“Of a truth, Sir Knight, we are now but ill provided for sike guests,” replied Kyle. “Had it been thy luck to have sojourned here yestere’en, indeed, I wot ye mought ha’ been feasted. [[25]]But arrives me my Lord Bishop of Durham at the Castle this morning; down comes me the seneschal with his buttery-men, and whips me off a whole beeve’s carcase; then in pour me the people of my Lord Bishop—clerks, lacqueys, and grooms; bolt goes me a leg of mutton here—crack goes me a venison pasty there—gobble goes me a salmon in this corner, whilst a whole flock of pullets are riven asunder in that; so that there has been nothing from sunrise till sundown but wagging of jaws.”
“Marry, these church-followers are wont to be stout knights of the trencher,” said Assueton, with a smile. “But let us have a supper from what may be left thee, and that without more ado.”
“Anon, courteous Sir Knight,” said Master Kyle, with a grin. “But, as I was a-saying, there hath been such stuffing; nay ye may know by the clinking of their cans that the rogues drink not fasting. By the mass, ’tis easy to guess from the seas of ale they are swallowing, what mountains of good provender they have to float in their stomachs. Why, yonder lantern-jaws i’ the corner, with a mouth that opens as if he would swallow another Jonas, and wangs like the famine-ground fangs of a starving wolf—that same fellow devoured me a couple of fat capons single-head; and that other churl——”
“Have done with thine impertinence, villain, said Assueton, interrupting him; “have done with thine impertinence, I say, and let us straightway have such fare as thou canst give, or by St. Andrew——”
“Nay, then, sweet sir,” replied the host, “there be yet reserved some delicate pig’s liver for myself and Mrs. Kyle, but they shall be forthwith cheerfully yielded to thy necessities.”
“Pestilence take thee, knave,” cried Assueton, “couldst thou not have set them down to us at once, without stirring up our appetites to greater keenness by thine enumeration of the good things that are gone? Come, come, despatch—our hunger is beyond nicety.”
Sir John Assueton now sat down to put in practice that patience of hunger, the exercise of which was one of the chief virtues of knighthood. As for Sir Patrick Hepborne, his attention was so entirely absorbed by a conversation that ensued at the adjoining table, to which the Bishop’s people had retired, that he altogether forgot his wants.
“And was it thy luck to see the Lady Eleanore de Selby, Master Barton?” demanded one of the persons of the dialogue; “Fame speaketh largely of her perfections.” [[26]]
“Yea, Foster, I did indeed behold her,” replied the other, who seemed to be a person of more consequence than the rest. “When I entered the Castle-hall this morning, to receive the commands of my Lord the Bishop, she was seated between him and her father. They were alone, and the old knight was urging something to her in round soldier-like terms; but I gathered not the purport of his speech, for he broke off abruptly as I appeared.”
“And is she so rare a beauty as folks do call her?” demanded Foster.