"But methinks the May-pole is no more than a pagan thing, an idol to encourage to vanity and profane dancing," said a sour-faced man, who had been standing by the window.
"It may have been a pagan custom once," said Sir Christopher; "and the same may be said of preaching from a pulpit; but all depends on the way of it, and not on the thing itself. As to dancing, it is an old custom enough; there is Scripture warrant for it perhaps, and it comes naturally to all young creatures. I'll be bound, now, that our Dick and his little cousin Cicely are at this moment getting the steps of the gavotte or the other gambadoes that have come to us from France and Spain, that they may figure before the company to-morrow."
"That are they!" said the dame laughing, as a servant opened the door, and each of Sir Christopher's friends gave a hand to a lady to lead them down to supper. "Hark! don't you hear my kinswoman's lute? Poor, kind Dorothy, she will play to them for the hour long, and likes nothing better. I can hear their little feet pit-a-patting; and Dick would insist on putting on his new fine suit, all brave with Spanish point and ribbon velvet, and the boy has buckled on a sword, too, while the little puss, Cicely, not to be backward, is all a prop with a stiff petticoat and a brocaded fardingale, and has on her little silk cap with the pearls, just as I have heard the fashion is among the Queen's French ladies of honour. Hark! there they go, tum-tum-ty, tum-twenty-tum, tum-twenty-tum! Bless their little hearts!"
The sour-faced man made a grimace; for his wife was just before him, and he could see her feet moving in time to the music as they all went down into the great hall laughing and talking; nor did the sound of the music cease till it was shut out by the closing of the door after they had sat down to supper; and even then it came upon them in gushes of melody every time a servant opened the door, to bring in another dish or a flagon of ale or of wine.
They heard it when, supper being nearly over, the butler came in softly and whispered to Sir Christopher, who, asking them to excuse him for a moment, went out into the hall.
A horseman was standing there, booted and spurred, and with his riding whip in his hand, and his steed was snorting, and scraping the ground outside.
"Do you know me again, Sir Christopher?" said the man, in a low voice.
"Let me bring you to the light," muttered the knight, leading him to the porch where there was a lantern hanging. "To be sure. I have seen you up at Whitehall and at Oxford, too, and are not likely to forget His Majesty's Groom of the Chambers. How fares it with our Royal Master?"
"Why, it stands this way, sir, as I take it," whispered the visitor. "His Majesty must either fly the country or reach the army of the Scots, which he has no liking for, or raise the eastern counties and risk another battle. As it is, we have come safe out of Oxford, where Fairfax and the arch-rebel Cromwell are closing upon the city, and the king has ridden behind me after I had trimmed off his pointed beard, and made him look as much like a servant as is possible to his sainted person. I left him an hour ago after we had left Deeping, for I came on here to see if you could receive him, not according to his rank, but as a plain guest, with the name of Thomas Williams; for there are those about who might be meddlesome, and His Majesty can only tarry for two or three days, waiting for a message from the Scots generals, to be brought by a trusty hand. I had feared that His Majesty would have overtaken me, for my horse cast a shoe, and came limping along for a mile or more, till at the smithy yonder by the roadside I found a farrier."
"Bring my dear friend Mr. Thomas Williams on with you," said Sir Christopher loudly, as the door opened and a serving man came out; "he shall be welcome for old times' sake when we were at college together, and tell him I will not have him put up at the inn while there is a bed and a bottle at Stolham Manor."