Poor Hal tried to obey, the colour mounting in his face, but he only became more and more stiff when he tried to be upright, and his expression was such that Sir Lancelot cried out, ’Put not on the visage of one of thine own sheep!  Ah! how shalt thou be trained to be a worthy knight?  I cannot take thee to mine house, for I have men there who might inform King Edward that thy mother harboured thee.  And unless I could first make interest with Montagu or Salisbury, that would be thy death, if not mine.’

The boy had nothing to say to this, and stood shy by, while his stepfather explained his designs to Hal.  It was needful to remove the young Baron as far as possible from the suspicion of the greater part of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld’s household, and the present resting-place, within a walk of his castle, was therefore unsafe; besides that, freebooters might be another danger, so near the outskirts of the wood, since the northern districts of moor and wood were by no means clear of the remnants of the contending armies, people who were generally of the party opposite to that which they intended to rob.

But on the banks of the Derwent, not far from its fall into the sea, Sir Lancelot had granted a tenure to an old retainer of the De Vescis, who had followed his mistress in her misfortunes; and on his lands Hob Hogward might be established as a guardian of the herds with his family, which would excite no suspicion.  Moreover, he could train the young Baron in martial exercises, the only other way of fitting him for his station unless he could be sent to France or Burgundy like his brother; but besides that the journey was a difficulty, it was always uncertain whether there would be revengeful exiles of one or other side in the service of their King, who might wreak the wrongs of their party on Clifford’s eldest son.  There was reported to be a hermit on the coast, who, if he was a scholar, might teach the young gentleman.  To Sir Lancelot’s surprise, his stepson’s face lighted up more at this suggestion than at that of being trained in arms.

Hob had done nothing in that way, not even begun to teach him the quarterstaff, though he avouched that when there was cause the young lord was no craven, no more than any Clifford ever was—­witness when he drove off the great hound, which some said was a wolf, when it fell upon the flock, or when none could hold him from climbing down the Giant’s Cliff after the lamb that had fallen.  No fear but he had heart enough to make his hand keep his own or other folks’ heads.

‘That is well,’ said Sir Lancelot, looking at the lad, who stood twisting his hands in the speechless silence induced by being the subject of discussion; ’but it would be better, as my lady saith, if he could only learn not to bear himself so like a clown.’

However, there was no more time, for Simon Bunce, the old man-at-arms whom Sir Lancelot had appointed to meet him there, came in sight through the trees, riding an old grey war-horse, much resembling himself in the battered and yet strong and effective air of both.  Springing down, the old man bent very low before the young Baron, raising his cap as he gave thanks to Heaven for permitting him to see his master’s son.  Then, after obeisance to his present master, he and Hob eagerly shook hands as old comrades and fellow-soldiers who had thought never to meet again.