The drawbridge was thrown across, the portcullis pulled up, and Sir Thomas Mortimer rode into the courtyard, followed by Reginald de Pageham and various other members of the Earl’s household. They had evidently ridden a long way, for their horses were exceedingly jaded. "How does my Lord Roger?" were the first words of Sir Thomas, and the porter perceived that he was either very tired, or very sad. "Well, sweet Sir: in his bed, as a child should be at this hour." "Thank God! Bid Mistress Wenteline down to hall, for I must speak with her quickly." "Sweet Sir, I pray you of your grace, is aught ill?" "Very ill indeed, good Alan." But Sir Thomas did not explain himself until Guenllian appeared. It was necessary to rouse her gently, since she slept in little Roger’s chamber, and Sir Thomas had given orders that if possible he should not be disturbed. Fearing she knew not what, Guenllian wrapped herself in a thick robe, and descended to the hall. "Mistress, I give you good greeting: and I do you to wit right heavy tidings, for Lord Edmund the Earl lieth dead in Cork Castle." A low cry of pain and horror broke from Guenllian. "Surely not slain of the wild men?" "In no wise. He died a less glorious death, for he took ill rheum, fording the Lee, and in five days therefrom he was no more." It was as natural for a Lollard as for any other to respond, "Whose soul God pardon!" "Amen," said Sir Thomas, crossing himself. "I trust you, mistress mine, to break these tidings to the young Earl. Have here my dead Lord’s token"—and he held forth a chased gold ring. "I am bidden, if it shall stand with the King’s pleasure, to have back his little Lordship to my Lady his grandmother at Wigmore." "Poor child!" said Guenllian tremulously. "Poor child!" "Aye, ’tis sad news for him," was the answer. "Yet childre’s grief lasteth not long. Methought, good my mistress, it were as well he should not hear it until the morrow." "Trust me, Sir. It were cruelty to wake a child up to such news. Aye, but I am woe for my little child! Mereckoneth he were not one to grow up well without a father—and without mother belike! The morrow’s tears shall be the least part of his sorrow." "Ah, well! God must do His will," replied Sir Thomas in a fatalistic manner.