if we were the holy saints; and here are fresh rushes strewn about the
floor, too. This must be a mistake--it must be an oratory, instead of my
chamber."

"No, no, my Lord; here is our gear, which I bade Sybald and Henry see
bestowed in our chamber. Well, these Franks are come to a pass, indeed!
My grandmother will never believe what we shall have to tell her. Glass
windows and hangings to sleeping chambers! I do not like it I am sure we
shall never be able to sleep, closed up from the free air of heaven in
this way: I shall be always waking, and fancying I am in the chapel at
home, hearing Father Lucas chanting his matins. Besides, my father would
blame me for letting you be made as tender as a Frank. I'll have out
this precious window, if I can."

Luxurious as the young Norman thought the King, the glazing of Laon was
not permanent. It consisted of casements, which could be put up or
removed at pleasure; for, as the court possessed only one set of glass
windows, they were taken down, and carried from place to place, as often
as Louis removed from Rheims to Soissons, Laon, or any other of his royal
castles; so that Osmond did not find much difficulty in displacing them,
and letting in the sharp, cold, wintry breeze. The next thing he did was
to give his young Lord a lecture on his want of courtesy, telling him
that "no wonder the Franks thought he had no more culture than a Viking
(or pirate), fresh caught from Norway. A fine notion he was giving them
of the training he had at Centeville, if he could not even show common
civility to the Queen--a lady! Was that the way Alberic had behaved when
he came to Rouen?"

"Fru Astrida did not make sour faces at him, nor call him a young
savage," replied Richard.

"No, and he gave her no reason to do so; he knew that the first teaching
of a young Knight is to be courteous to ladies--never mind whether fair
and young, or old and foul of favour. Till you learn and note that, Lord
Richard, you will never be worthy of your golden spurs."

"And the King told me she would treat me as a mother," exclaimed Richard.
"Do you think the King speaks the truth, Osmond?"

"That we shall see by his deeds," said Osmond.

"He was very kind while we were in Normandy. I loved him so much better
than the Count de Harcourt; but now I think that the Count is best! I'll
tell you, Osmond, I will never call him grim old Bernard again."

"You had best not, sir, for you will never have