“So you are the man who slew the French knight with an ancient sword, and afterwards shot three other Frenchmen with three shafts, sending one of them through shield and mail and body, a tale that was spoken of afterwards, even in London.  God’s truth! you should be serving the King in the wars, not yourself behind the counter.”

“There are many ways of serving, my lord,” I answered, “by pen and merchandise as well as by steel and shafts.  Now with me it is the turn of the former, though perhaps the ancient sword and the great black bow wait till their time comes again.”

He stared at me and muttered, half to himself: 

“A strange merchant and a grim, as those dead Frenchmen may have thought.  I tell you, Sir Trader, that your talk and the eyes of that tall Moor of yours turn my back cold; it is as though someone walked over my grave.  Come, Blanche, let us begone ere our horses be chilled as I am.  Master Grimmer, or Hastings, you shall hear from me, unless I can do my business otherwise, and for the trinket send me a note at your leisure.”

Then they went, but as the lady Blanche left the shop she caught her robe and turned to free it, while she did so flashing at me one of her sweet looks such as I remembered well.

Kari followed to the door and watched them mount their horses at the gate, then he searched the ground with his eyes.

“What was it hooked her cloak?” I asked.

“A dream, or the air, Master, for there is nothing else to which it could have hung.  Those who would throw spears behind them must first turn round.”

“What think you of those two, Kari?”

“I think that they will not pay for your jewel, but perhaps this was but a bait upon the hook.”

“And what more, Kari?”

“I think that the lady is very fair and false, and that the great lord’s heart is as black as are his eyes.  Also I think that they are dear to each other and well matched.  But it seems that you have met them both before, Master, so you will know better about them than your slave.”

“Yes, I have met them,” I answered sharply, for his words about Blanche angered me, adding, “I have noted, Kari, that you have never a good word for any one whom I favour.  You are jealous-natured, Kari, especially of women.”

“You ask, I answer,” he replied, falling into broken English, as was his fashion when moved, “and it is true that those who have much love, are much jealous.  That is a fault in my people.  Also I love not women.  Now I go make another piece for that which Master give the lady.  Only this time it all snake and no heart.”

He went, taking the tray of jewels with him, and I, too, went to the eating-room to think.