“Did? Marry, little cousin, I rade down to Norwich House, and played a good hour at the cards with my Lord’s Grace of Norwich; and then I lay me down on the settle and gat me a nap; and after spices served, I turned back to Westminster, and did her Grace to wit that it were rare cold riding from Hackney.”
“Is your Grace yet shriven sithence, Uncle?” inquired young Richard rather comically.
“The very next morrow, lad, my said Lord of Norwich the confessor. I bare it but a night, nor it did me not no disease in sleeping.”
“Maybe it should take a heavy sin to do that, fair Uncle,” said Isabel with a sneer.
“What wist, such a chick as thou?” returned York, holding out his goblet to the dispenser of Malvoisie.
A little lower down the table, Sir Bertram Lyngern and Master Hugh Calverley were discussing less serious subjects in a more sober and becoming manner.
“Truly, our new King hath well begun,” said Hugh. “My Lord of March is released of his prison, and shall be wed this next summer to the Lady Anne of Stafford, and his sister the Lady Alianora unto my Lord of Devon his son; and all faithful friends and servants of King Richard be set in favour; and ’tis rumoured about the Court that your Lady shall receive confirmation of every of his father’s grants made unto her.”
“I trust it shall so be verily,” said Bertram.
“And further yet,” pursued Hugh, slightly dropping his voice, “’tis said that the King considereth to take unto the Crown great part of the moneys and lands of the Church.”
“Surely no!”