the trees, the Almshouse of Noble Poverty at St. Cross, beneath the
round hill of St. Catherine. Churches and monastic buildings stood
thickly in the town, and indeed, Brother Shoveller said, shaking his
head, that there were well-nigh as many churches as folk to go to
them; the place was decayed since the time he remembered when Prince
Arthur was born there. Hyde Abbey he could not show them, from
where they stood, as it lay further off by the river side, having
been removed from the neighbourhood of the Minster, because the
brethren of St. Grimbald could not agree with those of St. Swithun's
belonging to the Minster, as indeed their buildings were so close
together that it was hardly possible to pass between them, and their
bells jangled in each other's ears.

Brother Shoveller did not seem to entertain a very high opinion of
the monks of St. Grimbald, and he asked the boys whether they were
expected there. "No," they said; "tidings of their father's death
had been sent by one of the woodmen, and the only answer that had
been returned was that Master Richard Birkenholt was ill at ease,
but would have masses said for his brother's soul."

"Hem!" said the Augustinian ominously; but at that moment they came
up with the sheep, and his attention was wholly absorbed by them, as
he joined the lay brothers in directing the shepherds who were
driving them across the downs, steering them over the high ground
towards the arched West Gate close to the royal castle. The street
sloped rapidly down, and Brother Shoveller conducted his young
companions between the overhanging houses, with stalls between
serving as shops, till they reached the open space round the Market
Cross, on the steps of which women sat with baskets of eggs, butter,
and poultry, raised above the motley throng of cattle and sheep,