The last day's journey had come. The escort who had acted as guides were in familiar fields and lanes, and one, the leader, rode up to Lady Anne and pointed to the grey outline among the trees of her home, while he sent the other to hurry forward and announce her.

Anne shivered a little, and Hal kept close to her. He had made the journey on foot, because he had chosen to be reckoned among Musgrave's archers till he had received full knightly training; and, besides, he had more freedom to attach himself to Anne's bridle rein, and be at hand to help through difficult pa.s.sages. Now he came up close to her, and she held out her hand. He pressed it warmly.

'You will not forget?'

'Never, never! That red rose in the snow--I have the leaf in my breviary. And Goodwife Dolly, tell her I'll never forget how she cosseted the wildered lamb.'

'Poor Mother Dolly, when shall I see her?'

'Oh! you will be able to have her to share your state, and Watch too! I take none with me.'

'If we are all in King Harry's cause, there will be hope of meeting, and then if--'

'Ah! I see a horseman coming! Is it my father?'

It was a horseman who met them, taking off his cap of maintenance and bowing low to the Prioress and the young lady, but it was the seneschal of the castle, not the father whom Anne so dreaded, but an old gentleman, Walter Wenlock, with whom there was a greeting as of an old friend. My lord had gone with the Earl of Warwick to Queen Margaret in France, and had sent a messenger with a letter to meet his daughter at York, and tell her to go to the house of the Poor Clares in London instead of coming home, 'and there await him.'

The route that had been taken by the party accounted for their not having met the messenger and it was plain that they must go on to London. The evening was beginning to draw in, and a night's lodging was necessary. Anne a.s.sumed a little dignity.

'My good friends who have guarded me, I hope you will do me the honour to rest for the night in my father's castle.'

The seneschal bowed acquiescence, but the poor man was evidently sorely perplexed by such an extensive invitation on the part of his young lady on his peace establishment, though the Prioress did her best to a.s.sist Anne to set him at ease. 'Here is Sir Giles Musgrave, the Lord of Peelholm on the Borders, a staunch friend of King Harry, with a band of stout archers, and this gentleman from the north is with him.' (It had been agreed that the Clifford name should not be mentioned till the way had been felt with Warwick, one of whose cousins had been granted the lands of the Black Lord Clifford.)

The seneschal bent before Musgrave courteously, saying he was happy to welcome so good and brave a knight, and he prayed his followers to excuse if their fare was scant and homely, being that he was unprovided for the honour.

'No matter, sir,' returned Musgrave; 'we are used to soldiers' fare.'

'And,' proceeded Anne, 'Master Lorimer must lie here, and his wains.'

'Master Lorimer,' said the Prioress, 'with whom belike--Lorimer of Barnet--Sir Seneschal has had dealings,' and she put forward the merchant, who had been falling back to his waggon.

'Yea,' said Walter Wenlock frankly, holding out his hand. 'We have bought your wares and made proof of them, good sir. I am glad to welcome you, though I never saw you to the face before.'

'Great thanks, good seneschal. All that I would ask would be licence for my wains to stand in your court to-night while my fellows and I sup and lodge at the hostel.'

The hospitality of Bletso could not suffer this, and both Anne and the seneschal were urgent that all should remain, Wenlock reflecting that if the store for winter consumption were devoured, even to the hog waiting to be killed, he could obtain fresh supplies from the tenants, so he ushered all into the court, and summoned steward, cooks, and scullions to do their best. It was not a castle, only a castellated house, which would not have been capable of long resistance in time of danger, but the court and stables gave ample accommodation for the animals and the waggons, and the men were bestowed in the great open hall, reaching to the top of the house, where all would presently sup.

In the meantime the seneschal conducted the ladies and their two attendants to a tiny chamber, where an enormous bed was being made ready by the steward's wife and her son, and in which all four ladies would sleep, the Prioress and Anne one way, the other two foot to foot with them! They had done so before, so were not surprised, and the lack of furniture was a matter of course. Their mails were brought up, a pitcher of water and a bowl, and they made their preparations for supper. Anne was in high spirits at the dreaded meeting, and still more dreaded parting, having been deferred, and she skipped about the room, trying to gather up her old recollections. 'Yes, I remember that bit of tapestry, and the man that stands there among the sheep. Is it King David, think you, Mother, about to throw his stone at the lion and the bear?'

'Lion and bear, child! 'Tis the three G.o.ddesses and Paris choosing the fairest to give the golden apple.'

'Methought that was the lion's mane, but I see a face.'

'What would the Lady Venus say to have her golden locks taken for a lion's mane?'

'I like black hair,' said Anne.

'Better not fix thy mind on any hue! We poor women have no choice save what fathers make for us.'

'O good my mother, peace! They are all in France, and there's no need to spoil this breathing time with thinking of what is coming! Good old Wenlock! I used to ride on his shoulder! I'm right glad to see him again! I must tell him in his ear to put Hal well above the salt! May not I tell him in his ear who he is?'

'Safer not, my maid, till we know what King Harry can do for him. Better that his name should not get abroad till he can have his own.'

A great bell brought all down, and Anne was pleased to see that her seneschal made no question about placing Harry Clifford beside the Prioress, who sat next to the Lord of Peelholm, who sat next to the young daughter of the house in the seat of honour.

The nuns, Master Lorimer, and one of the archers, who was a Border squire, besides Master Wenlock, occupied the high table on the dais, and the archers, grooms, and the rest of the household were below.

The fare was not scanty nor unsubstantial, but evidently hastily prepared, being chiefly broiled slices of beef, on which salting had begun; but there was a lack of bread, even of barley, though there was no want of drink.

However, the Prioress was good-humoured, and forestalled all excuses by jests about travellers' meals and surprises in the way of guests, and both she and Sir Giles were anxious for Wenlock's news of the state of things.

He knew much more of the course of affairs than they in their northern homes and on their journey.

'The realm is divided,' he said. 'Those who hold to King Harry, as you gentles do, are in high joy, but there be many, spoken with respect, who cannot face about so fast, and hold still for York, though they mislike the Queen's kindred. Of such are the merchantmen of London.'

'Is it so?' asked Lorimer. 'If King Edward be as deep in debt to them as to me for housings and bridle reins methinks he should not be in good odour in their nostrils.'

'Yea,' said Wenlock, 'but if he be gone a beggar to Burgundy what becomes of their debt?'

'I would not give much for it were he restored a score of times,' said the Prioress. 'What would he do but plunge deeper?'

'There would be hope, though, of getting an order on the royal demesne, or the crown jewels, or the taxes,' said Lorimer. 'Nay, I hold one even now that will be but waste if he come not back.'

'And this poor King spendeth nothing save on priests and ma.s.ses,' said Wenlock.

Hal started forward, eager to hear of his King, and Musgrave said, 'A holy man is he.'

'Too holy for a King,' said the seneschal. 'He looked like a woolsack across a horse when my Lord of Warwick led him down Cheapside; and only the rabble cried out "Long live King Harry!" but some scoffed and said they saw a mere gross monk with a baby face where they had been wont to see a comely prince full of manhood, with a sword instead of beads.'

'His son will please them,' said Musgrave. 'He was a goodly child, full of spirit, when last I saw him.'

'If so be he have not too much of the Frenchwoman, his mother, in him,'

said Wenlock. 'A losing lot, as poor as any rats, and as proud as very peac.o.c.ks.'

'She was gracious enough and won all hearts on the Border,' replied Musgrave.

'Come, come!' put in the Prioress, 'you may have the chance yet to break a lance on her behalf. No fear but she is royal enough to shine down King Edward's low-born love, the Widow Grey!'

'Ay, there lay the cause of discontent,' said Lorimer; 'the upstart ways of her kin were not to be borne. To hear d.i.c.k Woodville chaffer about the blazoning of his horse-gear when he was wedding the fourscore-year-old d.u.c.h.ess of Norfolk, one would have thought he was an emperor at the very least.'

'Widow Grey has done something for her husband's cause,' said the seneschal, 'in bringing him at last a fair son, all in his exile, and she in sanctuary at Westminster. The London citizens are ever touched through all the fat about their hearts by whatever would sound well in the mouth of a ballad-monger.'

'My King, my King, what of him?' sighed Hal in the Prioress's ear, and she made the inquiry for him: 'What said you of King Henry, Sir Seneschal? How did he fare in his captivity?'

'Not so ill, methinks,' said the seneschal. 'He had the range of the Tower, and St. Peter's in the Fetters to pray in, which was what he heeded most; also he had a messan dog, and a tame bird. Indeed, men said he had laid on much flesh since he had been mewed up there; and my lord, who went with my Lord of Warwick to fetch him, said his garments were scarce so cleanly as befitted. 'Twas hard to make him understand. First he clasped his hands, and bowed his head, crying out that he forgave those who came to slay him, and when he found it was all the other way, he stood like one dazed, let his hand be kissed, and they say is still in the hands of my Lord Archbishop of York just as if he were the waxen image of St. John in a procession.'

'The Earl and the Queen will have to do the work,' said the Prioress, 'and they will no more hold together than a couple of wild hawks will hunt in company. How long do you give them to tear out one another's eyes?'