"I am a solitary, named Richard Raynal," said the young man. "I come
from the country, from ... [It is most annoying that the name of the
village is wanting.] Sir John Chaldfield, the parson, will
undertake for me, your grace."

"Is Sir John here?" asked my lord cardinal, smiling at the clerks.

"No, my lord," said Master Richard, "he has his sheep in the wilderness.
He cannot run about to Court."

There was again a noise of laughter and dissent from the crowd of
clerks, and my lord cardinal smiled more than ever, shewing his white
teeth in the midst of his ruddy face.

"This is a witty fellow, your grace," said my lord cardinal aloud to the
King. "Will your grace be pleased to hear him in private?"

The King looked at Master Richard again, as if he knew not what to do.

"Will you not tell us here, sir?" he asked.

"I will not, your grace."

"Have you weapons upon you?" said my lord cardinal, still smiling.

Master Richard pointed to the linen upon his breast.

"I bear wounds, not weapons," he answered; which was a brave and shrewd
answer, and one that would please the King.