"Thronging the castle-yard was a crowd of servants and retainers."
On this occasion, however, these gentry were somewhat disappointed to find that the expected guests were to be grave judges and churchmen. The beggars, indeed, ranged themselves into position to ask for alms in the name of religion, but the minstrels and the jugglers felt themselves de trop. Finding their entertainments unacceptable to the guests, they betook themselves to an audience of grooms and varlets in the castle-yard.
The ancient seneschal of the castle, moving through the various groups, his keys of office jingling at his side, remarked a swarthy man of considerable height and size, who was evidently not connected with the Saxon peasants around him. He was wrapped in a long, large cloak.
"So ho, friend! and whence comest thou?" asked the seneschal.
The nondescript stranger answered him in French; not in the Norman-French which his interlocutor could easily have followed, but in a dialect imperfectly known to the worthy head of the household of Lord Lisle.
"I come from distant lands, noble seneschal. I chant love-lays to fair ladies' ears."
"We have e'en no ladies here anon," replied the functionary gruffly, "naught but abbots and justices. So get thee gone!"
At the mention of the word "justices" a momentary gleam of satisfaction passed over the swarthy face of the stranger.
"Justices, good my lord seneschal?" he repeated.
"Yea, justices," retorted the seneschal, not noting the look. "Art deaf, man? My lord the king's justices who travel towards Dunstable. Did you jongleurs expect a bevy of giddy damsels and young gallants?"