"Who is the abbess?" asked William of his brother. "Have you seen her?"
"No, only a cloud of women and servants on mules in the distance, all chattering with fright. I think the abbess is some great lady on a visit to a noble kinswoman."
The Prince was returning to the camp when Louis galloped up, begging him to see the nuns go by.
"Let us salute them," he said, "and show them that heretics are not boors."
The three brothers rode back to the road, skirting the hawthorn copse, and reined up under a delicate group of young beech trees.
A little dust, a little chatter and trampling, jingle and clatter of harness, and the cavalcade came into view, preceded by the stout French man-at-arms and a number of armed men-servants.
Directly behind them and riding in front of a group of nuns came the abbess.
She was mounted on a fine white palfrey, her habit was largely white though she wore a black cloak; doeskin gloves covered her hands, and she guided the horse with glittering scarlet reins.
On her breast sparkled a large gold cross, and a rosary of carved gold beads hung at her waist cord.
She sat very upright, in no way hampered by the full robes which concealed her figure and fell over the horse almost to the ground.