human
The young Mecca for the King—the White Knight for the King!
gpt
My thanks, gentlemen, he said.
human
Be pleased to nickname me. For my part, I feel like the ass Michael rode to York—patient and long-suffering, but no knight at all.
gpt
How did Michael ride to York?
human
Good, Mr. Metcalf, said Lady Derby.
gpt
I have not laughed since my lord rode out, until to-day. Where is this Michael who rode to York?
human
With the rest of the good Metcalfs, said Rupert.
gpt
I left the whole fine brood to guard Lathom from without. They go north with me in two days’ time. You shall see them—six-score on their white horses.
human
Why the cloud on your face, Prince?
gpt
There are only five-score now. When we counted our dead at Bolton, there were some gallant Metcalfs lying face upward to their God.