`` Overbold , '' said Hugh . `` Hearken here , '' and he read : `` Upon the Feast of St Agatha , our Lord of Pevensey , lying in his upper chamber , being clothed in his second fur gown reversed with rabbit -- '' ' `` Pest on him ! He is not my tire-woman ! '' said De Aquila , and Hugh and I laughed . ' `` Reversed with rabbit , seeing a fog over the marshes , did wake Sir Richard Dalyngridge , his drunken cup-mate '' -LRB- here they laughed at me -RRB- `` and said , ` Peer out , old fox , for God is on the Duke of Normandy 's side . '' ' ' `` So did I . It was a black fog . Robert could have landed ten thousand men , and we none the wiser . Does he tell how we were out all day riding the Marsh , and how I near perished in a quicksand , and coughed like a sick ewe for ten days after ? '' cried De Aquila . ' `` No , '' said Hugh . `` But here is the prayer of Gilbert himself to his master Fulke . '' ' `` Ah , '' said De Aquila . `` Well I knew it was Fulke . What is the price of my blood ? '' ' `` Gilbert prayeth that when our Lord of Pevensey is stripped of his lands on this evidence which Gilbert hath , with fear and pains , collected -- '' ' `` Fear and pains is a true word , '' said De Aquila , and sucked in his cheeks . `` But how excellent a weapon is a pen ! I must learn it . '' ' `` He prays that Fulke will advance him from his present service to that honour in the Church which Fulke promised him . And lest Fulke should forget , he has written below , ` To be Sacristan of Battle ' . ''
` At this De XXXXX whistled .
Agatha Aquila Battle Fulke Gilbert Hearken Hugh Pevensey days quicksand