"For London?"

"Nay, methinks I heard he rode to York," replied De Lacy, who had
learned enough on the Continent of the ways of churchmen not to tell
them all he knew.

"To York!" said the Abbot in some surprise. "How many men did he take
with him?"

"I was not present when the Duke departed and I did not see his
following," returned Aymer.

The Abbot's keen eyes tried to read behind the answer, but evidently
without success, for his next remark was: "I do not recall your face,
Sir Aymer, among the many Knights who have traversed these parts."

"Your memory is entirely trustworthy," said De Lacy. "I came from
France but lately, and have never seen this section until to-day."

"Fare you not to the coronation?"

"In truth, yes, your reverence; Deo volente."

"Then must you soon turn bridle; London lies to the South, my son,"
said the Abbot, with a smile.

De Lacy laughed. "Never fear--I shall be there--Deo volente."

"You have learned the Christian virtue of humility, at all events,"
said the priest, as they entered the hall, where the monks were already