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Chapter 32

           "Ihavebuttosay,"addedtheSaxon,"that,duringthefuneralritesofthenobleAthelstane,IshallbeaninhabitantofthehallsofhiscastleofConingsburgh—Theywillbeopentoallwhochoosetopartakeofthefuneralbanqueting;and,IspeakinnameofthenobleEdith,motherofthefallenprince,theywillneverbeshutagainsthimwholabouredsobravely,thoughunsuccessfully,tosaveAthelstanefromNormanchainsandNormansteel."

           "Ay,ay,"saidWamba,whohadresumedhisattendanceonhismaster,"rarefeedingtherewillbe—pitythatthenobleAthelstanecannotbanquetathisownfuneral.—Buthe,"continuedtheJester,liftinguphiseyesgravely,"issuppinginParadise,anddoubtlessdoeshonourtothecheer."

           "Peace,andmoveon,"saidCedric,hisangeratthisuntimelyjestbeingcheckedbytherecollectionofWamba’srecentservices.RowenawavedagracefuladieutohimoftheFetterlock—theSaxonbadeGodspeedhim,andontheymovedthroughawidegladeoftheforest.

           Theyhadscarcedeparted,ereasuddenprocessionmovedfromunderthegreenwoodbranches,sweptslowlyroundthesilvanamphitheatre,andtookthesamedirectionwithRowenaandherfollowers.

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