"Because you sit your horse like the Earl of Mortimer," answered the boy.
"You may say so, indeed," said the other, laughing. "But who is that under the arch?"
"That is my uncle," replied Tangel, "the good priest of Pierrepont. He is going to shrive the man that fell over the rock, as your lordship knows, just at sun-down."
"I know nothing about him," exclaimed Mortimer; "but I do know, that if this warder come not forth, his thrift shall be a short one. Go in, Jenkin, and slit me his ears with thy knife till they be the shape of a cur's,--Ha! here he comes at length. How now, warder! How dare you keep me waiting here? By the Lord, I am minded to hang thee over the gate."
The burly old man grumbled forth something about his lanthorn having gone out; and then added, in a louder tone, "I did not expect you, my lord, so soon, to-night. You are wont to be an hour later."
"Ay, but we have some sharp business at daybreak to-morrow," cried Mortimer; "so we must be a-bed by times."
Slowly, and as if unwillingly, the warder drew down the large oak bar, saying, "You must give the word, my lord."
"The three leopards," replied Mortimer. "Come, quick, open the gate, or, by my halidome, it shall be worse for you."
With provoking slowness, however, the old man undid bolt after bolt, and then threw wide the heavy wooden valves; and, without further question, the train of Mortimer rode out, his very robes brushing against Hugh de Monthermer as he passed. The young knight and the boy followed slowly; and before the gates could be closed again, coming rapidly from the neighbouring streets, several other men on foot issued forth in silence, without giving any word to the warder.
"Ah, you thieves!" said good Matthew Pole to the last of them, "if I chose to shut you in, there would be fine hanging to-morrow."