Amphillis knew in her heart that she was an exceedingly bad hand at that business; but she was accustomed to do as she was told, and accordingly she said no more. She was relieved to find the Countess asleep, the cry for admission not having been loud enough to wake her. She sat down and waited.
Perrote, meanwhile, had gone down into the hall, where Lady Foljambe sat at work with Agatha. Sir Godfrey was seated before the fire, at which he pointed a pair of very straight and very lengthy legs; his hands were in his pockets, and his look conveyed neither contentment nor benevolence. In a recess of the window sat young Matthew, whistling softly to himself as he stroked a hawk upon his gloved wrist, while his brother Godfrey stood at another window, looking out, with his arms upon the sill. The only person who noticed Perrote’s entrance was Agatha, and she pulled a little face by way of relief to her feelings. Lady Foljambe worked on in silence.
“Sir,” said Perrote, addressing herself to the master of the house, “Phyllis tells me a party be making hither, that she hath seen from the window; and under your good pleasure, I reckon, from what the maid saw, that it be my Lord’s Grace of Bretagne and his meynie.”
Sir Godfrey struggled to his feet with an exclamation of surprise. His elder son turned round from the window; the younger said, “Ha, jolife! Now, Gille, go on thy perch, sweet heart!” and set the falcon on its perch. Agatha’s work went down in a moment. Lady Foljambe alone seemed insensible to the news. At the same moment, the great doors at the end of the hall were flung open, and the seneschal, with a low bow to his master and mistress, cried—
“Room for the Duke’s Grace of Brittany!”
As the new arrivals entered the hall, Lady Basset came in from the opposite end. The Duke, a fine, rather stern-looking man, strode forward until he reached the daïs where the family sat; and then, doffing his crowned helmet, addressed himself to Sir Godfrey Foljambe.
“Sir, I give you good even. King Edward your Lord greets you by me, and bids you give good heed to that which you shall find herein.”
At a motion from the Duke, quick and peremptory, one of his knights stepped forth and delivered the royal letter.
Sir Godfrey took it into his hands with a low reverence, and bade his seneschal fetch Father Jordan, without whose assistance it was impossible for him to ascertain his Sovereign’s bidding.
Father Jordan hastened in, cut the silken string, and read the letter.