This concluded, Sir Philip went to pay his respects to the Lady of Lynwood, and then, as the hour of noon had arrived, all partook of the meal, which was served in the hall, the Squires waiting on the Knights and the Lady before themselves sitting down to table.

It was the influence of dinner that first unchained the silent tongue of Leonard Ashton, when he found himself seated next to his old acquaintance, Eustace Lynwood, out of hearing of those whose presence inspired him with shyness, and the clatter of knives and trenchers drowning his voice.

“So your brother has let you bear sword after all.  How like you the trade?  Better than poring over crabbed parchments, I trow.  But guess you why we are here to-day?  My father says that I must take service with some honourable Knight, and see somewhat of the world.  He spoke long of the Lord de Clarenham, because his favour would be well in the county; but at last he has fixed on your brother, because he may do somewhat for me with the Prince.”

“Then you are going with us to Bordeaux?” exclaimed Eustace, eagerly.

“Ay, truly.”

“Nay, but that is a right joyful hearing!” said Eustace.  “Old friends should be brethren in arms.”

“But, Eustace,” said young Ashton, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, “I like not that outlandish Squire, so tall and black.  Men say he is a Moor—­a worshipper of Mahound.”

Eustace laughed heartily at this report, and assured his friend that, though he had heard his brother often give his Squire in jest his nom de guerre of Gaston le Maure, yet d’Aubricour was a gallant gentleman of Gascony.  But still Leonard was not satisfied.  “Had ever man born in Christian land such flashing black eyes and white teeth?  And is not he horribly fierce and strict?”

“Never was man of kinder heart and blither temper.”

“Then you think that he will not be sharp with us?  ’More straight in your saddle!’ ‘lance lower!’ ‘head higher;’ that is what has been ringing in my ears from morning till night of late, sometimes enforced by a sharp blow on the shoulders.  Is it not so with you?”

“Oh, old Penrose took all that trouble off their hands long ago.  Gaston is the gentlest of tutors compared with him.”

“I hope so!” sighed Leonard; “my very bones ache with the tutoring I get from my father at home.  And, Eustace, resolve me this—­”

“Hush, do not you see that Father Cyril is about to pronounce the Grace—.  There—­now must I go and serve your father with the grace-cup, but I will be with you anon.”

Leonard put his elbow on the table, mumbling to himself, “And these of Eustace’s be the courtly manners my father would have me learn; they cost a great deal too much trouble!”

The meal over, Eustace took Leonard into the court to visit the horses and inspect the new armour.  They were joined by Gaston, who took upon himself to reply to the question which Leonard wished to have resolved, namely, what they were to do in Castile, by persuading him to believe that Enrique of Trastamare was a giant twenty feet high, who rode a griffin of proportionate dimensions, and led an army whose heads grew under their shoulders.