"Gracious heaven!" cried the lady, "he says pretty things. Only think of a man in armour being witty! But really, sir knight, it frightens me to see you all wrapped up in horrid steel. Can it possibly be that these Rochester shipwrights are so outrageous as to require a belted knight with lance in rest for the escort of a simple girl like me?"
"Men are wont to guard great treasures with even superfluous care," replied Sir Osborne. The lady made him a very profound curtsey, and he proceeded: "This was most probably the lord abbot's reason for sending to request some escort from the Duke of Buckingham; for though I hear of some riot or tumult at Rochester, I cannot suppose it very serious. However, all I know is this, that the right reverend father did send while I was there jousting in the park; and understanding that I was about to proceed to London, his grace resigned to me the honour of conducting you safely thither."
"What, then! you are not one of the duke's own knights?" exclaimed Lady Katrine.
"I am no one's knight," replied Sir Osborne with a smile, "except it be the king's and yours, if such you will allow me to be."
"Oh, that I will!" answered the lady. "I should like a tame knight above anything; but in troth, I have spoken to you somewhat too lightly, sir." She proceeded more gravely: "From what my lord uncle abbot told me, I judged the duke had sent me one of his household knights,[[6]] men who, having forty pounds a year, have been forced to receive a slap on the shoulder for the sake of the herald's fee; and then, having nought to do that may become the sir, they pin themselves to the skirts of some great man's robe, to do both knightly and unknightly service."
"Such am not I, fair lady," replied Sir Osborne, a little piqued that she could even have supposed so. "I took my knighthood in the battle-plain, from the sword of a great monarch; and so long as I live my service shall never be given but to my lady, my king, or my God!"
"Nay, nay, do not look so fierce, man in armour," answered Lady Katrine, relapsing into her merriment. "Both from your manner and your mien, I should have judged differently, if I had thought but for a moment; but do not you see, I never think? I take a thing for granted, and then go on acting upon it as if it were really true. But, as I said, you shall be my knight, and before we reach the court I doubt not I shall have a task to give you, and a guerdon for your pains, if the good folks of Rochester do not cut our throats in the mean while. But what hour did you say, sir knight, for setting out? for here my poor wenches have to make quick preparations of all my habits."
"I have named no hour," replied Sir Osborne; "but if you will do me the honour to let me know when you are ready tomorrow, my horses shall stand saddled from six in the morning."
"But how am I to let you know?" demanded the lady, "unless I take hold of the bell-rope, and ring matins on the convent bell; and then all the good souls will wink their eyes, and think the sun has turned lie-a-bed. Dear heart! sir knight, you do not suppose that the monks and the nuns come running in and out between the two sides of the abbey, like the busy little ants in their wonderful small cities? No, no, no! none comes in here but my lord abbot and an old confessor or two, so deafened with the long catalogue of worldly sins that they would not hear my errand, much less do it. But now I think of it, there is a good lay sister; her I will bribe with a silver piece to risk purgatory by going round to the front gate of the abbey, and telling the monk when I am ready. And now, good sir knight, I must go back to my lord abbot, and fall down upon my knees and beg pardon; for I left him so offended that he would not come down with me, because I was pert about going early. Farewell! Judge not harshly of me till to-morrow; perhaps then I may give you cause; who knows?"
Thus saying, she tripped lightly away with a gay saucy toss of the head, like a spoiled child, too sure of pleasing to be heedful about doing so. As she turned away, the maid advanced to the grate, and informed Sir Osborne that the lord abbot would meet him at the place where they had parted, upon which information the knight retrod his steps to the little court of the cloisters, where he found the abbot pacing up and down, with a grave and thoughtful countenance.