“Nay, then, I do almost repent me that I hindered thee from thy design of quartering in the Castle,” said Assueton. “Thou mightest have levied new war on our ancient and natural foemen, by snatching an affianced bride from the big house of Northumberland.”
“Depardieux, but it were indeed a triumph, and worthy of a Scottish knight, to carry off the Lady Eleanore de Selby by her own consent from the proud Piersie,” said Hepborne. “But ’tis well enow to jest of.”
Whilst this dialogue was going on between the two friends, their esquires entered the place. Mortimer Sang, after reconnoitring the different tables, and perceiving that there were no convenient places vacant, except at that occupied by the attendants of the Bishop, went towards it, followed by his comrade Roger Riddel.
“By your good leave, courteous gentlemen,” said Sang, with a bow, at the same time filling up an empty space with his person; “I hope no objection to our joining your good company? Here, tapster,” cried he, at the same time throwing money on the table, “bring in a flagon of Rhenish, that we may wash away the dryness of new acquaintance.”
This cheering introduction of the two esquires was received with a smiling welcome on the part of those to whom it was addressed.
“Come ye from the south, Sir Squire?” demanded Barton, after the wine had silently circulated, to the great inward satisfaction of the partakers.
“Ay, truly, from the south, indeed,” replied Sang, lifting the flagon to his head.
“Then was I right, Richard, after all,” said Barton, addressing one of his fellows. “Did I not tell thee that these strangers had none of the loutish Scot in their gait?”
“Loutish Scot!” cried Sang, taking the flagon from his lips, and starting up fiercely; “What mean ye by loutish Scot?” [[29]]
Barton eyed the tall figure, broad chest, and sinewy arms of the Scottish esquire.