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turned south to pick up the Richmond road, and tall oaks hid all the north bank from sight.
    "Yes," said Will, riding beside Bayard to keep a minatory eye on the horse, and having pursued his own train of thought, "John o' Gaunt's a lucky man - lucky in bed, that is. He's naught but the King's third son, yet I vow he has more lands and castles than his father."
    "How is that?" asked the prioress, sighing. It had begun to drizzle and there was still much road ahead before they reached the convent where she intended to stop that night.
    "By the marriage-bed, madam," said Long Will, laughing, "and by death-beds, too. The Lady Blanche of Lancaster, bless her sweet face, brought him the greatest inheritance in the kingdom, once her father and sister were dead, may their souls rest in peace. They died of plague five years ago, both of 'em, and so the Lady Blanche got all." Katherine, mildly interested, would have questioned further, but the prioress, who had just developed a crick in her back, sharply told her not to talk so much, and Katherine subsided.
    Long Will kicked his roan, which leaped ahead. He hurried them on until they passed near the royal palace at Sheen, deserted now except for a few varlets, since King Edward seldom used it as a residence, preferring Windsor, Woodstock or Eltham when he was not at Westminster. But Sheen was a small, pretty castle floating like a swan on its broad shining moat, and it put Will in a fine humour for the gatekeeper's daughter was a buxom lass, coy enough to make good sport, and she would doubtless be found at Windsor for the merrymaking.
    On the following afternoon, Monday the twentieth of April, they finally reached Windsor, and during the last hour's ride, the road was so thronged they could scarcely move at all. Long Will's voice grew hoarse from shouting, "Make way! Make way for the Queen's messenger!"
    From all the nearby shires, from as far away as Northumberland and Devon and Lincolnshire, the people were flocking to celebrate St. George's Day at Windsor. Weeks ago the King's heralds had galloped throughout the country proclaiming the great tournament and inviting all valorous knights to come and participate. There would be tilting at the quintain and other knightly games; there would be jousts and challenges, and there would be a climaxing tourney, or melee, for all contenders. Most of the knights had arrived at Windsor some days ago, and the lesser ones who could not be accommodated in the castle were already encamped on the plain below the walls in a bivouac of multi-coloured tents; many had brought their ladies and all, of course, their squires.
    But the common people, though not specifically invited, were welcome, too. For these, five hundred oxen were roasting at charcoal fires dotted around the fields, vats of beer had been . set up, and a thousand loaves of barley bread already baked for distribution.
    While Long Will expertly wormed his way through the streets of Windsor towards the castle gate they were jostled by prosperous merchants, beggars, palmers with cockleshells in their broad hats, whores in hoods of scarlet ray, respectable goodwives with their children, mummers and gleemen, all clamorous with holiday mood.
    Katherine was a little frightened by the noise and confusion, and Dame Cicily was in tears as usual. Her habit had been caught by the gold spur of a passing knight as he shoved his horse impatiently through the press and now a jagged rip divided the black wool and shamefully exposed her skinny leg, fumble as she might to hide it. Even Long Will was disconcerted as he manoeuvred his charges, and said, "God's bones, ladies, I don't know where they'll lodge you for I swear there'll not be a cranny vacant in the castle."
    Only the little prioress was imperturbable. "We will wait inside the gates," she said majestically, "until you make known our arrival to the Damoiselle de Roet's sister, who will doubtless have made provision for us."
    So they rode through the