I will dress, and when I have
bid farewell to the noble Dame Ermyntrude I will on to Farnham;
but you will see me here again on the day that the King comes."
So Chandos went his way that evening, walking his horse through
the peaceful lanes and twanging his citole as he went, for he
loved music and was famous for his merry songs. The cottagers
came from their huts and laughed and clapped as the rich full
voice swelled and sank to the cheery tinkling of the strings.
There were few who saw him pass that would have guessed that the
quaint one-eyed man with the yellow hair was the toughest fighter
and craftiest man of war in Europe. Once only, as he entered
Farnham, an old broken man-at-arms ran out in his rags and
clutched at his horse as a dog gambols round his master. Chandos
threw him a kind word and a gold coin as he passed on to the
castle.
In the meanwhile young Nigel and the Lady Ermyntrude, left alone
with their difficulties, looked blankly in each other's faces.
"The cellar is well nigh empty," said Nigel. "There are two
firkins of small beer and a tun of canary. How can we set such
drink before the King and his court?"
"We must have some wine of Bordeaux. With that and the mottled
cow's calf and the fowls and a goose, we can set forth a
sufficient repast if he stays only for the one night. How many
will be with him?"
"A dozen, at the least.
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