The Earl besought, nay, as some say, dared to remonstrate, that the marriage should be postponed till the stranger should have been lawfully convicted of falsehood; but his Highness said, “Nay; lest it should seem that the accusation was probable enough to require such delay. It is already well-known, as a matter agreed upon, that the nuptials are to be held on the morrow, the preparations are nearly all made, and they are public. It is necessary for the honour of Sir Gaston de Blondeville, that the appointment should be kept. If you are not convinced, still you will not be required to make disavowal of any thought you may have; for I myself will lead your daughter to the porch, and will so, by my presence and by this act of parental kindness, show my estimation both of the fair bride and of him who shall become your son. Farther proof of my regard shall not be wanting hereafter.” His Highness was peremptory, and the Earl, swayed by his master’s positive opinion, and, it may be, by that promise of regard hereafter, at last obeyed. While these things were passing in the King’s chamber, the unhappy merchant was taken to a turret of the castle, called Cæsar’s Tower; and there, with nothing but a pallet and the bare walls, was left to think of his jeopardy. What his thoughts were I know not; but he was heard sorely to sigh and groan, and with good reason; for, if he knew himself perjured, he knew also, that he should find no mercy from the King; and, if innocent, he could expect little justice against so great a favourite. But, whatever were his meditations, they held not till night, for he was called and led forth of the tower into the presence of the King; and, before even-song, the Prior of Saint Mary’s was in attendance upon his Highness. He was not an aged man, yet was he a stern one. When he was asked whether ever before he had seen the merchant, he answered resolutely, that he had no knowledge of him. The same question being put to the merchant, touching his knowledge of the Prior, he returned a like answer. At this seeming self-contradiction, the King could scarcely command his anger, till it was discovered, that a Prior of Saint Mary’s had died, since the time when the murder was alleged to have been committed, and that it must needs be he, whom the merchant meant. “But, where is the monk, with whom you consulted?” asked the King; “can you tell his name?” “His name was Ewdwyn,” replied the merchant. “He died yesternight!” said the Prior.