride and pleasure.  “I’ll wear it while I live, and may the sight of it mean death to many of your enemies.”

“Without doubt it will, and that ere long, Richard, for know you that soon we sail again for France, whence the tempest held us back, and it is my pleasure that you sail with us.  Therefore I name you one of our fletchers, with place about our person in our bodyguard of archers.  Jack Green will show you your quarters, and instruct you in your duties, and soon you shall match your skill against his again, but next time with Frenchmen for your targets.”

“Sire,” said Dick, very slowly, “take back your arrow, for I cannot do as you will.”

“Why, man?  Are you a Frenchman?” asked the King, angrily, for he was not wont to have his favours thus refused.

“My mother never told me so, Sire, although I don’t know for certain who my father may have been.  Still, I think not, since I hate the sight of that breed as a farmer’s dog hates rats.  But, Sire, I have a good master, and do not wish to change him for one who, saving your presence, may prove a worse, since King’s favour on Monday has been known to mean King’s halter on Tuesday.  Did you not promise to whip me round your walls last night unless I shot as well as I thought I could, and now do you not change your face and give me golden arrows?”

At these bold words a roar of laughter went up from all who heard them, in which the King himself joined heartily enough.

“Silence!” he cried presently.  “This yeoman’s tongue is as sharp as his shafts.  I am pierced.  Let us hear whom he will hit next.”

“You again, Sire, I think,” went on Dick, “because, after the fashion of kings, you are unjust.  You praise me for my shooting, whereas you should praise God, seeing that it is no merit of mine, but a gift He gave me at my birth in place of much which He withheld.  Moreover, my master there,” and he pointed to Hugh, “who has just done you better service than hitting a clout in the red and a dow beneath the wing, you forget altogether, though I tell you he can shoot almost as well as I, for I taught him.”