him away, and he crossed the highway, where he saw no token
of the minstrel.

So they brought him to the pavilion, and made him dismount and led him in.
The dusk had fallen by now, but within it was all bright with candles.
The pavilion was hung with rich silken cloth, and at the further end,
on a carpet of the hunting, was an ivory chair, whereon sat a man,
who was the only one sitting. He was clad in a gown of blue silk,
broidered with roundels beaten with the Bear upon the Castle-wall.

Ralph deemed that this must be no other than the Lord of Utterbol,
yet after all the tales he had heard of that lord, he seemed no such
terrible man: he was short of stature, but broad across the shoulders,
his hair long, strait, and dark brown of hue, and his beard scanty:
he was straight-featured and smooth-faced, and had been no ill-looking man,
save that his skin was sallow and for his eyes, which were brown, small,
and somewhat bloodshot.

Beside him stood Morfinn bowed down with fear and not daring
to look either at the Lord or at Ralph. Wherefore he knew
for certain that when he had called him traitor even now,
that it was no more than the very sooth, and that he had fallen
into the trap; though how or why he wotted not clearly.
Well then might his heart have fallen, but so it was, that when
he looked into the face of this Lord, the terror of the lands,
hatred of him so beset his heart that it swallowed up fear in him.
Albeit he held himself well in hand, for his soul was waxing,
and he deemed that he should yet do great deeds, therefore he
desired to live, whatsoever pains or shame of the passing day
he might suffer.