“You will be a valiant champion no doubt, my boy,” the prior said, laughing.  “But that is just what your father does not want.  Chop off the heads of as many infidels as you will, but leave Englishmen alone, be they dukes or commoners.  It is a far more glorious career to be aiding to defend Europe against the Moslem than to be engaged in wars with your own countrymen.  If the great lords will fight, let them fight it out themselves without our aid; but I hope that long before you become a man even they will be tired of these perpetual broils, and that some agreement may be arrived at, and peace reign in this unhappy land.”

“Besides, Gervaise,” his father added, “you must bear in mind always that my earnest wish and hope is that you will become a champion of the Cross.  I took a solemn vow before you were born that if a son were granted to me I would dedicate him to the service of the Cross, and if I am taken from you, you must still try to carry that oath into effect.  I trust that, at any rate for some years after you attain manhood, you will expend your whole strength and powers in the defence of Christianity, and as a worthy knight of the Order of St. John.  Too many of the knights, after serving for three years against the infidels, return to their native countries and pass the rest of their lives in slothful ease at their commanderies, save perhaps when at any great crisis they go out for a while and join in the struggle.  Such is not the life I should wish you to lead.  At the death of your mother and myself, you will have no family ties in England —­ nothing to recall you here.  If the House of York succeeds in establishing itself firmly on the throne, my estates will be forfeited.  Therefore, regard Rhodes as your permanent home, and devote your life to the Order.  Beginning so young, you may hope to distinguish yourself —­ to gain high rank in it; but remember that though these are my wishes, they are not my orders, and that your career must be in your own hands.”

“I will be a brave knight, father,” the boy said firmly.

“That is right, my boy.  Now go upstairs to your bed; it is already late.  I do not regret my vow,” he went on, after Gervaise had left the room, “though I regret that he is my only son.  It is singular that men should care about what comes after them, but I suppose it is human nature.  I should have liked to think that my descendants would sit in the old house, and that men of my race and name would long own the estates.  But doubtless it is all for the best; for at least I can view the permanent loss of my estates, in case the Yorkists triumph, without any poignant regret.”