osed visors, sat their horses on either side, while in the
centre, with two pages to tend upon him, there stood a noble-faced man
in flowing purple gown, who pricked off upon a sheet of parchment the
style and title of each applicant, marshalling them in their due order,
and giving to each the place and facility which his rank demanded. His
long white beard and searching eyes imparted to him an air of masterful
dignity, which was increased by his tabardlike vesture and the heraldic
barret cap with triple plume which bespoke his office.

"It is Sir William de Pakington, the prince's own herald and scrivener,"
whispered Sir Nigel, as they pulled up amid the line of knights who
waited admission. "Ill fares it with the man who would venture to
deceive him. He hath by rote the name of every knight of France or of
England; and all the tree of his family, with his kinships, coat-armor,
marriages, augmentations, abatements, and I know not what beside. We
may leave our horses here with the varlets, and push forward with our
squires."

Following Sir Nigel's counsel, they pressed on upon foot until they were
close to the prince's secretary, who was in high debate with a young and
foppish knight, who was bent upon making his way past him.

"Mackworth!" said the king-at-arms. "It is in my mind, young sir, that
you have not been presented before."

"Nay, it is but a day since I set foot in Bordeaux, but I feared lest
the prince should think it strange that I had not waited upon him."

"The prince hath other things to think upon," quoth Sir William de
Pakington; "but if you be a Mackworth you must be a Mackworth of
Normanton, and indeed I see now that your coat is sable and ermine."

"I am a Mackworth of Normanton," the other answered, with some
uneasiness of manner.

"Then you must be Sir Stephen Mackworth, for I learn that when old
Sir Guy died he came in for the arms and the name, the war-cry and the
profit."

"Sir Stephen is my elder brother, and I am Arthur, the second son," said
the youth.

"In sooth and in sooth!" cried the king-at-arms with scornful eyes. "And
pray, sir second son, where is the cadency mark which should mark your
rank. Dare you to wear your brother's coat without the crescent which
should stamp you as his cadet. Away to your lodgings, and come not
nigh the prince until the armorer hath placed the true charge upon your
shield." As the youth withdrew in confusion, Sir William's keen eye
singled out th