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The Pope may force the King to take his Queen, but there is nae word in his bulls about Sir Lancelot. We gave him sanctuary to bring the woman, and we will also let him go. But, after that…” “Why should we let him escape us, even now?” “By cause he has safe-conduct. Guid sakes, man Mordred, we are knighted men!” “We must not stoop to dirty weapons, even if our enemies do.” “Aye, just. We will let the boar have law to run, and then pursue him to the death. Arthur is failing: he will do our will” “It is sad,” said Sir Mordred, “how the poor King seems to lose his grip, since all this business started.” “Aye, it is sad. But he kens the difference yet of right and wrong.” “It is a change for him.” “Ye mean, to fail his powers.” “You guess so links of london quickly.” His sarcasms were as easy as teasing a blind man. “He canna have it every way. He never should have sided with that traitor at the start.” “Nor married Gwen.” “Aye, the fault lies with them. 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Then there were more responsible councillors in extraordinary hats, some of which were like tea-cosies, some turbans, some bird wings, some muffs. The gowns of these were pleated and padded, with high ruff-like collars, epaulettes and jewelled belts. There were clerks with neat little skull-caps to keep their tonsures warm, dressed in sober clothes which contrasted with the laity. There was a visiting cardinal in the glorious tasselled hat which still adorns the notepaper of Wolsey’s College at Oxford. There were furs of every kind, including a handsome arrangeme.
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