Here was a summons as startling as it was sudden and peremptory!
The falconer might carry his hawks back to the mews. There was a duty more imperative than filling the larder under the name of sport.
Back went the gallant hawking party, in more of haste and excitement, if less of glee, than when they had left the great gateway at a canter scarce half an hour before, by the sun.
The warder on the watch threw open the great gates in consternation, certain some mischance had happened.
Lady Joan left her housewifery, and was there in her lap-cloth (or apron) to receive them, with a face full of apprehension.
"There can be no hawking to-day, Joan," said her lord, "we must don harness and speed to Leicester. The king hath summoned a parliament to meet him at Oxford."
"Arm! A parliament! Do parliaments assemble in arms?"
"This will, good Joan, for so hath decided Simon de Montfort. But never look so scared, my lady. And you, my blooming roses, need not droop; there will be no bloodshed. You will have your gallant bridegrooms back ere another week be out," answered the earl, cheerily.
"But the bridal—the banquet?" cried the dame, in dismay.
The young knights helping their downcast fair ones to alight, seemed each to put a like question in an undertone, pressing the gloved hands they were so loth to relinquish, even for an hour.