the church, with his chancellor at his side. His cowl was thrown back
and the white gown of his Order, which hung full to his feet, was
fastened close to the throat. His face was pale, and the well-cut
features and the small hands betokened his gentle birth. He was,
possibly, about fifty years of age, but his step and bearing were as
easy as De Lacy's own.

"_Benedicite_, my son," said he, as the Knight bent head to the
uplifted hand, "you are welcome, and just in time to join us at the
noonday meal."

"It was to ask refreshment for myself and my men that I halted, and
your reverence has in kindness anticipated me," said De Lacy.

The Abbot turned to the porter: "Brother James," he said, "see that all
are provided for and that the horses have a full allowance of
grain.--And now, there sounds the horn for us. Sir------"

"Aymer de Lacy," filled in the Knight.

"A goodly name, my son; and one dear to Yorkshire hereabouts, although,
now, near forgotten. Have you seen Pontefract?"

"I quit it but this morning."

"In sooth!" said the Abbot, with sudden interest. "And is His Grace of
Gloucester still in presence there?"

"He left shortly before I did."