Art bound for St. Paul's? Here's
supper to the fore for all comers!"
"Thanks, sir porter, but this maid is of other mould; she is the Lady
Grisell Dacre, and is company for my lord and my lady."
"Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the Abbess. Come this
way, dame, and we will find the steward to marshal her."
Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her kind old
friend, but she was obliged to follow. They dismounted in a fine
court with cloister-like buildings round it, and full of people of
all kinds, for no less than six hundred stout yeomen wore red coats
and the bear and ragged staff. Grisell would fain have clung to her
guide, but she was not allowed to do so. She was marshalled up stone
steps into a great hall, where tables were being laid, covered with
white napery and glittering with silver and pewter.
The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to where
there was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer though it was,
and shut off by handsome tapestried and carved screens sat a half
circle of ladies, with a young-looking lady in a velvet fur-trimmed
surcoat in their midst. A tall man with a keen, resolute face, in
long robes and gold belt and chain, stood by her leaning on her
chair.
The seneschal announced, "Place, place for the Lady Grisell Dacre of
Whitburn," and Grisell bent low, putting back as much of her veil as
she felt courtesy absolutely to require.
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