Shall I swear it ? '' ' `` No need , '' said De Aquila , and he laid his hand on the parchments which Gilbert had written . `` It shall be some part of my Gilbert 's penance to copy out the savoury tale of thy life , till we have made ten , twenty , an hundred , maybe , copies . How many cattle , think you , would the Bishop of Tours give for that tale ? Or thy brother ? Or the Monks of Blois ? Minstrels will turn it into songs which thy own Saxon serfs shall sing behind their plough-stilts , and men-at-arms riding through thy Norman towns . From here to Rome , Fulke , men will make very merry over that tale , and how Fulke told it , hanging in a well , like a drowned puppy . This shall be thy punishment , if ever I find thee double-dealing with thy King any more . Meantime , the parchments stay here with thy son . Him I will return to thee when thou hast made my peace with the King . The parchments never . '' ` Fulke hid his face and groaned . ' `` Bones of the Saints ! '' said De Aquila , laughing . `` The pen cuts deep . I could never have fetched that grunt out of thee with any sword . '' ' `` But so long as I do not anger thee , my tale will be secret ? '' said Fulke . ' `` Just so long .
Does that comfort thee , XXXXX ? ''
Aquila Blois Fulke Gilbert King Norman Saxon drowned men-at-arms parchments