Ednoth was advancing upon Richard, sword in hand…. There was a sudden hush, an awestruck murmur.
"Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot!"
"Hold your hands, in the Name of God and of His holy Church!" cried an imperious voice.
Ednoth lowered his sword; the thanes uncovered their heads; many cowered, some stared resentfully; some slipped away in the tracks of the vanished cattle; the women fell on their knees. From the market-place came the Abbot of Leominster upon his fat white nag, with his chaplains and his retinue of men-at-arms riding behind him.
"Ednoth of Moor, what would ye?" he demanded, flourishing the parchment roll that he carried in his bejewelled right hand.
"Wherefore is the market all-to-wrecked? Would ye work murder upon harmless Ricardus here?"
"Lord," said Ednoth, "here is a Frenchman who by craft sucketh the wealth from our land. Witanagemot is for putting an end to all such."
"Indeed—and, Ednoth, art thou Witanagemot? Thou art too rash—ye are sadly unbridled, folk of Ludford. Hear the truth from me. There are surely many foreigners, Normans of the King's mother's people, who do craftily suck the wealth of England, and who bear not themselves truly towards blessed Edward our King; and Godwin and his Great Gemot have decreed that such shall go forth whither they came and leave the sway of England to Englishmen. But are there not some Normans, worthy fellows, whom no man could wish ill? Richard who dwells at Overton—has he not lived fifteen years among you, in good repute? In all Herefordshire is there no better dealer in corn and cattle: from Shrewsbury to Hereford is none more learned in the laws of English and of Welsh—none who can write a fairer hand—none of readier wit or smoother tongue: he hath been great help to me; how shall I spare him? Shall they bereave me of Ricardus? said I. I knelt before the King; I reasoned with stern Godwin; and ere I left London both had promised me my will. Yesterday the sheriff sent to me anent the outgoing of the French; and I have ridden since dawn, seeking Ricardus, that I might show him how Holy Church rewardeth goodwill for goodwill. Hugolin bideth about King Edward, they tell me, and Robert the Staller—they are faithful servants; as for the others, one Dumfrey—some outlandish name!… Hah! I have the sheriff's writing…. 'Banished be they all beyond seas, but Humfrey's Cocksfoot and Richard the Scrob.'"
Richard bent to kiss the Abbot's ring.
"Children, go your ways," the prelate continued, "with our blessing upon you. I rede you repent of your rashness. Ye are not robbers and rioters—no, but law-abiding English. Ricardus, come to me to-morrow morning: I have much to talk over with thee." So saving, he signed to his attendants, and ambled away.