Margaret rose to meet her husband when he entered. She had looked pale in
her dress of deep mourning before, but he thought that she looked paler
now. She, too, had evidently been thinking over the summons that he had
received, and there was an expression of firmness and resolution in her
face that seemed to say that she had arrived at a more definite conclusion
than he had done.
"'Tis a knotty question, wife," Sir Eustace said. "In the first place, it
is clear we cannot hope to defend the castle successfully against an
attack by Burgundy. The last was but of the character of a raid, the next
would be a serious siege by experienced soldiers provided with all proper
means and appliances. Before, it was certain that Sir Clugnet would, if he
tarried here, be shortly attacked by the Burgundians, whereas now there
would be no prospect of assistance. There is no hope of help from England,
for there is no force in Calais that could contend with that which would
probably be sent against me; therefore I take it that if attacked the
castle must in the end fall, in which case probably its defenders would
all be put to the sword. I myself should most likely be killed, the
estates forfeited, and you and the children taken prisoners to Paris. Now
it seems to me that that is not to be thought of. It remains to decide,
therefore, whether we shall abandon the castle and journey to England, or
whether we will admit a Burgundian garrison, which will in fact, we may be
sure, be the first step towards losing the castle and estate altogether.
It seems to me that the first will be the best plan. I see no chance of it
at present, but in time Henry may invade France; and as we lie only some
seven or eight miles from the frontier he would doubtless recapture
Villeroy, and we should again become its masters."
"You have not mentioned the other alternative, Eustace, namely, that I and
the children should go to Paris as hostages; and this, it seems to me, is
the best of the three to follow. If there were indeed a chance of an
English invasion I should not say so, but I think not that there is any
such prospect. It is many years since England has done aught in earnest,
and during all that time her power in France has been waning. I would not
that our children should lose this fair estate when it can well be
preserved by some slight sacrifice on my part. Were I and the children to
go to Paris it would put an end to all doubts as to your loyalty, and you
would hold the castle and estates. The peace now patched up between the
parties will not last, and as soon as they are engaged with each other,
and have no time to spare to think of attacking you here, I will endeavour
to escape with the children and rejoin you. I shall assuredly have no
cause for complaint. I shall, of course, have honourable treatment, and
apartments fitting to our rank assigned to me. It would be no great
hardship, and even were it so it would be worth enduring in order that our
son Charles should inherit his father's estate."
"I could not part from you, love."
"Nay, Eustace, as I have said, it cannot be for long; and you must
remember that twice when the children were infants I remained in England
with them while you were some months here. It would be no worse now. I
would take Guy with me; the lad has sense and courage, the children are
both fond of him, and I myself could, if occasion arose, take counsel with
him. Then I could have two or three stout men-at-arms who might ride in my
train in peaceful garb as retainers. As to a maid I can, if I need one,
hire her in Paris. Surely, husband, it would be far better so than that we
should lose castle and land. There could be little danger to one in Paris
at any time, still less to the wife of a vassal of the crown, least of all
to a hostage. I shall be but staying at the court. If you peril life and
limb, Eustace, in defence of your castle, surely it is not much that I
should put myself to the slight inconvenience of a stay in Paris for a
while."
"I like it not," the knight said moodily. "I see well enough that what you
say is true, and that you should be safe at Charles's court, indeed safer
than here. The citizens of Paris are indeed turbulent, whether they shout
for Orleans or Burgundy, but what if Henry of England should again lead an
army here?"
"But why imagine what is not likely to happen? Long ere Henry comes I may
have joined you again; should it be otherwise I might perhaps escape, or
at the very worst of all they could but keep me in duress in my chamber.
Who ever heard of a woman being ill-treated for the disobedience of her
lord? All that they could do would be to make you pay ransom for my
return."
"I would rather go as a hostage myself."
"Nay, husband, that could hardly be. Who would then take care of your
castle? It is not a hard thing that the king asks, merely that I and the
children shall for a time live at his court as a proof that you, his
vassal, hold your castle for him. Even if the worst comes to the worst we
can but lose castle and land, as we must lose it now if I do not go. Nay,
my dear lord, do not wrinkle your brow, we cannot strive against the might
of France; and at present we must bow our heads and wait until the storm
has passed, and hope for better times. There may be an English war; ere
long Henry may again extend his frontiers, and you might again become a
vassal of England for these possessions of yours even as your fathers
were."
"I see that reason is on your side, Margaret, and yet I cannot bring
myself to like the plan."
"Nor do I like it, husband; yet I feel that it were a thousand times
better that I should be separated from you for a time than that we should
risk another siege. The last has cost us dear enough, another might take
you from me."
"Well, well, dear, I suppose you must have your way; indeed I do not see
that harm can possibly come to you, and it will at any rate ensure peace
for a time and enable us to repair our tenants' losses. I shall send over
a message at once to Sir Aylmer, and beg him to choose and send me another
fifty archers--with that reinforcement I could make head against any
attack save in the greatest force--for there is no saying how things may
go. The five-and-twenty did wonders, and with thrice that force I should
feel confident that Villeroy could withstand any attack save by an army
with an abundance of great machines.
"Well, Margaret, since you have decided for me that you are to go--and
indeed I myself plainly see that that alternative is really the best--let
us talk over who you had best take with you. I quite approve of your
choice of Guy; he is a good lad, and will make a brave knight some day. I
shall now make him one of my esquires, and as such he will always be in
attendance on you; and assuredly Agnes and Charlie will, as well as
yourself, benefit by his presence. He will be able to take them out and
look after them, and as he talks French as well as English the lad will be
useful to you in many ways. Have you any preference as to the four men-at-arms?"
"Could you spare Tom, the leader of the archers? I should like to have
another Englishman with me, and he is very good-tempered and obliging. He
is shrewd too, and with his strength and courage I should feel that I
could wholly rely upon him in any strait, though indeed I see not that
there is any probability of such occurring."
"Certainly you can have him, Margaret, and I shall be glad to know that he
is with you. Dickon, who is next under him, can act as captain of the
archers while he is away. I have noticed that Tom is picking up the
language fast. He is always ready to do little kindnesses to the women and
children, and I have often heard him talking with them. He will soon get
to speak the language fairly. As to the others have you any choice?"
"No, I think you had better choose them for me, Eustace."
"They had better be French," he said; "it would not do for you to surround
yourself entirely by English, although of course it is natural enough that
you should have an English squire and servant. I think that you could not
do better than take Jules Varey and Albert Bongarde. They are both stout
men-at-arms, prudent fellows, and not given to the wine-cup. As a fourth I
would say Jean Picard's son; he is a stout fellow too, and I know that,
but for his father's hopes that he will one day succeed him as butler, he
would have taken service regularly as a man-at-arms. He fought stoutly
when the French gained the wall, and I marked him exchanging blows with
Sir Clugnet himself, and bearing himself as well as any man there. You
could choose no better."
"So be it," she said. "I think, Eustace, that with four such defenders, to
say nothing of young Guy, you need not feel uneasy about us."
"I don't think that I shall feel uneasy, Margaret; but I know that I can
ill spare you. You have ever been at my side since we were married, save
when, after the birth of Agnes and Charles, you were forced to stay in
England when I came over here. I felt it a dreary time then, and shall
feel it so now; but I doubt not that all will go well with you, though it
will be a very different life to that to which you have been accustomed."
"I shall do well enough," Margaret said cheerfully, "and maybe I shall get
so fond of court that you will have to take me to that of Henry when we
return to England."
"Now you had best begin to make your preparations. I will speak to Guy and
the others myself."
Sir Eustace went into the court-yard, where Guy was superintending the
issue of provisions for the women.
"This can go on without you," he said; "Gervaise will see to it. I would
speak to you. You were at the meeting this morning, Guy, and you heard
what the herald of France said. The position is a hard one. I cannot hold
the castle against the strength of France, while if we take a Burgundian
garrison I should cease to be its master, and it would doubtless soon pass
into other hands. Again, if I go to England, it would equally be lost to
us. Therefore my wife has resolved, in order to gain time until these
disorders are over, to go to Paris with the children as a hostage for me.
In no case, as it seems to me, are Dame Margaret and the children likely
to be in danger; nevertheless, I am greatly loth for them to go. However,
seeing no other way out of the business, I have consented, and we have
arranged that you shall accompany her. You will go as my esquire, and I
shall install you as such this afternoon. You will take Long Tom, two of
the men-at-arms, and Robert Picard, all good men and true; but at the same
time the burden and responsibility must rest upon your shoulders. You are
young yet for so grave a charge, and yet I feel that I can confide it to
you. You will have to be the stay and support of your mistress, you will
have to be the companion and friend of my children, and I shall charge the
four men-at-arms to take orders from you as from me. Tom will be a
valuable fellow. In the first place, he is, I know, much attached to you,
besides being shrewd, and a very giant in strength. The other three are
all honest varlets, and you can rely upon them in any pinch."
"I will do my best, my lord," Guy said quietly; "and I am grateful to you
indeed for the confidence that you show in me, and I shall, I hope, prove
worthy of it, and of my father."
The news soon spread through the castle that Dame Margaret was going to
Paris. The maids wept at the thought, as did many of the tenants' wives,
for since the siege began, her kindness and the pains that she had taken
to make them comfortable had endeared her greatly to them. On her previous
visits they had seen comparatively little of her; she had been to them
simply their lord's English wife, now they knew her as a friend.
Nevertheless, their regret at her leaving was softened by the thought that
her going to be near the king insured peace for them, and that they would
now be able to venture out to the houses that were fast rising on the
ruins of their former homes, and to take up their life again as they had
left it.
Early next morning the little cortege mustered in the court-yard in
readiness for a start. Sir Eustace and his wife had said good-bye to each
other in their chamber, and she looked calm and tranquil as she mounted
her horse; for, having been accustomed from a child to ride with her
father hunting and hawking, she could sit a horse well, and scorned to
ride, as did so many ladies, on a pillion. Guy rode by her side, with
Agnes on a pillion behind him. Long Tom, with Charlie perched in front of
him, followed them, and the three men-at-arms brought up the rear. Charlie
was in high spirits; he regarded the trip as a sort of holiday, and had
been talking, ever since he got up, of the wonders that he should see in
Paris. Agnes better understood the situation, and nothing but the feeling
that she ought to emulate the calmness of her mother restrained her from
bursting into tears when her father lifted her on to her seat. The herald
led the way, followed by his two pursuivants. Dame Margaret checked her
horse in the middle of the court-yard, and said in a loud clear voice to
the tenants and men-at-arms round: "Adieu, good friends; I trust that I
shall not be long away from you. I go to stay for a time at the court in
Paris, and I leave you with the surety that you will have peace and rest
until I return, and be able to repair the damages you suffered from the
attack made upon us by men who regard not the law." She turned and waved
her hand to Sir Eustace, who was standing immovable on the steps, and
then, touching the horse with her heel, they moved on after the herald.
"Do not fear to speak, Tom," Dame Margaret said, after they had left the
castle behind them; "the journey is a long one, and it will go all the
quicker for honest talk. What think you of this expedition to Paris?"
"I would as lief go there as anywhere else, my lady. Indeed, men say that
it is a fine city, and as I have never seen a bigger town than
Southampton, I doubt not that I shall find plenty to interest me at times
when you may not require our services."
"I see that you have brought your bow with you."
"Ay, my lady, I could not bring myself to part with it. Sir Eustace told
me that I could not carry it, as its length would be a matter of remark,
and point me out at once as being an Englishman, seeing that the French
archers carry no bows of such length; so I have, even as you see, wrapped
it round with straw, and fastened it to the saddle beneath my leg. I have
also put fourscore arrows among the valises on the pack-horses."
"There is no chance of your needing them, Tom."
"I trust that it is so," the archer replied; "but, indeed, there is never
any saying, and an archer without his bow is but a poor creature,--though,
indeed, I trust that I can swing an axe as well as another."
"And much better than most, Tom; still, I hope that neither axe nor bow
will be required."
"To that I say amen also; for, although a fray may sometimes be to my
taste, I have no desire to be mixed up in a mêlée without some of my own
stout comrades with me."
"Shall we get to Paris to-night, Lady Mother?" Charlie asked.
"No, indeed; it will be five days, if not six, for I see by the way that
we are travelling we are bearing east, and shall sleep at Lille or may be
at Tournay; then, doubtless, we shall bear south, and may stop the next
night at Cambrai, and make to Noyon on the following day, and thence to
Compiègne or to Senlis, and the next day will take us to Paris. It all
depends how far and how fast we ride each day. But these matters will be
arranged by the herald. Were we to go by the shortest route we should get
there more quickly; but Amiens is held by the party to whom the men who
attacked our castle belong, and by the way we are travelling we shall keep
for some time in Artois, and so escape all risk of trouble on the road."
"I don't care for trouble," Charlie said stoutly; "we have got Long Tom
and Robert Picard and the other two, and Guy can fight also."
"That would be all very well, my son," his mother said smiling, "if we
were only attacked by half a dozen vagrants, but brave as they all are
they could do naught if a large body surprised us; but be assured that
there is no fear of that--by the way we are travelling we shall meet with
none but friends."
"I should like to be attacked by the vagrants, mother. The last time you
made us stay with you when there was fighting going on, except just at the
first, but here we should see it all."
"Well, I don't want to see it, Charlie, and I am glad that we are not
likely to do so; and you must remember that you and I and Agnes would
sorely hamper our friends."
Nevertheless whenever a party of peasants was met upon the road Charlie
looked out hopefully and heaved a sigh of disappointment when, after
doffing their caps in respect, they passed on quietly. Several times they
encountered bodies of knights and men-at-arms, but the presence of the
royal herald saved them from all question. At each halting-place Dame
Margaret, her children and maid, were lodged in the house of one of the
principal citizens, while Guy and the men-at-arms lay at an inn. The
troubled state of the times was only manifest by the number of men-at-arms
in the streets, and the strict watch kept at the gates of the towns. Many
of these were kept shut, and were only opened once an hour to let people
pass in and out. This, however, did not affect the travellers, for the
gates were opened the moment the emblazonings on the surcoat of the herald
could be made out.
"We have assuredly nothing to complain of so far, Guy," Dame Margaret
said, as they set out on their last day's journey; "had we been the king's
special guests we could not have been more honourably treated, and I have
no doubt that although we shall be much less important personages at Paris
than as travellers under the royal protection, we shall yet be made
comfortable enough, and shall have naught to grieve over save the
separation from our lord."
"I cannot doubt that it will be so, lady," Guy replied; "and that at any
rate there will be no trouble, unless the Armagnacs lay siege to Paris or
there are riots in the city. I heard last night at the inn from some
travellers who had just left it, that although the majority of the people
there are in favour of Burgundy, yet that much discontent exists on
account of the harsh measures of the officers he has appointed, and
especially of the conduct of the guild of butchers, who, as it seems, are
high in favour with the duke, and rule the city as if it belonged to
them."
"It matters little to us, Guy, though it seems strange that the nobles of
France and the respectable citizens of Paris should allow themselves to be
ruled over by such a scum as that; but it was the same in Flanders, where
Von Artevelde, our ally, a great man and the chief among them, was
murdered by the butchers who at the time held sway in Ghent, and who were
conspicuous for many years in all the tumults in the great towns there."
"I hear, madam, that the king is ill, and can see no one."
"Yes, I have heard the same from the herald. It will be John of Burgundy
who will, for the time, be our master."
"I could desire a better," Guy said bluntly; "but we shall at any rate
know that his fair words are not to be trusted. For my part, however, I
wonder that after the (agreement with) the Duke of Orleans, with whom he had sworn a solemn peace, any man should hold converse with him."
"Unfortunately, Guy, men's interests count for more than their feelings,
and a great noble, who has it in his power to grant favours and dispense
honours, will find adherents though he has waded through blood. Burgundy,
too, as I hear, has winning manners and a soft tongue, and can, when it
pleases him, play the part of a frank and honest man. At least it must be
owned that the title of 'Fearless' does not misbecome him, for, had it
been otherwise, he would have denied all part in the murder of Orleans,
instead of openly avowing that it was done by his orders."
They had started at an earlier hour than usual that morning, as the herald
had pointed out to Dame Margaret, that it were best to arrive in Paris as
early as possible, in order that the question of their lodging might be
settled at once. Accordingly, they had been up at daybreak, and arrived in
Paris at noon.
"How long will it be, I wonder," Dame Margaret said, as they rode through
the gates, "before we shall pass through here again?"
"Not very long I hope, my lady," Guy said; "but be sure that if at any
time you wish to leave we shall be able to procure disguises for you all,
and to make our way out without difficulty."
"Nay, Guy, you forget that it is only so long as we are here that Villeroy
is safe from attack. Whatever happens, nothing, save the news that an
English army has landed at Calais, and is about to invade France, would
leave me free to attempt an escape. If not released before that, I must
then, at all hazards, try to escape, for Sir Eustace, knowing that I am
here, would be placed in a sore strait indeed; both by his own
inclinations and as a vassal of England, for he would want to join the
English as soon as they advanced, and yet would be hindered by the
knowledge that I was a hostage here. It would be for me to relieve him of
that fear; and the same feeling that induced me to come hither would then
take me back to Villeroy."
"Then, madam, I fear that our stay here will be a long one, for Henry has
never pushed on the war with France vigorously, and though plenty of cause
has been given by the capture of his castles in Guienne, he has never
drawn sword either to regain them or to avenge the insults put upon the
English flag."
"King Henry is old, Guy; and they say that his son is as full of spirit
and as fiery as his father is peaceful and indisposed for war. When the
king dies, my lord thinks that it will be but a short time before the
English banner will be unfurled in France; and this is one of the reasons
why he consented to my becoming an hostage, thinking that no long time is
likely to elapse before he will have English backing, and will be able to
disregard the threats of France."
"How narrow and sombre are these streets!" Guy said, after a pause, "one
seems to draw one's very breath with difficulty."
"They are well-nigh as narrow in London," his mistress replied; "but they
are gay enough below. See how crowded they are, and how brilliant are some
of the costumes!"
"Some of them indeed, madam, but more are poor and miserable; and as to
the faces, they are so scowling and sombre, truly were we not on horseback
I should keep my hand tight upon my pouch, though in truth there is
nothing in it worth stealing."
"Ay, ay, Master Guy," Long Tom broke in, "methinks that there are a good
many heads among these scowling knaves that I would gladly have a chance
of cracking had I my quarter-staff in my hand and half a dozen stout
fellows here with me. See how insolently they stare!"
"Hush, Tom!" Dame Margaret said, turning round, "if you talk of cracking
skulls I shall regret that I brought you with me."
"I am not thinking of doing it, my lady," the archer said apologetically.
"I did but say that I should like to do it, and between liking and doing
there is often a long distance."
"Sometimes, Tom, but one often leads to the other. You must remember that
above all things it behoves us to act prudently here, and to avoid drawing
the attention of our foes. We English are not loved in Paris, and the less
you open your mouth here the better; for when Burgundians and Armagnacs
are ready to cut each other's throats over a name, fellow-countrymen
though they be, neither would feel any compunction about killing an
Englishman."
After riding for half an hour they entered the court-yard of a large
building, where men-at-arms and varlets wearing the cognizance of Burgundy
were moving about, a group of nobles were standing on the steps, while
some grooms were walking their horses round the court-yard. The herald
made his way to the door, and here all alighted.
"Whom have we here, I wonder?" one of the young nobles said to another as
they came up. "A royal herald and his pursuivants; a young dame and a very
fair one; her daughter, I suppose, also fair; the lady's esquire; and a
small boy."
"Hostages, I should say," the other replied, "for the good conduct of the
lady's lord, whoever he may be. I know her not, and think that she cannot
have been at court for the last ten years, for I could hardly have
forgotten her face."
Dame Margaret took the hands of her two children and followed the herald
up the steps. She had made a motion of her head to Guy to attend her, and
he accordingly followed behind.
"A haughty lady as well as a fair one," the young knight laughed. "She did
not so much as glance at us, but held her head as high as if she were
going in to rate Burgundy himself. I think that she must be English by her
looks, though what an English woman can be doing here in Paris is beyond
my understanding, unless it be that she is the wife of a knight of
Guienne; in that case she would more likely be with Orleans than here."
"Yes, but you see the herald has brought her. It may be her lord's castle
has been captured, and she has come under the safe-conduct of a herald to
lay a complaint; but I think with you that she is English. The girl was
fair too, though not so fair as her mother, and that curly-headed young
esquire is of English stock too."
"He is a stout-looking fellow, De Maupas, and will make a powerful man; he
looks as if he could strike a shrewd blow even now. Let us question their
knaves, one of whom, by the way, is a veritable giant in point of height."
He beckoned to the four men, and Robert Picard came forward.
"Who is your lady, young man?"
"Dame Margaret de Villeroy, may it please you, sir. She is the wife of Sir
Eustace de Villeroy."
"Then we were right, De Maupas, for De Villeroy is, I know, a vassal of
England for his wife's estates, and his people have always counted
themselves English, because for over a hundred years their castle stood
inside the English line."
"He is a stout knight. We heard a month ago how bravely he held his castle
against Sir Clugnet de Brabant with 8000 Orleanists, and beat him off with
a loss of five knights and 400 men. Sir Clugnet himself was sorely
wounded. We all ought to feel mightily obliged to him for the check, which
sent them back post-haste out of Artois, where they had already done
damage enough, and might have done more had they not been so roughly
handled. I wonder what the lady is here for?"
"It may be that he would have fought the Burgundians as stoutly as he
fought the Armagnacs," the other said, "and that the duke does not care
about having so strong a castle held by so stout a knight within a few
miles of the English line."
The other shrugged his shoulders. "The English are sleeping dogs," he
said; "there is no Edward and no Black Prince to lead them now."
"No, but you must remember that sleeping dogs wake up sometimes, and even
try to bite when they do so; moreover we know of old that these particular
dogs can bite hard."
"The sooner they wake up the better, I say, De Maupas. We have a long
grudge to wipe off against them, and our men are not likely to repeat the
mistakes that cost us so dearly before. Besides, the English have had no
real fighting for years, and it seems to me that they have altogether
given up any hope of extending their possessions in France."
"One can never tell, De Revelle. For my part I own that I care not that
they should again spread their banner on this side of the sea. There can
be no doubt that they are stout fighting-men, and seeing how France is
divided they might do sore damage did they throw their weight into one
side of the scale."
"Methinks that there is no fear of that. The dukes both know well enough
that their own followers would not fight side by side with the English;
and though they might propose an alliance with the Islanders, it would
only be for the purpose of bringing the war to a close by uniting both
parties against our old enemy."
In the meantime Dame Margaret had followed her conductor to the great
chamber, where John of Burgundy held audience in almost royal state.
Several nobles were gathered round him, but at the entrance of the herald
these fell back, leaving him standing by himself. An eminently politic
man, the duke saw at once by the upright figure and the fearless air with
which Dame Margaret entered the hall, that this was a case where courtesy
and deference were far more likely to bring about the desired end of
winning her husband over to his interests, than any menaces or rough
speaking; he therefore advanced two or three steps to meet her.
"My lord duke," the herald said, "this lady, Dame Margaret of Villeroy,
has journeyed hither with me in accordance with the wish expressed by His
Majesty the king."
"As the king's representative in Paris, lady," the duke said to Margaret,
"I thank you for your promptness in thus conceding to his wish."
"His Majesty's wish was naturally a command to me, Sir Duke," Margaret
said with quiet dignity. "We, my husband and I, understood that some enemy
had been influencing His Majesty's mind against my lord, and in order to
assure him of my lord's loyalty as a faithful vassal for the land he
holds, I have willingly journeyed here with my children, although in much
grief for the loss of my eldest son, who died in the attack lately made
upon our castle by a large body of men, of whom we knew naught, save that
they did not come in the name of our lord the king."
"I have heard of the attack, lady, and of the gallant and successful
defence made by Sir Eustace, and the king was greatly pleased to hear of
the heavy check thus inflicted upon the men who had raised the banner of
revolt, and were harassing His Majesty's faithful subjects."
"That being so, my lord duke," Margaret said, "'tis strange, after my lord
had shown how ready and well prepared he was to protect his castle against
ill-doers, that he should have been asked to admit a garrison of strangers
to aid him to hold it. Sir Eustace has no desire to meddle with the
troubles of the times; he holds his castle as a fief directly from the
crown, as his ancestors have held it for two hundred years; he wishes only
to dwell in peace and in loyal service to the king."
[Illustration: THE LADY MARGARET MAKES HER OBEISANCE TO THE DUKE OF
BURGUNDY.]
"Such we have always understood, madam, and gladly would the king have
seen Sir Eustace himself at his court. The king will, I trust, shortly be
recovered from his malady; until he is so I have--for I was made
acquainted with your coming by messenger sent forward by Monjoie--arranged
for you to be lodged in all honour at the house of Master Leroux, one of
the most worshipful of the citizens of Paris, and provost of the guild of
silversmiths. My chamberlain will at once conduct you thither."
"I thank you, my lord duke," Margaret said with a stately reverence, "and
trust that when I am received by my lord the king I shall be able to prove
to him that Sir Eustace is his faithful vassal, and can be trusted to hold
his castle for him against all comers."
"I doubt it not, lady," the duke said courteously. "Sir Victor
Pierrepoint, I pray you to see this lady to the entrance. Sir Hugo will
already be waiting her there."