The letter, I repeat,
suited this smirking gentleman in its tiniest syllable, and the single
difficulty was to convey it to John Copeland, for as to his
whereabouts neither Neville nor any one else had the least notion.
This was immaterial, however, for they narrate that next day a letter
signed with John Copeland's name was found pinned to the front of
Neville's tent. I cite a passage therefrom: "I will not give up my
royal prisoner to a woman or a child, but only to my own lord, Sire
Edward, for to him I have sworn allegiance, and not to any woman. Yet
you may tell the Queen she may depend on my taking excellent care of
King David. I have poulticed his nose, as she directed."
Here was a nonplus, not without its comical side. Two great realms had
met in battle, and the king of one of them had vanished like a
soap-bubble. Philippa was in a rage,--you could see that both by her
demeanor and by the indignant letters she dictated; true, none of
these letters could be delivered, since they were all addressed to
John Copeland.
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