Nine years had passed since that strange night when Bertram had
been awakened by the advent of the mysterious stranger at his
bedside. He had developed since then from a sturdy little boy into
a fine-grown youth of seventeen, who had in his own eyes, and in
the eyes of many others, well-nigh reached man's estate; and who
would, if need should arise, go forth equipped for war to fight the
king's battles. He was a handsome, dark-haired, dark-eyed youth,
with plenty of determination and force of character, and with a
love of Chad so deeply rooted in his nature, that to be the heir of
that property seemed to him the finest position in all the world,
and he would not have exchanged it for that of Prince of Wales.

The second son, Edred (Ethelred was his true name; he was called
after his mother, Etheldred), was some half-head shorter than his
brother, but a fine boy for all that. He was fifteen, and whilst
sharing to a great extent in the love of sport and of warlike games
so common in that day, he was also a greater lover of books than
his brothers, and would sometimes absent himself from their
pastimes to study with Brother Emmanuel and learn from him many
things that were not written in books. The other lads gave more
time to study than was usual at that period; for both Sir Oliver
and his lady believed in the value of book lore and the use of the
pen, deploring the lack of learning that had prevailed during the
confusion of the late wars, and greatly desiring its revival. But
it was Edred who really inherited the scholarly tastes of his
parents, and already the question of making a monk of him was under
serious discussion. The boy thought that if he might have a few
more years of liberty and enjoyment he should like the life of the
cloister well.