"What is your business, sir?" asked the King.

The fellow released Master Richard and stood aside.

"I bring tidings from our Lord," said the young man. He was all out of
breath, he told me, with the pushing and striking, and held on to the
red-painted barrier with both hands.

The King stooped and whispered with at cardinal, who was plucking him by
the sleeve, for the space of a _paternoster_, and the murmuring began to
break out again. Then he turned, and lifted his hand once more for
silence.

"What are the tidings, sir?"

"They are for your private ear, your grace."

"Nay," said the King, "we have no private ear but for God's Word."

"This is God's Word," said Master Richard.

There was laughter at that, and the crowd came nearer again, but the
King did not laugh. He stood still, looking this way and that, now on
Master Richard, and now on the cardinal, who was pulling again at
sleeve. It seemed as if he could not determine what to do.

Then he spoke again.

"Who are you, sir?"