his arm, and a fair and graceful boy, a little younger than himself,
was standing by with the flask of wine in his hand, and a face of
such girlish beauty that as he knelt to hold the wine to his lips,
Bertram asked--

"Am I among the Angels?"

"Not yet," said the elder man. "Art thou near thine home?"

"Alack! I have no home, kind sir," said Bertram, now able to raise
himself and to perceive that he was in the midst of a small hand of
armed men, such as every knight or noble necessarily carried about
with him for protection. There was a standard with a dragon, and
their leader himself was armed, all save his head, and, as Bertram
saw, was a man of massive strength, noble stature, and kingly
appearance.

"What shall we do for thee?" he asked. "Who hath put thee in this
evil case?"

Bertram gave his name, and at its Norman sound there was a start of
repulsion from the boy. "French after all!" he exclaimed.

"Nay, David," said the leader, "if I mind me rightly, the Lady
Elftrud of Boyatt wedded a brave Norman of that name. Art thou her
son? I see something of her face, and thou hast an English tongue."

"I am; I am her only son!" exclaimed Bertram; and as he told of his
wrongs and the usage he had met with, young David cried out with
indignation--