“Peirol,” he said, “I will see you again.  I have a little plan for you and the pigeons which will, I think, give pleasure to Lady Philippa.”

One of the entertainments arranged to take place was a feast out of doors, in a woodland glade especially suited to it.  Ranulph’s inspiration had to do with this.

Among the guests the only stranger was Sir Gualtier (or Walter) Giffard, younger son of a Norman family.  One of his ancestors had gone to England with Duke William a hundred years before, but the family had not been on good terms with later kings and its fortunes had somewhat fallen.  Every one, however, spoke with respect of this knight and his elder brother, Sir Stephen, and they had been of service to Count Thibaut during his stay in England.  This Giffard had never been so far south before, and he seemed to feel that he had got into some sort of enchanted realm.  He was more soldier than courtier, but his eyes said a great deal.  The luxurious abundance of a Provencal castle, the smooth ease of the serving, the wit and gaiety of the people, all were new to him.  He had attended state banquets, but they were as unlike the entertainment here provided as was the stern simplicity of his boyhood home in Normandy, or the rough-and-tumble camp life of recent years.

The out-of-door dinner was not a hap-hazard picnic, but neither was it in the least stiff or formal.  The servants went by a short cut across the meadow to prepare the tables, while knights and ladies followed the more leisurely path along the river bank.  It was a walk through fairyland.  The very waters were in a holiday mood.  The current strayed from one side to the other, leaving clear still pools and enticing little backwaters, and singing past the elfin islets and huge overshadowing trees, like a gleeful spirit.

Lady Philippa had never looked more lovely.  As the party was not to be seen on a public road, veils and wimples were discarded, and her bright brown hair, braided in two long braids, was crowned only by a circlet of gold set with pearls and emeralds.  The trailing robes worn at formal dinners would also be out of place, and she wore a bliaut or outer robe of her favorite rose-colored silk, a wide border of gold embroidery giving it weight enough to make it hang in graceful lines.  The sleeves were loose and long, the ends almost touching the hem of the gown.  Under this was a violet silk robe of heavier material with bands of ermine at the neck and on the small close sleeves.  Under this again the embroidered edges of a fine white linen robe could be seen at throat and wrists.  The girdle was of braided violet silk, the ends weighted with amethyst and emerald ornaments.  A white mantle of silk and wool, trimmed with fur of the black squirrel, and fastened under the chin with a gold button, and an embroidered alms-purse, completed the costume.  The other ladies of the party were attired as carefully, and the dress of the men was as rich and brilliant as that of the women.  They passed through the wavering light and shadow of the woodlands like a covey of bright-plumaged birds.