“I fear me thou hast fallen in evil company, Etienne. 'T will go ill with thee if aught befal me.”
But Stephen had turned away and louted low before the clerk.
“Sir, since that day you gave me entertainment in your house I have many time related mine adventure to the Prince Richard, the puissant and noble. It is the tale he most delighteth in. I have likewise read to him from the Vision; there be parts he much affecteth. These several months he will give madame his mother no peace, but he will see your daughter, and hear from her lips concerning the poor, and the manner of her life.”
“Wherefore my daughter?” asked Langland.
“I—I—sir, I have spoke of your daughter, she is very fair. The Prince, who is walled about with tapestry and richesse, he hath desired to see one, like himself young, who knoweth not these things. To-day, for the old King afar in his manor is mayhap at death's door, and the gentlemen of our household are much occupied, the Prince hath got his way with madame. She is a most gentle lady and a true mother. She sendeth this, her waiting-woman, to bring the maiden safe to the palace.”
Long Will sunk his chin in his breast, and mused, the while the waiting-woman stood with her skirts upgathered off the floor. Then he lifted up his head and called:—
“Calote!—Calote!—Kitte!”
And presently there was a sound of pattering overhead, and down an outside stair, and the two came in from the alley.
“Here 's a message for Calote,” said her father shortly. “She is bidden to Kennington Palace.”
Kitte, just risen from a deep curtsey before the fine lady, showed more of consternation than joy in her visage; but the little maid caught Will's hand in both of hers and cried:—