" Ralph held his peace
for a long while; at last he turned a cleared brow to Morfinn and said;
"Dost thou tell of the Lord of Utterbol that he is a good lord and merciful
to his folk and servants?"
"Fair sir," said the minstrel; "thou hast bidden me not speak
of one woman, now will I pray thee not to speak of one man,
and that is my Lord of Utterbol."
Ralph's heart fell at this word, and he asked no question as to wherefore.
So now they rode on both, rather more than soberly for a while:
but the day was fair; the sun shone, the wind blew, and the sweet
scents floated about them, and Ralph's heart cast off its burden
somewhat and he fell to speech again; and the minstrel answered
him gaily by seeming, noting many things as they rode along,
as one that took delight in the fashion of the earth.
It was a fresh and bright morning of early autumn,
the sheaves were on the acres, and the grapes were blackening
to the vintage, and the beasts and birds at least were merry.
But little merry were the husbandmen whom they met,
either carles or queans, and they were scantily and foully clad,
and sullen-faced, if not hunger-pinched.
If they came across any somewhat joyous, it was here and there certain
gangrel folk resting on the wayside grass, or coming out of woods and
other passes by twos and threes, whiles with a child or two with them.
These were of aspect like to the gipsies of our time and nation,
and were armed all of them, and mostly well clad after their fashion.
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