"Not until thou showest thine errand," said the equally imperative
interrogator within; who, having the unequivocal and somewhat ponderous
advantage of a pair of stout-built and well-furnished gates to back, or
rather face, him in the controversy, was consequently in a fair way for
keeping on the strong side of the argument.
"Now, o' my troth, but ye be a pair of rude curs, barking from a warm
kennel at your betters, who are shivering in the cold, without so much
as a bone to pick, or a wisp of straw to their tails! Well, well, 'tis
soon said; every dog, you know,--and 'twill be my turn soon. I come
hither from the castle at Halton, where my Lady Fitz-Eustace would lay
your curs' noses to the grinding-stone; but, rest her soul, she will not
long be above ground, I trow. Know then, masters, I am her seneschal,
whom she sends with a goodly train to the burying. Quick, old goat-face,
or we will singe thy beard to light thee to our discovery."
The gates were immediately unbolted at this command, opening wide before
so dignified a personage, who, as the representative of the
Fitz-Eustace, was evidently impressed with a sufficient sense of his own
importance, while he and his attendants rode through the grim Norman
arch into the courtyard.
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