"Roger de Fitz-Eustace. He is at hand; see thou prepare to meet him."
"Surely thou mockest, Roger de"—
"Peace! The last beam of to-morrow's sun shall see the banner of the Fitz-Eustace beneath the gate."
"To-morrow! Why—how cometh my lord? Surely thou dreamest—or thy"—
"Once more I warn thee of his coming; see to his reception, or thy lord will be wroth; and Roger with the ready hand was not used to be over-nice, or loth in the administering of a rod to a fool's back."
The hermit departed without awaiting the reply.
But great was the stir and tumult in the stronghold of the
Lacies on that memorable day. The hurrying to and fro of the victuallers and cooks—the clink of armourers and the din of horses prancing in their warlike equipments—kept up an incessant jingle and confusion. A watchman was stationed on the keep, whose duty it was to give warning when the dust, curling on the wind, should betoken the approach of strangers. The guards were set, the gates properly mounted, and the drawbridge raised, so that their future lord might be admitted in due form to his possession.
The sun went gloriously down towards the wide and distant verge of the forest, and the brow of Pendle flung back his burning glance. Nature seemed to welter in a wide atmosphere of light, from which there was no escape. Panting and oppressed, the hounds lay basking by the wall, and the shaggy wolf-dog crept, with slouching gait and lolling tongue, from the glare into the shadow of some protecting buttress. The watchman sat beneath the low battlements, hardly able to direct his aching eyes towards the forest path below the hill. The monotony of this dull and weary task was reiterated until the very effort became habitual, and he could scarcely recognise or identify any change of object from the absorption of his faculties by the listlessness it created. One slight curl of dust had already escaped him, another waved softly above the trees where the path wound upwards from the valley. Again it was visible, and the watchman seemed to awaken as from a lethargy or a dream. Strangers were surely approaching, but without retinue, as the wreath of dust, from its slight continuance, would seem to intimate. Just as he came to this conclusion, two horsemen swept into view, where a broad turn of the road was visible, disappearing again rapidly behind the arched boughs of the forest.
Bounding almost headlong down the narrow stair, he ran immediately to the hall, informing the deputy of what he had seen. Scarce had he concluded when a hoarse blast from the horn rang at the outer gate. Adam de Button hurried to the postern, where he saw two horsemen, bearing unequivocal signs of their allegiance to the renowned constable of Chester. They wore what was then considered a great novelty in dress, the tabord or supertotus, a sleeveless garment, consisting of only two pieces, which hung down before and behind, the sides being left open.[53] Low-crowned yellow caps covered their heads,