Dame Hilda was there, but she did not scold me. She turned as white as the sindon in her hand, and stood up.

"Dame Agnes, what mean you? Surely 'tis never thus! Holy Mary, shield us!"

And she hurried forth to the oriel window, where Jack was already perched.

The square had grown larger and plainer now. It was evident they were marching straight for the Castle.

Dame Hilda hastened away--I guessed, to confer with Master Inge--and having so done, she came back to the nursery, bade us put aside our sewing and wash our hands, and come down with her to hall. We all trooped after, Beatrice led by her hand, and she ranged us afore her in the great hall, on the dais, standing after our ages,--Kate at the head, then I, Maud, and Jack. And so we awaited our fate.

I scarce think I was frighted. I knew too little what was likely to happen, to feel so. That something was going to happen, I had uncertain fantasy; but our life had been colourless for so long, that the idea of any thing to happen which would make a change was rather agreeable than otherwise.

We heard the last loud summons of the trumpet, which in our ignorance we had mistaken for a hunting-horn, and the trumpeter's cry of "Open to the King's troops!" We heard the portcullis lifted, and the steady tramp of the soldiers as they marched into the court-yard. There was a little parleying outside, and then two officers in the King's livery [Note 1]

came forward into the hall, bowing low to us and Dame Hilda.

The Dame spoke first. "Sir Thomas Gobioun, if I err not?"

"He, and your servant, Dame," answered one of the officers.

"Then I must needs do you to wit, Sir, that in this castle is neither Lord nor Lady, and I trust our Lord the King wars not with little children such as you see here."

"Stale news, good Dame!" answered Sir Thomas, with (as methought) a rather grim smile. "We know something more, I reckon, than you, touching your Lord and Lady. Sir Roger de Mortimer is o'er seas in Normandy, and the Lady Joan at Skipton Castle."

"At Southampton, you surely mean?" said Master Inge, who stood at the other end of the line whereof I made the midmost link.

The knight laughed out. "Nay, worthy Master Inge, I mean not Southampton, but Skipton. 'Tis true, both begin with an _S_, and end with a _p_ and a _ton_; but there is a mile or twain betwixt the places."

"What should my Lady do at Skipton?" saith Dame Hilda.

"Verily, I conceive not this!" saith Master Inge, knitting his brows.

"It was to Southampton my Lady went--at least so she told us."

"Your Lady told you truth, Master Castellan. She set forth for Southampton, and reached it. But ere a fair wind blew for her voyage, came a somewhat rougher gale in the shape of a command from the King's Grace to the Sheriff to take her into keeping, and send her into ward at Skipton Castle, whither she set forth a fortnight past. Now, methinks, Master Inge, you are something wiser than you were a minute gone."

"And our young damsels?" cries Dame Hilda. "Be they also gone to Skipton?"

I felt Kate's hand close tighter upon mine.

"Soft you, now, good Dame!" saith Sir Thomas--who, or I thought so, took it all as a very good joke. "Your damsels be parted in so many as they be, and sent to separate convents,--one to Shuldham, one to Sempringham, and one to Chicksand--and their brothers be had likewise into ward."

To my unspeakable amazement, Dame Hilda burst into tears, and catched up Beatrice in her arms. I had never seen her weep in my life: and a most new and strange idea was taking possession of me--did Dame Hilda actually care something for us?

"Sir," she sobbed, "you will never have the heart to part these babes from all familiar faces, and send them amongst strangers that may use them hardly, to break their baby hearts? Surely the King, that is father of his people, hath never commanded such a thing as that? At the least leave me this little one--or put me in ward with her."

I was beginning to feel frightened now. I looked at Kate, and read in her face that she was as terrified as I was.

"Tut, tut, Dame," saith the other officer (Sir Thomas, it seemed to me, enjoyed the scene, and rather wished to prolong it, but this other was of softer metal), "take not on where is no cause, I pray you. The little ones bide here under your good care. Only, as you may guess, we be commanded to take to the King's use this Castle of Ludlow and all therein, and we charge you--" and he bowed to Dame Hilda, and then to Master Inge--"and you, in the King's name, that you thwart not nor hinder us, in the execution of his pleasure. Have here our commission."

Master Inge took the parchment, and scrutinised it most carefully, while Dame Hilda wiped her eyes and put Beatrice down with a fervent "Bless thee, my jewel!"

Now out bursts Jack, with a big sob that he could contain no longer.

"Does the King want my new ball of string, and my battledores?"

"Certes," answered Sir Thomas: but I saw a twinkle in his eye, though his mouth was as grave as might be.

Jack fell a-blubbering.

"No, no--nonsense!" saith the other officer. "Don't spoil the fun, man!" quoth Sir Thomas. "Fun! it is no fun to these babes," answered the other. "I've a little lad at home, and this mindeth me of him. I cannot bear to see a child cry--and for no cause!--Nay, my little one,"

saith he to Jack, "all in this Castle now belongs to the King, as aforetime to thy father: but thy father took not thy b.a.l.l.s and battledores from thee, nor will he. Cheer up, for thou hast nought to fear."

"Please, Sir," saith Kate, "shall all our brothers and sisters be made monks and nuns, whether they like or no?"

Sir Thomas roared with laughter. His comrade saith gently, "Nay, my little damsel, the King's will is not so. It is but that they shall be kept safe there during his pleasure."

"And will they get any dinner and supper?" saith Maud.

"Plenty!" he answered: "and right good learning, and play in the convent garden at recreation-time, with such other young damsels as shall be bred up there. They will be merry as crickets, I warrant."

Kate fetched a great sigh of relief. She told me afterwards that she had felt quite sure we should every one of us be had to separate convents, and never see each other any more.

So matters dropped down again into their wonted course. For over two years, our mother tarried at Skipton, and then she was moved into straiter ward at Pomfret, about six weeks only [Note 2] before Queen Isabel landed with her alien troops under Sir John of Ostrevant, and drave King Edward first from his throne, and finally from this life.

Our father came with her. And this will I say, that our mother might have been set free something earlier [Note 3], if every body had done his duty. But folks are not much given to doing their duties, so far as I can see. They are as ready as you please to contend for their rights--which generally seems to mean, "Let me have somebody else's rights;" ay, they will get up a battle for that at short notice: but who ever heard of a man pet.i.tioning, much less fighting, for the right to do his duty? And yet is not that, really and verily, the only right a man has?

It was a gala day for us when our mother returned home, and our brothers and sisters were gathered and sent back to us. Nym (always a little given to romance) drew heart-rending pictures of his utter misery, while in ward; but Roger said it was not so bad, setting aside that it was prison, and we were parted from one another. And Geoffrey, the sensible boy of the family, said that while he would not like a monk's life on the whole, being idle and useless, yet he did like the quiet and peacefulness of it.

"But I am not secure," said our mother, "that such quiet is what G.o.d would for us, saving some few. Soldiers be not bred by lying of a bed of rose-leaves beside scented waters. And I think the soldiers of Christ will scarce be taught o' that fashion."

Diverse likewise were the maids' fantasies. Meg said she would not have bidden at Shuldham one day longer than she was forced. Joan said she liked not ill at Sempringham, only for being alone. But Isabel, as she sat afore the fire with me on her lap, the even of her coming home-- Isabel had ever petted me--and Dame Hilda asked her touching her life at Chicksand--Isabel said, gazing with a far-away look into the red ashes--

"I shall go back to Chicksand, some day, if I may win leave of mine elders."

"Why, Dame Isabel!" quoth Dame Hilda in some surprise. "Liked you so well as that?"

"Ay, I liked well," she said, in that dreamy fashion. "Not that I did not miss you all, Dame; and in especial my babe here,--who is no longer a babe"--and she smiled down at me. "And verily, I could see that sins be not shut out by convent walls, but rather shut in. Yet--"

"Ay?" said Dame Hilda when she stayed. I think she wanted to make her talk.

"I scarce know how to say it," quoth she. "But it seemed to me that for those who would have it so, Satan was shut in with them, and pleasure was shut out. And also, for those who would have it so, G.o.d was shut in with them, and snares and temptations--some of them--were shut out.

Only some: but it was something to be rid of them. If it were possible to have only those who wanted to shut out the world, and to shut themselves in with G.o.d! That is the theory: and that would be Heaven on earth. But it does not work in practice."

"Yet you would fain return thither?" said Dame Hilda.

Isabel looked into the fire and answered not, until she said, all suddenly, "Dame Hilda, be there two of you, or but one?"

"Truly, Dame Isabel, I take not your meaning."

"Ah!" saith she; "then is there but one of you. If so, you cannot conceive me. Thou dost, Ellen?"

"Ay, Dame Isabel, that do I, but too well."