“I will give you a penance: not to look at a woman for two months.”
“Fudge, good sir, I am out to tie one behind me on the saddle this very day.”
The archers were sent to the buttery hatch, while the prior’s parlor served Vance and Dom Geraint. Prior Globulus had ridden out on a white mule to visit one of his farms, and Geraint had no prejudices against sitting in the old man’s chair.
Vance drank to him.
“May you have the filling of it, dear gossip. Then Paradise will lack nothing.”
Geraint gave blow for blow.
“And no man will stay me when I go a-hunting, whether it be the red deer——”
“Or others. You have a park of your own, man.”
“And you—the whole Forest.”
“Thin, sir—very thin. Game is scarce, though I am trapping a fine young doe this very day. And here is the jest, gossip Geraint; she has taken cover in one of your thickets.”