It was a hurried repast, partaken of by mailed knights, lacking only gauntlets and helmets to be fully armed, as were their attendant esquires and pages. And as none knew if the parliament so attended would pass peacefully, it was aught but a gladsome gathering.
As was the custom, the ladies shared the platters of their spouses or betrothed, and so there were opportunities for hopeful or consoling words between the lovers; and then with full cups drained to "The King and Magna Charta!" earl and knights were up with the rest. Idonea and Avice clasped on the casques of their lovers, and were gallantly repaid.
A fatherly kiss from the earl, and he was off with a goodly train of armed knights and esquires, two of whom carried symbolic roses in their casques, the spoil of maidens' chaplets.
A pattering of young feet up the oaken stairs, a straining of eyes and waving of kerchiefs from the bower-window. Soon the party was seen to cross the Swarkstone ford, the sun shining on helms of gold and silver and steel, on lance-heads and waving pennons, and then—and then—came the waiting, whilst Prior John discoursed to them of Christian hope and trust, and William Harpur dwelt on the probability of strife and bloodshed, and my lady called on them for help to entertain such guests as still remained at Swarkstone Hall.
(To be concluded.)
WINTER
WINTER