London lies to the South, my son,"
said the Abbot, with a smile.

De Lacy laughed. "Never fear--I shall be there--Deo volente."

"You have learned the Christian virtue of humility, at all events,"
said the priest, as they entered the hall, where the monks were already
seated around the long tables, awaiting the coming of the Abbot. Upon
his appearance they all arose and remained standing while the
Chancellor droned a Latin blessing. Then he took his carved chair at
the smaller table on the dais, with the Knight beside him, and the
repast began. During the meal, the Abbot made no effort to obtain his
guest's destination or mission, but discussed matters of general
import. He, himself, contrary to the usual habits of the monks of his
day, ate but little, and when De Lacy had finished he withdrew with him.

"You are anxious to be on your way," he said, "and I will not detain
you. These roads are scarce pleasant after night-fall."

In the courtyard the men-at-arms were drawn up awaiting the order to
mount.

"Verily, you ride well attended, my son. The roads need not bother
you," said the Abbot, as he ran his eyes over the array. . . "Methinks
I have seen your face before," looking hard at Raynor Royk.

"Like as not, your reverence," said the old retainer calmly; "I am no
stranger in Yorkshire."

At that moment Dauvrey led the Knight's horse forward, and Aymer turned
to the monk before he could address another question to Raynor.

"I am much beholden, my lord Abbot, for your kindly entertainment and I
hope some day I may requite it. Farewell."

"Farewell, my son," returned the monk. "May the peace of the Holy
Benedict rest upon you."

He watched them until the last horseman had clattered through the
gateway, then turned away.

"My mitre on it, they are Gloucester's men," he muttered.

When they had quit the Abbey, De Lacy again summoned Raynor Royk and
questioned him regarding the Abbot of Kirkstall. The old soldier, like
the majority of his fellows who made fighting a business, had a
contemptuous indifference to the clerical class. A blessing or a curse
was alike of little consequence to men who feared neither God, man, nor
Devil, and who would as readily strip a sleek priest as a good, fat
merchant. Raynor's words were blunt and to the point. He knew nothing
of the Abbot except through the gossip of the camp and guard-room, and
that made him a cadet of a noble family of the South of England, wh