There penetrated into the babble of their voices slight sounds from the open air, and a hush fell in the place. Without doubt they heard cheering, and quickly the pages of all the company ranged themselves in a parti-coloured and silken fringe before the steel of the men at arms that held the commonalty behind the pillars. The great oaken doors wavered slowly backwards at the end of the hall, and they perceived the road winding down from them through the grass on the glacis, the greyness of the sea and sky, and the foam breaking on the rocks of the Farne Islands. A ship, whose bellying sails appeared to be almost black, was making between the islands and the shore. At times she stood high on a roller, at times she was so low amongst the tumble that they could hardly see more than the barrels at the mastheads and the red cross of St. Andrew on her white flag. The Border Warden said that this was the ship of Barton, the Scots pirate, and some held that this was a great impudence of him, but others said that the weather was so heavy outside that he was seeking the shelter of the islands, and certainly none of their boats could come at him in the sea there was. And this topic held their attentions until the sound of a horn reached them. This was certainly the Young Lovell’s page seeking admission to the Castle, so that he was near enough. The monstrous head of a caparisoned horse, held back by ribands of green and vermilion silk, came into view by the arch. It rose on high and disappeared, so that they knew it was rearing. Then it came all down again and forged slowly into view, the little page Hal and Young Lovell’s horse boy, Richard Raket, that had lost his teeth at Kenchie’s Burn, holding the shortened ribands now near the bit on either side. The common men threw up their bonnets and took the chance of finding them again; the ladies waved scarves, the Bishop made a benediction. The man in shining steel was high up in the archway against the sea. Such bright armour was never seen in those parts before, the light poured off it in sheathes, like rain. The head was quite round, the visor fluted and down, at the saddle bow the iron shaft of the partisan was gilded; the swordbelt and the scabbard were of scarlet velvet set with emeralds. This was the gift of the Lady Rohtraut, and those were the Lovell colours. The shield showed a red tiger’s head, snarling and dimidiated by the black and silver checkers of the Dacres of Morpeth; the great lance was of scarlet wood tipped with shining steel.