human
You, my White Knight? said the Prince, touching Kit on the arm.
gpt
Are you touched? No more than the gash across your cheek? I’m glad of that. Captain Roger Nowell here tells me that I should be lying toes up to the sky if your pike had not been handled nicely. For my part, I saw nothing but Roundhead faces leering at me through a crimson mist.
human
You are of the Nowells of Reed Hall?
gpt
I am, sir—a queer, hot-headed lot, but I’m one of them.
human
My nurse reared me on tales of what your folk did in days gone by. And at Lathom they told me of your sorties. Sir, they thought you dead in your last effort to break through the lines, to bring relief in. They will be glad.