Since her father's departure, Dora had held the reins of government, and held them, too, with a firmer hand than Master Peter had done.
In a couple of weeks she had made the sleepy governor, if not active, at least less dilatory; the men-at-arms had been well drilled by himself and Talabor, and the serving men and women had been bewitched into some degree of orderliness.
News of her father she neither had nor expected. Probably she would hear nothing until he came or sent for her. She knew nothing positively as to what was taking place outside, though the servants from time to time picked up fragments of news in the villages, so contradictory as to convey little real information. But the air, even in this out-of-the-way region, was full of rumour and presentiment, which affected different characters in different ways, but had the general result of making all more careful than usual.
Without being in the least alarmed, Talabor was one who showed himself particularly circumspect at this time; and, as if he had some sort of instinct that trouble might be at hand, he gradually got into the way of helping the seneschal in all that he had to do. And his assistance, though uncalled for, was most welcome to the poor man, who felt a good deal burthened, now that he had to bestir himself to greater speed than was his wont.
Some of the servants liked Talabor for his unpresuming ways, resolution, and courage, while the rest sought to curry favour with him because the young clerk was evidently in the master's good graces, and they believed him to be a power in consequence.
By degrees, and without even noticing it, Talabor quite took the governor's place. The servants, being accustomed to receive their orders from him, and to go to him in all difficulties, finding moreover that Talabor was always ready with an answer and never at a loss what to do, while the old seneschal forgot more than he remembered, soon almost overlooked the latter and put him on one side.
Even Dora, who was perhaps more distant with Talabor now than she had ever been before, came at last to giving her orders to him, instead of to the governor. And the governor, finding himself thus in the shade, would now and then suddenly awake and become jealous for the preservation of his authority, and at such times would seize the reins with ludicrous haste, while Talabor would as quickly take up again the part of a subordinate.
Such was the state of affairs when the governor and Talabor were sitting together one evening in a tolerably large room occupied by the former.
On the table before them were a good sized pewter pot and drinking cups to match. The two had been talking for some time. The governor was looking as if he had been annoyed about something, and Talabor could not be said to look cheerful either, in fact, he had rarely been seen to smile since Master Peter's departure. He missed him greatly, for latterly, as long as he was at home, Peter had often had the young man with him in the evenings, when the candles were lighted, or when a blazing fire supplied the place of tallow and wax, these latter being still considered luxuries.
Master Peter possessed a few books which he greatly valued—a copy of his favourite Ovid, and a Bible, for which he had given a village and a half, besides one or two others. He made Talabor read to him from all in turn; and often by way of variety, he had long conversations with him, and told him stories of his hunting adventures.