'"So did I. It was a black fog. Robert could have landed ten thousand
men, and we none the wiser. Does he tell how we were out all day riding
the Marsh, and how I near perished in a quicksand, and coughed like a
sick ewe for ten days after?" cried De Aquila.

'"No," said Hugh. "But here is the prayer of Gilbert himself to his
master Fulke."

'"Ah," said De Aquila. "Well I knew it was Fulke. What is the price of
my blood?"

'"Gilbert prayeth that when our Lord of Pevensey is stripped of his
lands on this evidence which Gilbert hath, with fear and pains,
collected----"

'"Fear and pains is a true word," said De Aquila, and sucked in his
cheeks. "But how excellent a weapon is a pen! I must learn it."

'"He prays that Fulke will advance him from his present service to that
honour in the Church which Fulke promised him. And lest Fulke should
forget, he has written below, 'To be Sacristan of Battle'."

'At this De Aquila whistled. "A man who can plot against one lord can
plot against another. When I am stripped of my lands Fulke will whip off
my Gilbert's foolish head. None the less Battle needs a new Sacristan.
They tell me the Abbot Henry keeps no sort of rule there."

'"Let the Abbot wait," said Hugh. "It is our heads and our lands that
are in danger. This parchment is the second part of the tale. The first
has gone to Fulke, and so to the King, who will hold us traitors."