“Our Lord High King,” John de Redvers said bowing slightly. The pain in his shoulder prevented him from exerting his body too strenuously.
“Prithee, come and sit with us, Earl of Devon,” King Edward III invited, opening his palm to the ornately carved chair by the desk he was using. “Thy wound still pains thee?”
“Yea,” John acknowledged rubbing his shoulder.
“King Edward sat back against his chair, “Thee art getting to old for battle we fear.”
“Yea,” John agreed and cast the king a wry smile. “At least some battles.”
“We refer to war with France,” King Edward chortled. “Thee be a fine and noble knight, Sir John.”
“Thank you my Lord King,” John replied graciously.