“My good uncle at Wearmouth hath been dead these four years—so far as I can gather. Amply must he have supplied Master Groot. I must account with him. For mine inheritance I can gather nothing clearly. I fancy the truth is that George Copeland, who holds it, is little better than a reiver on either side, and that King Edward might grant it back to me if I paid my homage, save that he is sworn never to pardon any who had a share in the death of his brother of Rutland.” “You had not! I know you had not!” “Hurt Ned? I’d as soon have hurt my own brother! Nay, I got this blow from Clifford for coming between,” said he, pushing back his hair so as to show a mark near his temple. “But how did you know?” “Harry Featherstone told me.” She had all but said, “My father’s squire.” “You knew Featherstone? Belike when he was at Whitburn. He is here now; a good man of his hands,” muttered Leonard. “Anyway the King believes I had a hand in that cruel business of Wakefield Bridge, and nought but his witness would save my neck if once I ventured into England—if that would. So I may resign myself to be the Duke’s captain of archers for the rest of my days. Heigh ho! And a lonely man; I fear me in debt to good Master Lambert, or may be to Mistress Grisell, to whom I owe more than coin will pay. Ha! was that—” interrupting himself, for a trumpet blast was ringing out at intervals, the signal of summons to the men-at-arms. Leonard started up, waved farewell, and rushed off. The summons proved to be a call to the men-at-arms to attend the Duke early the next morning on an expedition to visit his fortresses in Picardy, and as the household of the Green Serpent returned from mass, they heard the tramp and clatter, and saw the armour flash in the sun as the troop passed along the main street, and became visible at the opening of that up which they walked. The next day came a summons from the convent of the Grey Sisters that Mistress Griselda was to attend the Duchess Isabel. She longed to fly through the air, but her limbs trembled. Indeed, she shook so that she could not stand still nor walk slowly. She hurried on so that the lay sister who had been sent for her was quite out of breath, and panted after her within gasps of “Stay! stay, mistress! No bear is after us! She runs as though a mad ox had got loose!” Her heart was wild enough for anything! She might have to hear from her kind Duchess that all was vain and unnoticed.