good living if it was there at all.
De Cantelupe said no more, but rode along looking around him. They were obviously following a well-used route into the town, judging by the way the bare chalk had been worn. The horses hooves clopped rhythmically, the sun shone, and he felt his fears subsiding. After all, he told himself, they carried a message of peace to the King. What harm could befall them, two Bishops, riding peaceably long, with a few men to guide and protect them? They were doing nothing that they might not do under very different circumstances. They presented no danger to the King; on the contrary.
He drew a deep breath and sat up straighter in his saddle. Beside him, Richard de Sandwich looked at him in surprise.
"You would appear to be enjoying the morning, my lord Bishop?" he enquired sardonically.
"Indeed, indeed!" said his companion. "And why not? We are surely in no danger while we carry out this task?"
"Hmm," said Richard de Sandwich.
De Cantelupe shrugged his shoulders. Obviously, his companion was in a sour mood as usual. Well, he would not trouble himself with this tiresome man, but make what he could of the journey. and no doubt, he suddenly thought with a lift of his heart, there would be some hospitality offered by the Prior of Lewes, if not by the King himself. He hummed a snatch of music under his breath.
BOSON BOOKS
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Belaset’s Daughter
It was a shorter ride than he realised. In no time, it seemed, the little party was trotting up a slope and down the other side, towards the Priory which lay spread out below them.
The four men who were supposed to be protecting them (although they were totally unnecessary, Walter de Cantelupe assured himself) placed themselves two in front and two behind, as they began the descent to the great gate. They could see the upheaval wrought by the King s coming, in the bustle of may people inside and outside the Priory.
There were others of his supporters staying in the Castle, since de Warenne was well-known as a loyal subject.
By far the greatest number of people were the soldiers and camp followers. The little party was surprised by the size of the army encamped on the outskirts of the Priory. It was like a separate town, sprung up in the course of a few days. Walter de Cantelupe felt his previous anxiety starting again, and even Richard de Sandwich looked worried for a fleeting second, before he assumed his customary mask of indifferent superiority. The guard on his right raised a short staff with a white flag fixed to it, as they rode closer and closer to their destination.
At last, there was a shout from the guard on the Priory gate, as he saw the group of horsemen coming toward him. His cry brought out a group of soldiers from where they had been sitting just inside the priory wall. They made as if to draw their swords, then one of them pointed, and the swords were sheathed again.
As the two bishops and their guard came up the priory, them man who had pointed at them stepped forward. He looked suspiciously at the guard, then at the two bishops.
"Well, my lords?" he said, with a certain gruff politeness. "What is your will?"
Richard de Sandwich gazed back at him.
"We come in peace to see His Majesty," he said, with all the haughtiness of which he was capable. "I advise you to let us through, or you will rue it."
There was a snigger from the soldiers watching the exchange, quickly shushed by one of them. The man who had asked their business looked hard at all the party again, but did not move aside. Instead, he called out to the men behind him, without turning his head.
"One of you go and find someone who will give permission for these people to enter,"
he called. "I will keep them here until you return!"
De Sandwich s face darkened.
"You will dare to keep my lord the Bishop of London, and myself, the Bishop of Worcester, waiting here at the gate?" he said, wrathfully.
"Aye, my lord," answered the soldier, standing firm. I would keep Simon de Montfort himself waiting, if need be! All who enter must be proved to be no threat to His Majesty, and to have permission from a higher authority than I possess."
He folded his arms and stared back at the blazing eyes that Richard de Sandwich fixed on him. Unlike the priests, this man, toughened by