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.
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