In the hall of Rotherwood at the centre of the upper table sat Cedric the Saxon, irritable at the delay of his evening meal, and impatient for the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, and the return of his swineherd Gurth.  “They have been carried off to serve the Norman lords,” he exclaimed.  “But I will be avenged.  Haply they think me old, but they shall find the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric.  Ah, Wilfred, Wilfred!” he went on in a lower tone, “couldst thou have ruled thine unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like the solitary oak that throws out its shattered branches against the full sweep of the tempest!”

From his melancholy reflections, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the blast of a horn.

“To the gate, knaves!” said the Saxon, hastily.  “See what tidings that horn tells us of.”

Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced “that the Prior Aymer of Jorvank, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Commander of the Order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a tournament to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche.”

“Normans both,” muttered Cedric; “but, Norman or Saxon, the hospitality of Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome since they have chosen to halt; in the quality of guests, even Normans must suppress their insolence.”

The folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast wide, and preceded by the major domo with his wand, and four domestics bearing blazing torches, the guests of the evening entered the apartment, followed by their attendants, and, at a more humble distance, by a pilgrim, wearing the sandals and broad hat of the palmer.

No sooner were the guests seated, and the repast about to commence, than the major domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud—­“Forbear!—­Place for the Lady Rowena.”  A side door at the upper end of the hall now opened, and Cedric’s ward, Rowena, a Saxon lady of rare beauty and lofty character, entered.  All stood up to receive her, and, as she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board, the Knight Templar’s eyes bent on her with an ardour that made Rowena draw with dignity the veil around her face.

Cedric and the Prior discoursed on hunting for a time, the Lady Rowena seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendants; while the haughty Templar’s eye wandered from the Saxon beauty to the rest of the company.

“Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar,” said Cedric, “and fill another to the Abbot.  To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race or language what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the champions of the Cross!”

“To whom, besides the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulchre, whose badge I wear, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?” said Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert.