The interior of the hall was a large low oak-panelled room, with a wide fireplace on one side. Antlers, spears, bows, and bills were hung or fixed all along the walls, and a few skins of red deer and other wild animals lay about on the stone floor. Ralph crossed the hall, and went down a low dark passage. He paused at a little oak door, and tapped.
"Come in," said a lady's voice, and Ralph entered joyously.
"Oh, mother, look! She's a hawk fit for the emperor. Thank thee, father, thank thee; 'tis the best gift thou couldst have chosen!" And the boy went up to the large armchair, in which an old man was sitting, clad in a long robe of fur, while opposite to him was standing his wife, the Dame Isabel de Lisle.
"Ay, my son, so thou art right joyous, art thou? Well, and that's e'en as it should be. Thou art growing a stout lad, and 'tis time to be thinking of thy after life. I would fain have ye all started in the world, before God sees fit to call me to him; and methinks 'twill not be long now."
"Why, father, what ails thee, that thou talkest thus dolefully?" said Ralph, his ardour damped by the tone of his father's remarks.
"Nay, child," said his mother, stroking the glossy, waving hair of her son, who had doffed his cap the moment he entered his parents' presence, "nay, child, 'tis naught but the old wound thy father hath gotten at Barnet grieveth him to-night."
"May-be, may-be, fair wife," said the old knight, who always called his lady "fair," although she was certainly considerably past the age when any claims to fairness might reasonably be supposed to have been surrendered; but in his eyes she was always fair. "Perchance 'tis naught; but my mind misgiveth me, and I would fain talk gravely to my sons to-night. If God wills that I should live, well and good--if not, well and good too; leastways, I shall have settled matters aright before I go hence."
"But, father, thou hast not looked at my falcon that thou gavest me. See what a long hawk it is; and what a gay lune Brother Anselm hath put on it."
"Ay, marry, fair son, 'tis a fine bird, and will spring a partridge rarely, I'll venture. Thou must fly her to-morrow--there's many a gagylling of geese, or sord of mallards, down Chute Forest way."
"Certes, father, I'll e'en try her at a heron first."