the lady
of Heron, and with my consent she sits with the noble and fair Queen
Margaret, the bride of royal James."

"Ah!" replied the Heron's noble guest, "if this be so, I will gladly
bear to her your tender messages. I am now, by the request of our good
English King, on my way to the court of Scotland, to learn why James is
gathering troops, why making warlike preparations, and, if it be
possible, I am to persuade him to maintain the peace. From your great
goodness, I make bold to ask for myself and for my train a trusty guide.
I have not ridden in Scotland since James backed Richard, Duke of York,
in his pretensions to the throne of England. Then, as you remember, I
marched with Surrey's forces, and razed to the ground the tower of
Aytoun."

"For such need, my lord, trust old Norham gray. Here are guides who have
spurred far on Scottish ground, who have tasted the ale of St. Bothan,
driven off the beeves of Lauderdale, and fired homes that the inmates
might have light by which to dress themselves."

"In good sooth," replied Lord Marmion, "were I bent on war, a better
guard I could not wish, but I go in form of peace, a friendly messenger
to a foreign King. A plundering border spear might arouse suspicious
fears, and the deadly feud, the thirst for blood, break out in unseemly
broil. More fitting as guide, would be a friar, a pardoner, traveling
priest, or strolling pilgrim."

Sir Hugh musingly passed his hand over his brow, and then replied: "Fain
would I find the guide you need, but, though a bishop built this castle,
few holy brethren resort here. If the priest of Shoreswood were here, he
could rein your wildest horse, but no spearsman in the hall will sooner
strike or join in fray. Friar John of Tilmouth is the very man! He is a
blithesome brother, a welcome guest in hall and hut. He knows each
castle, town and tower in which the ale and wine are good. He now seldom
leaves these walls, but, perchance, in your guard he will go."

In the pause that followed, young Selby, nephew of the Earl of Norham,
respectfully said, "Kind uncle, unhappy we, if harm came to Friar John.
When time hangs heavy in the hall, and the snow lies deep at Christmas
tide, when we can neither hunt nor joust, who will sing the carols, and
sweep away the stake at bowls? Who will lead the games and gambols? Let
Friar John in safety fill his chimney corner, roast hissing crabs, or
empty the flagons. Last night, there came to Norham Castle a