"Beshrew me, Nephew Ralph," said his uncle, "if I wot what to make of this talk of thine of fighting against the northern savages, when savages far worse hold the castle of thy fathers."
Ralph had been holding forth to his seniors upon the duty of a young knight taking up his country's quarrels and joining his sovereign's army.
"Ay," rejoined the lord of Eaton Socon, an elderly man, "were I but of thy age and strength, with my gilded spurs newly girt upon my heels, I would never throw myself away on this mad Scottish scheme--craving his majesty's pardon, if indeed so be that our young king favours it--whilst there lacked not an excuse for the placing myself at the head of bold men who would rally to the cry of 'A De Beauchamp! a De Beauchamp!'"
"And, Cousin Ralph," whispered one of his uncle's married daughters, for some of the ladies of the family were present, "they tell me there is one in Bedford Castle with whom thou wouldest fain splinter lances, were he but worthy to meet thee in knightly combat!"
Something of William de Breauté's visit to Bletsoe, and of his reception there by Aliva, had evidently leaked out.
Ralph shook his head dismally. For the time being he was that most unhappy individual, a wet blanket to all around him, a despondent lover.
"Come now, coz," continued the Lady Mabel, "if our reverend elders will dismiss us from attendance at this table, we young folk will out on to the castle walls and take a turn. Kinsfolk do not often gather together in these days, at least in our family, and thou knowest I have not forgotten old times in Bedford Castle, even though I have formed new ties. Blood is thicker than water."
It was early afternoon. The mid-day meal, which took place at the then fashionably late hour of noon, was just over. Ralph could not refuse the invitation of his fair cousin, who had been to him as a sister in his boyhood. So, with due obeisance to the others, the pair quitted the hall, leaving their elders deep in talk over old times, and the departed glories of the house of Beauchamp, and the days of Hugo, the Conqueror's favourite.
In truth, Ralph was not sorry to have a confidant to whom he could confide his troubles. For the last few weeks both he and his uncle William had been but melancholy guests at Eaton Socon, despite the efforts of their cheery old kinsman to rouse them. William de Beauchamp was naturally a taciturn, reserved man, and the loss of his affianced bride, followed by the loss of his ancestral castle and domains, had further increased the gloom of his character. His uncle's depression, of course, added to Ralph's low spirits.
"And now, fair coz," said Lady Mabel, linking her arm in Ralph's, as they passed up a flight of stone steps leading to a walk on the top of the encircling wall behind the battlements, "thou art to talk to me of somewhat else than this Scottish war, or even the battering down of Bedford Castle about the ears of that dear friend of our family, Fulke de Breauté. Nay, seek not to deny it. I can see by thy face that thou hast somewhat to tell me, and perchance I have somewhat to tell thee."