With the young Avondales there had ridden forth Malise and his son Laurence on their way to the Abbey of Dulce Cor. Sholto went also with them to convoy them to the fords of Urr.
For Laurence was to be a clerk after all.
And this is the way he explained it.
"The Abbot cannot live long, and there is no Douglas to succeed him. Then your little Maid will make me Abbot, if that Maud of yours does her duty."
"She is not my Maud yet," sighed Sholto. For, as they say in Scotland, the lady had proved "driech to draw up."
"But she will be in good time," urged Laurence, "and she must persuade the Lady Margaret of my many and surprising virtues."
"The Lady Margaret hath doubtless seen these for herself. Were you not bound beside her on the iron altar?" said Sholto.
"Yes, but I dirked the old witch-woman, or so they say. And that was no clerkly action!" objected his brother.
"Fear not," said Sholto, "you have all of her favour you need without working by means of another's petticoat. But how about marrying? You cannot wed or woo if you are a clerk. You did not use to be so unfond of a lass in the gloamings along the sweet strand called the Walk of Lovers—you know where!"