Leaving their nags to
the stableman, they entered the best room of the inn, where fresh green
rushes lay all spread upon the floor, and there called for the goodliest
fare that the place afforded. After having eaten heartily they bade the
landlord show them to their rooms, for they were aweary, having ridden
all the way from Dronfield that day. So off they went, grumbling at
having to sleep two in a bed, but their troubles on this score, as well
as all others, were soon lost in the quietness of sleep.
And now came the first gust of wind, rushing past the place, clapping
and banging the doors and shutters, smelling of the coming rain, and all
wrapped in a cloud of dust and leaves. As though the wind had brought a
guest along with it, the door opened of a sudden and in came a friar of
Emmet Priory, and one in high degree, as was shown by the softness and
sleekness of his robes and the richness of his rosary. He called to the
landlord, and bade him first have his mule well fed and bedded in the
stable, and then to bring him the very best there was in the house.
So presently a savory stew of tripe and onions, with sweet little fat
dumplings, was set before him, likewise a good stout pottle of
Malmsey, and straightway the holy friar fell to with great courage and
heartiness, so that in a short time nought was left but a little pool of
gravy in the center of the platter, not large enow to keep the life in a
starving mouse.
In the meantime the storm broke.
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