bbed to every one whose eye he
chanced to meet. Between and a little in front of them on a humble
charette or stool, sat a slim, dark young man, whose quiet attire and
modest manner would scarce proclaim him to be the most noted prince in
Europe. A jupon of dark blue cloth, tagged with buckles and pendants of
gold, seemed but a sombre and plain attire amidst the wealth of silk and
ermine and gilt tissue of fustian with which he was surrounded. He sat
with his two hands clasped round his knee, his head slightly bent,
and an expression of impatience and of trouble upon his clear,
well-chiselled features. Behind the thrones there stood two men in
purple gowns, with ascetic, clean-shaven faces, and half a dozen other
high dignitaries and office-holders of Aquitaine. Below on either side
of the steps were forty or fifty barons, knights, and courtiers, ranged
in a triple row to the right and the left, with a clear passage in the
centre.

"There sits the prince," whispered Sir John Chandos, as they entered.
"He on the right is Pedro, whom we are about to put upon the Spanish
throne. The other is Don James, whom we purpose with the aid of God to
help to his throne in Majorca. Now follow me, and take it not to heart
if he be a little short in his speech, for indeed his mind is full of
many very weighty concerns."

The prince, however, had already observed their entrance, and, springing
to his feet, he had advanced with a winning smile and the light of
welcome in his eyes.

"We do not need your good offices as herald here, Sir John," said he in
a low but clear voice; "these valiant knights are very well known to me.
Welcome to Aquitaine, Sir Nigel Loring and Sir Oliver Buttesthorn. Nay,
keep your knee for my sweet father at Windsor. I would have your hands,
my friends. We are like to give you some work to do ere you see the
downs of Hampshire once more. Know you aught of Spain, Sir Oliver?"

"Nought, my sire, save that I have heard men say that there is a dish
named an olla which is prepared there, though I have never been clear in
my mind as to whether it was but a ragout such as is to be found in the
south, or whether there is some seasoning such as fennel or garlic which
is peculiar to Spain."

"Your doubts, Sir Oliver, shall soon be resolved," answered the prince,
laughing heartily, as did many of the barons who surrounded them. "His
majesty here will doubtless order that you have this dish hotly seasoned
when we are al