"That makes no difference, sire," Sir Walter replied. "I will place him
among the young gentlemen, my pages and esquires, and am sure that they
will receive him as one of themselves."

Geoffrey Ward had hitherto stood at the foot of the steps leading to the
royal pavilion, but doffing his cap he now ascended. "Pardon my boldness,
sire," he said to the king, "but I would fain tell you what the lad himself
has hitherto been ignorant of. He is not, as he supposes, the son of Giles
Fletcher, citizen and bowmaker, but is the lawfully born son of Sir Roland
Somers, erst of Westerham and Hythe, who was killed in the troubles at the
commencement of your majesty's reign. His wife, Dame Alice, brought the
child to Giles Fletcher, whose wife had been her nurse, and dying left him
in her care. Giles and his wife, if called for, can vouch for the truth of
this, and can give you proofs of his birth."

Walter listened with astonishment to Geoffrey's speech. A thrill of
pleasure rushed through his veins as he learned that he was of gentle blood
and might hope to aspire to a place among the knights of King Edward's
court. He understood now the pains which Geoffrey had bestowed in seeing
that he was perfected in warlike exercises, and why both he and Giles had
encouraged rather than repressed his love for martial exercises and his
determination to abandon his craft and become a man-at-arms when he reached
man's estate.

"Ah is it so?" the king exclaimed. "I remember Sir Roland Somers, and also
that he was slain by Sir Hugh Spencer, who, as I heard on many hands, acted
rather on a private quarrel than, as he alleged, in my interest, and there
were many who avowed that the charges brought against Sir Roland were
unfounded. However, this matter must be inquired into, and my High
Justiciar shall see Master Giles and his wife, hear their evidence, and