"What is thy name?" he said, and searched me kindly with his eyes.
I could not lie to him, so I said simply, "Nigel," as I would fain say no more.
"Then, good Father Nigel," said he, seeing my reluctance, "I will go whisper in my lord's ear, if thou wilt tell me more clearly of thy business."
"Tell him," said I, "that Abbot Michael, his good brother, has sent me with sad news of the miseries of Vale Abbey."
"So, my son," said the monk, gently, and disappeared through the stairway, whence he presently returned, and led me with him.
He led me to a certain fair chamber, wherein sat many great lords around my lord abbot.
"Who is this, brought by our brother of Bec?" said one, as I entered by the side of that great scholar, Lanfranc, the Abbot of Bec.
"This," said the abbot, an Italian also, "is an envoy from the isle of Guernsey, who comes with greeting from our brother yonder, bearing a sad tale with him, or I am mistaken."
I knelt to my lord, as he sat in his rich-broidered cloak, with his plump legs cross-gartered, as befits great nobles, and, kissing his hand, begged that I might speak on.
"Nay; first, sir priest," he said, "tell us thy name, and then thy story."