Seized by a boyish whim, their master rode past them with no more
than a wave of his hand.
"If we make haste, it may be that we can take Hildelitha and Father Ingulph by
surprise," he laughed, leaping down on the crumbling doorstep and pulling his
captive with him.
In the tunnel-like arch of the great entrance they met another throng, but he
shook them off with good-natured impatience and hurried through the great
guard-room to the winding stairs, that were cut out of the core of the massive
stones. Up and across another mighty hall, and then up again, and into a great
women's-room, full of looms and spinning-wheels, where a buxom English
housewife and half-a-dozen red-cheeked maids were gaping over their distaffs
at the tale a jolly old monk was telling between swallows of wine.
He choked in his cup when he saw who stood laughing in the doorway, and there
was a great screaming and scrambling among his audience. Knocking over her
spinning-wheel to get to him, the woman Hildelitha threw her arms around her
young lord's neck and gave him a hearty smack on either cheek; while the fat
monk sputtered blessings between his paroxysms of coughing, and the six
blooming girls made a screaming circle around them.
Though he endured it amiably enough, the Etheling appeared in some haste to
offer a diversion. He evaded a second embrace by turning and beckoning to his
shrinking captive.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130