“Welcome to Norham, Marmion! 
     Stout heart and open hand! 
     Thou flower of English land!”

Two pursuivants stood at the entrance to the donjon, and hailed the guest as Lord of Fontenaye, of Lutterward, Scrivelbaye, of “Tamworth tower and town.”  To requite their courtesy, Marmion, as he alighted, hung about the neck of each a chain of twelve marks.

“Largesse, largesse, knight of the crest of gold!” cried the heralds, in acknowledgment of the bounty received;

    “’A blazon’d shield in battle won,
       Ne’er guarded heart so bold.’”

As they marshalled him to the castle hall, the guests stood aside, and again the trumpets flourished, and the heralds cried: 

    “’Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion,
        With the crest and helm of gold! 
      Full well we know the trophies won
        In the lists at Cottiswold: 
      There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove
        ’Gainst Marmion’s force to stand;
      To him he lost his lady-love,
        And to the King his land. 
      Ourselves beheld the listed field,
        A sight both sad and fair;
      We saw Lord Marmion pierce the shield,
        And saw the saddle bare;
      We saw the victor win the crest
        He wears with worthy pride;
      And on the gibbet-tree, reversed,
        His foeman’s scutcheon tied. 
      Place, nobles, for the Falcon-Knight! 
        Room, room, ye gentles gay,
      For him who conquered in the right,
        Marmion of Fontenaye!’”

As the welcome died away, forth stepped Sir Hugh, lord of the castle.  He led his visitor to the raised dais and placed him in the seat of honor, while a northern harper chanted a rude hymn.  The ear of Marmion could scarcely brook the barbarous sound, yet much he praised, well knowing that,

    “Lady’s suit, and minstrel’s strain,
     By knight should ne’er be heard in vain.”

As the weird strains died away, the host pressed the English lord to bide long as a guest, promising rest for horse, and refreshment and pleasure for man, with many a joust, or feat at arms, for those who wished to learn northern ways.

At this the brow of Marmion grew dark and stern.  Sir Hugh marked the changed look, and pouring out a bowl of sparkling wine, said: 

    “’Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion: 
        But first I pray thee fair,
      Where hast thou left that page of thine,
        Whose beauty was so rare? 
      When last in Raby towers we met,
        The boy I closely eyed,
      And often marked his cheeks were wet
        With tears he fain would hide.’”

Lord Marmion ill concealed his rising anger, yet he made a calm reply.

“The lad was too frail to endure the northern climate, and I have left him at Lindisfarne.  May I ask, Lord Heron, why the lady of the castle disdains to grace the hall to-day?  Is it because Marmion of Fontenaye is present?”