e was the usual gathering of onlookers, and by the gate stood
the king's own huntsmen, with hawks and hounds.

The first thing I noticed was that the birds were dull and uneasy,
and that the dogs were still more so. The hooded hawks sat with
ruffled feathers, and one or two of the hounds lay on their backs,
with paws drawn to them as if they feared a beating, while the rest
whined, and had no eagerness in them. It seemed closer here than in
the courtyard even, and every one was watching the sky and speaking
in a low voice. Each sound seemed over loud, and overhead the hot
haze brooded without sign of breaking.

The king's chaplain came out, and a lay brother brought him his
mule. He looked at it as I had looked at my horse just now, and his
brow knitted. He was rather a friend of mine.

"Father," I said, "there is somewhat strange in the air. Look at
all the beasts; they feel more than we can."

He nodded to me gravely. Then he said, with his hand smoothing the
wet coat of his mule, which at any other time would have resented
the touch with a squeal, but now did not heed him:

"It minds me of one day in Rome when I was a lad there, at college,
learning. There is a great burning mountain at Naples, and it was
smoking at the time. Then there came--"

"Way for the king!" cried the marshal who waited at the gate, and
the good father had to stand aside with his tale unfinished.

Ethelbert came forth with a smiling return to our salute, and with
him came his mother and the four ladies who were to bear us company
on the way. One of these was, of course, the Lady Hilda, and I
dismounted and left my horse to a groom for the time, having
promised myself the pleasure of helping her to mount.

At that moment the marshal, who was a thane set over all the
ordering of the journey, went to the king and asked him if it might
not be his pleasure to wait for an hour to see if the weather
broke. I think that the king was so taken up with parting words to
the queen that he had hardly noticed the gloom and heat, and
certainly he had not noted the uneasiness of the horses, which was
growing more and more. So he only turned for a moment to the thane,
signing to the man to bring his horse.

"Nay, but a dull start often forebodes a bright ending to a
journey. We will go," he said, laughing.

"Now farewell, mother, for the last time."

He bent his knee for her blessing, doffing his cap as he did so.
And even as he bent I was aware o