"
"And now, you door-keeping Cerberus," said he, "take this and give it to
your master, wherever he may be."
He wasted no more words upon the fellow, but went straight to the
dwelling of the old priest who was awaiting him in his porch.
"I must beg your reverence for a night's lodging, I am afraid," said
Squire Gerzson, cordially pressing the old clergyman's hand. "There is
serious illness at the baron's house so I don't want to incommode them
with my company. All I want is a place whereon to lay my head. My wants
are few. You know me of old."
"Gladly will I share with your honour the little I have. God hath
brought you hither. I am glad you did not stay at the castle. The
company there is not fit for your honour."
"Then there is company there, eh? What sort of folks are they?"
"Folks I should not care about meeting. Drahhowecz and Muntya, and
Harastory, and Brinko, and Bandan, and Kerakoricz, and . . ."
"That will do," interrupted Mr. Gerzson, aghast at so many odd, strange
names not one of which he had ever heard of before. "New comers, I
suppose?"
"I was sure their names would be quite unfamiliar to your honour,"
remarked the priest smiling, and he led his guest into his narrow
dwelling, looking cautiously round first of all to make sure that nobody
was listening. Once inside he carefully barred the door, seated his
guest at the carved wooden table, which was covered with a pretty
covering made from foal-skin, and filled a dish with fresh maize
pottage, adding thereto a ham bone and a jug of mead.
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