"Oh, you rabbit!" the trooper jeered, and caught at Osmund's
throat, shaking him. In the act this rascal tore open Messire Heleigh's
tunic, disclosing a thin chain about his neck and a handsome locket,
which the fellow wrested from its fastening. "Ahoi!" he continued.
"Ahoi, my comrades, what sort of minstrel is this, who goes about
England all hung with gold like a Cathedral Virgin! He and his
sweetheart"--the actual word was grosser--"will be none the worse for an
interview with the Marquess."
The situation smacked of awkwardness, because Lord Falmouth was familiar
with the Queen, and to be brought specifically to his attention meant
death for two detected masqueraders. Hastily Osmund Heleigh said:
"Messire, the locket contains the portrait of a lady whom in my youth I
loved very greatly. Save to me, it is valueless. I pray you, do not rob
me of it."
But the trooper shook his head with drunken solemnity. "I do not like
the looks of this. Yet I will sell it to you, as the saying is, for a
song."
"It shall be the king of songs," said Osmund,--"the song that Arnaut
Daniel first made.
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