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so.”
    â€œWhat are proverbs?”
    â€œSayings to teach a young man knowledge and understanding.”
    â€œExactly,” said Oliver. “And the two are not the same, are they. First we learn a fact, then we learn what that fact means.”
    â€œSerle is my brother,” I said.
    â€œThat is a fact.”
    â€œAnd my brother means different things: unkind as well as kind; enemy and friend.”
    â€œAnd that is an understanding,” said Oliver.
    â€œSerle says second sons matter less than firstborn,” I continued.
    â€œThat is not true,” said Oliver, and he puffed himself up, as a cock robin does after his dust bath. “No, that’s not true at all. Some of us are men and some are women. Some of us are firstborn and some of us are not. In fact, most of us are not! But it doesn’t matter. Men or women, firstborn or not, we are all equal in God’s eyes.”
    â€œYou’ve told me that before,” I said, “but it can’t be true. A few people in this manor are rich but most are poor. A few have plenty to eat, but most have almost nothing. That’s not equal.”
    â€œRemember the Book,” said Oliver. “‘The poor are with you always.’ Yes, Arthur, they always have been and they always will be. That’s how things are. Poverty is part of God’s will.”
    â€œHow can it be?”
    â€œWe need a king, don’t we: to rule over us?”
    â€œNot King John, my father says.”
    â€œThe country needs a king to rule over it, and the king needs Lord Stephen and his other earls and lords. Lord Stephen needs your father, Sir John, and all his other knights. And your father needs the men and women in this manor to plow and sow and reap. It is God’s will.”
    â€œBut it is not equal,” I repeated.
    â€œArthur,” said Oliver, “one boy may have more talents than another, but a good father should not love him more because of that. He should love all his children equally. That is how it is with God. We are all equal in God’s eyes. Now! All this chatter! It’s time you started your reading.”
    Then Oliver lurched across the vestry, pulling his greasy keythong over his head. No! He never has to worry where his next meal is coming from; he always has plenty to eat, even if it is mainly oatmeal porridge and pease pottage; and he has his own land, and everyone has to give him a tenth of their crops and their chicks and lambs.
    Oliver turned the key in the creaking chest, and took out the Bible. “In the name of King Richard,” he said, “your reading is the twentieth psalm. The twentieth psalm and then the twenty-first psalm.”
    â€œâ€˜We will wave our banners,’” I began to read in Latin, and then to translate, “‘in the name of God. Some men trust their horses and some their chariots: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God. We trample our enemies: They lie in the dust, but we rise and stand upright.’”
    â€œYou see?” said Oliver. “If you’re going to fight, horses and chariots are all very well. Horses and chariots are necessary, but they’re not enough. King Richard knows that. That’s why he defeated Saladin at Arsuf. That’s why he has saved for us the kingdom of Jerusalem.”
    â€œBut doesn’t Saladin worship God too?” I asked. “Don’t Saracens worship God?”
    â€œThey worship a false prophet,” said Oliver. “They’re not true believers. Saracens are infidels.”
    â€œSir William says that’s what Saracens call Christians,” I replied. “Infidels!”
    Oliver snorted. “They don’t understand the Book. They don’t even read it.”
    â€œAren’t Saracens and Christians equal in the eyes of God then?”
    â€œThey are not!” said Oliver. “Of course they’re not! In the eyes of God, all Christian people are