THE OUTLAW OF TORN

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

To My Friend

JOSEPH E. BRAY

CHAPTER I

Here is a story that has lain dormant for seven hundred years. At firstit was suppressed by one of the Plantagenet kings of England. Later itwas forgotten. I happened to dig it up by accident. The accident beingthe relationship of my wife's cousin to a certain Father Superior in avery ancient monastery in Europe. 

He let me pry about among a quantity of mildewed and musty manuscriptsand I came across this. It is very interesting--partially since it is abit of hitherto unrecorded history, but principally from the fact thatit records the story of a most remarkable revenge and the adventurouslife of its innocent victim--Richard, the lost prince of England. 

In the retelling of it, I have left out most of the history. Whatinterested me was the unique character about whom the tale revolves--thevisored horseman who--but let us wait until we get to him. 

It all happened in the thirteenth century, and while it was happening, it shook England from north to south and from east to west; and reachedacross the channel and shook France. It started, directly, in the Londonpalace of Henry III, and was the result of a quarrel between the Kingand his powerful brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester. 

Never mind the quarrel, that's history, and you can read all about it atyour leisure. But on this June day in the year of our Lord 1243, Henryso forgot himself as to very unjustly accuse De Montfort of treason inthe presence of a number of the King's gentlemen. 

De Montfort paled. He was a tall, handsome man, and when he drew himselfto his full height and turned those gray eyes on the victim of hiswrath, as he did that day, he was very imposing. A power in England, second only to the King himself, and with the heart of a lion in him, heanswered the King as no other man in all England would have dared answerhim. 

"My Lord King, " he cried, "that you be my Lord King alone prevents Simonde Montfort from demanding satisfaction for such a gross insult. Thatyou take advantage of your kingship to say what you would never dare saywere you not king, brands me not a traitor, though it does brand you acoward. "

Tense silence fell upon the little company of lords and courtiers asthese awful words fell from the lips of a subject, addressed to hisking. They were horrified, for De Montfort's bold challenge was to thembut little short of sacrilege. 

Henry, flushing in mortification and anger, rose to advance upon DeMontfort, but suddenly recollecting the power which he represented, hethought better of whatever action he contemplated and, with a haughtysneer, turned to his courtiers. 

"Come, my gentlemen, " he said, "methought that we were to have a turnwith the foils this morning. Already it waxeth late. Come, DeFulm! Come, Leybourn!" and the King left the apartment followed by his gentlemen, all of whom had drawn away from the Earl of Leicester when it becameapparent that the royal displeasure was strong against him. As thearras fell behind the departing King, De Montfort shrugged his broadshoulders, and turning, left the apartment by another door. 

When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the armory he was stillsmarting from the humiliation of De Montfort's reproaches, and as helaid aside his surcoat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm, his eyes alighted on the master of fence, Sir Jules de Vac, who wasadvancing with the King's foil and helmet. Henry felt in no mood forfencing with De Fulm, who, like the other sycophants that surroundedhim, always allowed the King easily to best him in every encounter. 

De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman to permithimself to be overcome by aught but superior skill, and this day Henryfelt that he could best the devil himself. 

The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off theguard room. It was built in a small wing of the building so that ithad light from three sides. In charge of it was the lean, grizzled, leather-skinned Sir Jules de Vac, and it was he whom Henry commanded toface him in mimic combat with the foils, for the King wished to go withhammer and tongs at someone to vent his suppressed rage. 

So he let De Vac assume to his mind's eye the person of the hated DeMontfort, and it followed that De Vac was nearly surprised into an earlyand mortifying defeat by the King's sudden and clever attack. 

Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that dayhe quite outdid himself and, in his imagination, was about to runthe pseudo De Montfort through the heart, to the wild acclaim of hisaudience. For this fell purpose he had backed the astounded De Vac twicearound the hall when, with a clever feint, and backward step, the masterof fence drew the King into the position he wanted him, and with thesuddenness of lightning, a little twist of his foil sent Henry's weaponclanging across the floor of the armory. 

For an instant, the King stood as tense and white as though the hand ofdeath had reached out and touched his heart with its icy fingers. The episode meant more to him than being bested in play by the bestswordsman in England--for that surely was no disgrace--to Henry itseemed prophetic of the outcome of a future struggle when he shouldstand face to face with the real De Montfort; and then, seeing in DeVac only the creature of his imagination with which he had vested thelikeness of his powerful brother-in-law, Henry did what he should liketo have done to the real Leicester. Drawing off his gauntlet he advancedclose to De Vac. 

"Dog!" he hissed, and struck the master of fence a stinging blow acrossthe face, and spat upon him. Then he turned on his heel and strode fromthe armory. 

De Vac had grown old in the service of the kings of England, but hehated all things English and all Englishmen. The dead King John, thoughhated by all others, he had loved, but with the dead King's bones DeVac's loyalty to the house he served had been buried in the Cathedral ofWorcester. 

During the years he had served as master of fence at the English Court, the sons of royalty had learned to thrust and parry and cut as onlyDe Vac could teach the art, and he had been as conscientious in thedischarge of his duties as he had been in his unswerving hatred andcontempt for his pupils. 

And now the English King had put upon him such an insult as might onlybe wiped out by blood. 

As the blow fell, the wiry Frenchman clicked his heels together, andthrowing down his foil, he stood erect and rigid as a marble statuebefore his master. White and livid was his tense drawn face, but hespoke no word. 

He might have struck the King, but then there would have been left tohim no alternative save death by his own hand; for a king may not fightwith a lesser mortal, and he who strikes a king may not live--the king'shonor must be satisfied. 

Had a French king struck him, De Vac would have struck back, and gloriedin the fate which permitted him to die for the honor of France; but anEnglish King--pooh! a dog; and who would die for a dog? No, De Vac wouldfind other means of satisfying his wounded pride. He would revel inrevenge against this man for whom he felt no loyalty. If possible, hewould harm the whole of England if he could, but he would bide his time. He could afford to wait for his opportunity if, by waiting, he couldencompass a more terrible revenge. 

De Vac had been born in Paris, the son of a French officer reputed thebest swordsman in France. The son had followed closely in the footstepsof his father until, on the latter's death, he could easily claim thetitle of his sire. How he had left France and entered the service ofJohn of England is not of this story. All the bearing that the life ofJules de Vac has upon the history of England hinges upon but two of hismany attributes--his wonderful swordsmanship and his fearful hatred forhis adopted country. 

CHAPTER II

South of the armory of Westminster Palace lay the gardens, and here, onthe third day following the King's affront to De Vac, might have been aseen a black-haired woman gowned in a violet cyclas, richly embroideredwith gold about the yoke and at the bottom of the loose-pointed sleeves, which reached almost to the similar bordering on the lower hem of thegarment. A richly wrought leathern girdle, studded with precious stones, and held in place by a huge carved buckle of gold, clasped the garmentabout her waist so that the upper portion fell outward over the girdleafter the manner of a blouse. In the girdle was a long dagger ofbeautiful workmanship. Dainty sandals encased her feet, while a wimpleof violet silk bordered in gold fringe, lay becomingly over her head andshoulders. 

By her side walked a handsome boy of about three, clad, like hiscompanion, in gay colors. His tiny surcoat of scarlet velvet was richwith embroidery, while beneath was a close-fitting tunic of whitesilk. His doublet was of scarlet, while his long hose of white werecross-gartered with scarlet from his tiny sandals to his knees. On theback of his brown curls sat a flat-brimmed, round-crowned hat in which asingle plume of white waved and nodded bravely at each move of the proudlittle head. 

The child's features were well molded, and his frank, bright eyes gavean expression of boyish generosity to a face which otherwise would havebeen too arrogant and haughty for such a mere baby. As he talked withhis companion, little flashes of peremptory authority and dignity, whichsat strangely upon one so tiny, caused the young woman at times toturn her head from him that he might not see the smiles which she couldscarce repress. 

Presently the boy took a ball from his tunic, and, pointing at a littlebush near them, said, "Stand you there, Lady Maud, by yonder bush. Iwould play at toss. "

The young woman did as she was bid, and when she had taken her placeand turned to face him the boy threw the ball to her. Thus they playedbeneath the windows of the armory, the boy running blithely after theball when he missed it, and laughing and shouting in happy glee when hemade a particularly good catch. 

In one of the windows of the armory overlooking the garden stood a grim, gray, old man, leaning upon his folded arms, his brows drawn together ina malignant scowl, the corners of his mouth set in a stern, cold line. 

He looked upon the garden and the playing child, and upon the lovelyyoung woman beneath him, but with eyes which did not see, for De Vac wasworking out a great problem, the greatest of all his life. 

For three days, the old man had brooded over his grievance, seeking forsome means to be revenged upon the King for the insult which Henry hadput upon him. Many schemes had presented themselves to his shrewdand cunning mind, but so far all had been rejected as unworthy of theterrible satisfaction which his wounded pride demanded. 

His fancies had, for the most part, revolved about the unsettledpolitical conditions of Henry's reign, for from these he felt he mightwrest that opportunity which could be turned to his own personal usesand to the harm, and possibly the undoing, of the King. 

For years an inmate of the palace, and often a listener in the armorywhen the King played at sword with his friends and favorites, De Vac hadheard much which passed between Henry III and his intimates that couldwell be turned to the King's harm by a shrewd and resourceful enemy. 

With all England, he knew the utter contempt in which Henry held theterms of the Magna Charta which he so often violated along with hiskingly oath to maintain it. But what all England did not know, De Vachad gleaned from scraps of conversation dropped in the armory: thatHenry was even now negotiating with the leaders of foreign mercenaries, and with Louis IX of France, for a sufficient force of knights andmen-at-arms to wage a relentless war upon his own barons that he mighteffectively put a stop to all future interference by them with the royalprerogative of the Plantagenets to misrule England. 

If he could but learn the details of this plan, thought De Vac: thepoint of landing of the foreign troops; their numbers; the first pointof attack. Ah, would it not be sweet revenge indeed to balk the King inthis venture so dear to his heart!

A word to De Clare, or De Montfort would bring the barons and theirretainers forty thousand strong to overwhelm the King's forces. 

And he would let the King know to whom, and for what cause, he wasbeholden for his defeat and discomfiture. Possibly the barons woulddepose Henry, and place a new king upon England's throne, and then DeVac would mock the Plantagenet to his face. Sweet, kind, delectablevengeance, indeed! And the old man licked his thin lips as though totaste the last sweet vestige of some dainty morsel. 

And then Chance carried a little leather ball beneath the window wherethe old man stood; and as the child ran, laughing, to recover it, DeVac's eyes fell upon him, and his former plan for revenge melted as thefog before the noonday sun; and in its stead there opened to him thewhole hideous plot of fearsome vengeance as clearly as it were writ uponthe leaves of a great book that had been thrown wide before him. And, in so far as he could direct, he varied not one jot from the detailsof that vividly conceived masterpiece of hellishness during the twentyyears which followed. 

The little boy who so innocently played in the garden of his royalfather was Prince Richard, the three-year-old son of Henry III ofEngland. No published history mentions this little lost prince; only thesecret archives of the kings of England tell the story of his strangeand adventurous life. His name has been blotted from the records of men;and the revenge of De Vac has passed from the eyes of the world; thoughin his time it was a real and terrible thing in the hearts of theEnglish. 

CHAPTER III

For nearly a month, the old man haunted the palace, and watched in thegardens for the little Prince until he knew the daily routine of histiny life with his nurses and governesses. 

He saw that when the Lady Maud accompanied him, they were wont to repairto the farthermost extremities of the palace grounds where, by a littlepostern gate, she admitted a certain officer of the Guards to whom theQueen had forbidden the privilege of the court. 

There, in a secluded bower, the two lovers whispered their hopes andplans, unmindful of the royal charge playing neglected among the flowersand shrubbery of the garden. 

Toward the middle of July De Vac had his plans well laid. He had managedto coax old Brus, the gardener, into letting him have the key to thelittle postern gate on the plea that he wished to indulge in a midnightescapade, hinting broadly of a fair lady who was to be the partner ofhis adventure, and, what was more to the point with Brus, at the sametime slipping a couple of golden zecchins into the gardener's palm. 

Brus, like the other palace servants, considered De Vac a loyal retainerof the house of Plantagenet. Whatever else of mischief De Vac might beup to, Brus was quite sure that in so far as the King was concerned, thekey to the postern gate was as safe in De Vac's hands as though Henryhimself had it. 

The old fellow wondered a little that the morose old master of fenceshould, at his time in life, indulge in frivolous escapades morebefitting the younger sprigs of gentility, but, then, what concern wasit of his? Did he not have enough to think about to keep the gardensso that his royal master and mistress might find pleasure in the shadedwalks, the well-kept sward, and the gorgeous beds of foliage plants andblooming flowers which he set with such wondrous precision in the formalgarden?

Further, two gold zecchins were not often come by so easily as this;and if the dear Lord Jesus saw fit, in his infinite wisdom, to take thismeans of rewarding his poor servant, it ill became such a worm as he toignore the divine favor. So Brus took the gold zecchins and De Vac thekey, and the little prince played happily among the flowers of his royalfather's garden, and all were satisfied; which was as it should havebeen. 

That night, De Vac took the key to a locksmith on the far side ofLondon; one who could not possibly know him or recognize the keyas belonging to the palace. Here he had a duplicate made, waitingimpatiently while the old man fashioned it with the crude instruments ofhis time. 

From this little shop, De Vac threaded his way through the dirty lanesand alleys of ancient London, lighted at far intervals by an occasionalsmoky lantern, until he came to a squalid tenement but a short distancefrom the palace. 

A narrow alley ran past the building, ending abruptly at the bank of theThames in a moldering wooden dock, beneath which the inky waters of theriver rose and fell, lapping the decaying piles and surging far beneaththe dock to the remote fastnesses inhabited by the great fierce dockrats and their fiercer human antitypes. 

Several times De Vac paced the length of this black alley in search ofthe little doorway of the building he sought. At length he came upon it, and, after repeated pounding with the pommel of his sword, it was openedby a slatternly old hag. 

"What would ye of a decent woman at such an ungodly hour?" she grumbled. "Ah, 'tis ye, my lord?" she added, hastily, as the flickering rays ofthe candle she bore lighted up De Vac's face. "Welcome, my Lord, thricewelcome. The daughter of the devil welcomes her brother. "

"Silence, old hag, " cried De Vac. "Is it not enough that you leech meof good marks of such a quantity that you may ever after wear mantlesof villosa and feast on simnel bread and malmsey, that you must needsburden me still further with the affliction of thy vile tongue?

"Hast thou the clothes ready bundled and the key, also, to this gateto perdition? And the room: didst set to rights the furnishings I haddelivered here, and sweep the century-old accumulation of filth andcobwebs from the floor and rafters? Why, the very air reeked of the deadRomans who builded London twelve hundred years ago. Methinks, too, fromthe stink, they must have been Roman swineherd who habited this sty withtheir herds, an' I venture that thou, old sow, hast never touched broomto the place for fear of disturbing the ancient relics of thy kin. "

"Cease thy babbling, Lord Satan, " cried the woman. "I would rather hearthy money talk than thou, for though it come accursed and tainted fromthy rogue hand, yet it speaks with the same sweet and commanding voiceas it were fresh from the coffers of the holy church. 

"The bundle is ready, " she continued, closing the door after De Vac, whohad now entered, "and here be the key; but first let us have a payment. I know not what thy foul work may be, but foul it is I know from thesecrecy which you have demanded, an' I dare say there will be some whowould pay well to learn the whereabouts of the old woman and the child, thy sister and her son you tell me they be, who you are so anxious tohide away in old Til's garret. So it be well for you, my Lord, to payold Til well and add a few guilders for the peace of her tongue if youwould that your prisoner find peace in old Til's house. "

"Fetch me the bundle, hag, " replied De Vac, "and you shall have goldagainst a final settlement; more even than we bargained for if all goeswell and thou holdest thy vile tongue. "

But the old woman's threats had already caused De Vac a feeling ofuneasiness, which would have been reflected to an exaggerated degree inthe old woman had she known the determination her words had caused inthe mind of the old master of fence. 

His venture was far too serious, and the results of exposure toofraught with danger, to permit of his taking any chances with a disloyalfellow-conspirator. True, he had not even hinted at the enormity of theplot in which he was involving the old woman, but, as she had said, hisstern commands for secrecy had told enough to arouse her suspicions, andwith them her curiosity and cupidity. So it was that old Til might wellhave quailed in her tattered sandals had she but even vaguely guessedthe thoughts which passed in De Vac's mind; but the extra gold pieceshe dropped into her withered palm as she delivered the bundle to him, together with the promise of more, quite effectually won her loyalty andher silence for the time being. 

Slipping the key into the pocket of his tunic and covering the bundlewith his long surcoat, De Vac stepped out into the darkness of the alleyand hastened toward the dock. 

Beneath the planks he found a skiff which he had moored there earlierin the evening, and underneath one of the thwarts he hid the bundle. Then, casting off, he rowed slowly up the Thames until, below the palacewalls, he moored near to the little postern gate which let into thelower end of the garden. 

Hiding the skiff as best he could in some tangled bushes which grew tothe water's edge, set there by order of the King to add to the beauty ofthe aspect from the river side, De Vac crept warily to the postern and, unchallenged, entered and sought his apartments in the palace. 

The next day, he returned the original key to Brus, telling the old manthat he had not used it after all, since mature reflection had convincedhim of the folly of his contemplated adventure, especially in one whoseyouth was past, and in whose joints the night damp of the Thames mightfind lodgement for rheumatism. 

"Ha, Sir Jules, " laughed the old gardener, "Virtue and Vice be twinsisters who come running to do the bidding of the same father, Desire. Were there no desire there would be no virtue, and because one mandesires what another does not, who shall say whether the child of hisdesire be vice or virtue? Or on the other hand if my friend desires hisown wife and if that be virtue, then if I also desire his wife, is notthat likewise virtue, since we desire the same thing? But if to obtainour desire it be necessary to expose our joints to the Thames' fog, thenit were virtue to remain at home. "

"Right you sound, old mole, " said De Vac, smiling, "would that I mightlearn to reason by your wondrous logic; methinks it might stand me ingood stead before I be much older. "

"The best sword arm in all Christendom needs no other logic than thesword, I should think, " said Brus, returning to his work. 

That afternoon, De Vac stood in a window of the armory looking outupon the beautiful garden which spread before him to the river wall twohundred yards away. In the foreground were box-bordered walks, smooth, sleek lawns, and formal beds of gorgeous flowering plants, while hereand there marble statues of wood nymph and satyr gleamed, sparkling inthe brilliant sunlight, or, half shaded by an overhanging bush, tookon a semblance of life from the riotous play of light and shadow as theleaves above them moved to and fro in the faint breeze. Farther in thedistance, the river wall was hidden by more closely massed bushes, andthe formal, geometric precision of the nearer view was relieved by abackground of vine-colored bowers, and a profusion of small trees andflowering shrubs arranged in studied disorder. 

Through this seeming jungle ran tortuous paths, and the carved stonebenches of the open garden gave place to rustic seats, and swingssuspended from the branches of fruit trees. 

Toward this enchanting spot slowly were walking the Lady Maud and herlittle charge, Prince Richard; all ignorant of the malicious watcher inthe window behind them. 

A great peacock strutted proudly across the walk before them, and, asRichard ran, childlike, after it, Lady Maud hastened on to the littlepostern gate which she quickly unlocked, admitting her lover, who hadbeen waiting without. Relocking the gate the two strolled arm in arm tothe little bower which was their trysting place. 

As the lovers talked, all self-engrossed, the little Prince playedhappily about among the trees and flowers, and none saw the stern, determined face which peered through the foliage at a little distancefrom the playing boy. 

Richard was devoting his royal energies to chasing an elusive butterflywhich fate led nearer and nearer to the cold, hard watcher in thebushes. Closer and closer came the little Prince, and in anothermoment, he had burst through the flowering shrubs, and stood facing theimplacable master of fence. 

"Your Highness, " said De Vac, bowing to the little fellow, "let oldDeVac help you catch the pretty insect. "

Richard, having often seen De Vac, did not fear him, and so togetherthey started in pursuit of the butterfly which by now had passed outof sight. De Vac turned their steps toward the little postern gate, but when he would have passed through with the tiny Prince, the latterrebelled. 

"Come, My Lord Prince, " urged De Vac, "methinks the butterfly did butalight without the wall, we can have it and return within the garden inan instant. "

"Go thyself and fetch it, " replied the Prince; "the King, my father, hasforbid me stepping without the palace grounds. "

"Come, " commanded De Vac, more sternly, "no harm can come to you. "

But the child hung back and would not go with him so that De Vac wasforced to grasp him roughly by the arm. There was a cry of rage andalarm from the royal child. 

"Unhand me, sirrah, " screamed the boy. "How dare you lay hands on aprince of England?"

De Vac clapped his hand over the child's mouth to still his cries, but it was too late. The Lady Maud and her lover had heard and, in aninstant, they were rushing toward the postern gate, the officer drawinghis sword as he ran. 

When they reached the wall, De Vac and the Prince were upon the outside, and the Frenchman had closed and was endeavoring to lock the gate. But, handicapped by the struggling boy, he had not time to turn the keybefore the officer threw himself against the panels and burst out beforethe master of fence, closely followed by the Lady Maud. 

De Vac dropped the key and, still grasping the now thoroughlyaffrightened Prince with his left hand, drew his sword and confrontedthe officer. 

There were no words, there was no need of words; De Vac's intentionswere too plain to necessitate any parley, so the two fell upon eachother with grim fury; the brave officer facing the best swordsman thatFrance had ever produced in a futile attempt to rescue his young prince. 

In a moment, De Vac had disarmed him, but, contrary to the laws ofchivalry, he did not lower his point until it had first plunged throughthe heart of his brave antagonist. Then, with a bound, he leaped betweenLady Maud and the gate, so that she could not retreat into the gardenand give the alarm. 

Still grasping the trembling child in his iron grip, he stood facing thelady in waiting, his back against the door. 

"Mon Dieu, Sir Jules, " she cried, "hast thou gone mad?"

"No, My Lady, " he answered, "but I had not thought to do the work whichnow lies before me. Why didst thou not keep a still tongue in thy headand let his patron saint look after the welfare of this princeling? Yourrashness has brought you to a pretty pass, for it must be either you orI, My Lady, and it cannot be I. Say thy prayers and compose thyself fordeath. "

Henry III, King of England, sat in his council chamber surrounded bythe great lords and nobles who composed his suit. He awaited Simon deMontfort, Earl of Leicester, whom he had summoned that he might heapstill further indignities upon him with the intention of degrading andhumiliating him that he might leave England forever. The King fearedthis mighty kinsman who so boldly advised him against the weak follieswhich were bringing his kingdom to a condition of revolution. 

What the outcome of this audience would have been none may say, forLeicester had but just entered and saluted his sovereign when there camean interruption which drowned the petty wrangles of king and courtier ina common affliction that touched the hearts of all. 

There was a commotion at one side of the room, the arras parted, andEleanor, Queen of England, staggered toward the throne, tears streamingdown her pale cheeks. 

"Oh, My Lord! My Lord!" she cried, "Richard, our son, has beenassassinated and thrown into the Thames. "

In an instant, all was confusion and turmoil, and it was with thegreatest difficulty that the King finally obtained a coherent statementfrom his queen. 

It seemed that when the Lady Maud had not returned to the palace withPrince Richard at the proper time, the Queen had been notified and animmediate search had been instituted--a search which did not end forover twenty years; but the first fruits of it turned the hearts of thecourt to stone, for there beside the open postern gate lay the deadbodies of Lady Maud and a certain officer of the Guards, but nowherewas there a sign or trace of Prince Richard, second son of Henry III ofEngland, and at that time the youngest prince of the realm. 

It was two days before the absence of De Vac was noted, and then it wasthat one of the lords in waiting to the King reminded his majesty ofthe episode of the fencing bout, and a motive for the abduction of theKing's little son became apparent. 

An edict was issued requiring the examination of every child in England, for on the left breast of the little Prince was a birthmark whichclosely resembled a lily and, when after a year no child was foundbearing such a mark and no trace of De Vac uncovered, the search wascarried into France, nor was it ever wholly relinquished at any time formore than twenty years. 

The first theory, of assassination, was quickly abandoned when it wassubjected to the light of reason, for it was evident that an assassincould have dispatched the little Prince at the same time that he killedthe Lady Maud and her lover, had such been his desire. 

The most eager factor in the search for Prince Richard was Simon deMontfort, Earl of Leicester, whose affection for his royal nephew hadalways been so marked as to have been commented upon by the members ofthe King's household. 

Thus for a time the rupture between De Montfort and his king washealed, and although the great nobleman was divested of his authority inGascony, he suffered little further oppression at the hands of his royalmaster. 

CHAPTER IV

As De Vac drew his sword from the heart of the Lady Maud, he winced, for, merciless though he was, he had shrunk from this cruel task. Toofar he had gone, however, to back down now, and, had he left the LadyMaud alive, the whole of the palace guard and all the city of Londonwould have been on his heels in ten minutes; there would have been noescape. 

The little Prince was now so terrified that he could but tremble andwhimper in his fright. So fearful was he of the terrible De Vac that athreat of death easily stilled his tongue, and so the grim, old man ledhim to the boat hidden deep in the dense bushes. 

De Vac did not dare remain in this retreat until dark, as he had firstintended. Instead, he drew a dingy, ragged dress from the bundle beneaththe thwart and in this disguised himself as an old woman, drawing acotton wimple low over his head and forehead to hide his short hair. Concealing the child beneath the other articles of clothing, he pushedoff from the bank, and, rowing close to the shore, hastened down theThames toward the old dock where, the previous night, he had concealedhis skiff. He reached his destination unnoticed, and, running in beneaththe dock, worked the boat far into the dark recess of the cave-likeretreat. 

Here he determined to hide until darkness had fallen, for he knew thatthe search would be on for the little lost Prince at any moment, andthat none might traverse the streets of London without being subject tothe closest scrutiny. 

Taking advantage of the forced wait, De Vac undressed the Prince andclothed him in other garments, which had been wrapped in the bundlehidden beneath the thwart; a little red cotton tunic with hose to match, a black doublet and a tiny leather jerkin and leather cap. 

The discarded clothing of the Prince he wrapped about a huge stone tornfrom the disintegrating masonry of the river wall, and consigned thebundle to the voiceless river. 

The Prince had by now regained some of his former assurance and, finding that De Vac seemed not to intend harming him, the little fellowcommenced questioning his grim companion, his childish wonder at thisstrange adventure getting the better of his former apprehension. 

"What do we here, Sir Jules?" he asked. "Take me back to the King's, myfather's palace. I like not this dark hole nor the strange garments youhave placed upon me. "

"Silence, boy!" commanded the old man. "Sir Jules be dead, nor are youa king's son. Remember these two things well, nor ever again let me hearyou speak the name Sir Jules, or call yourself a prince. "

The boy went silent, again cowed by the fierce tone of his captor. Presently he began to whimper, for he was tired and hungry andfrightened--just a poor little baby, helpless and hopeless in the handsof this cruel enemy--all his royalty as nothing, all gone with thesilken finery which lay in the thick mud at the bottom of the Thames, and presently he dropped into a fitful sleep in the bottom of the skiff. 

When darkness had settled, De Vac pushed the skiff outward to theside of the dock and, gathering the sleeping child in his arms, stoodlistening, preparatory to mounting to the alley which led to old Til'splace. 

As he stood thus, a faint sound of clanking armor came to his attentiveears; louder and louder it grew until there could be no doubt but that anumber of men were approaching. 

De Vac resumed his place in the skiff, and again drew it far beneaththe dock. Scarcely had he done so ere a party of armored knights andmen-at-arms clanked out upon the planks above him from the mouth of thedark alley. Here they stopped as though for consultation and plainlycould the listener below hear every word of their conversation. 

"De Montfort, " said one, "what thinkest thou of it? Can it be that theQueen is right and that Richard lies dead beneath these black waters?"

"No, De Clare, " replied a deep voice, which De Vac recognized as that ofthe Earl of Leicester. "The hand that could steal the Prince from out ofthe very gardens of his sire without the knowledge of Lady Maud or hercompanion, which must evidently have been the case, could more easilyand safely have dispatched him within the gardens had that been theobject of this strange attack. I think, My Lord, that presently we shallhear from some bold adventurer who holds the little Prince forransom. God give that such may be the case, for of all the winsome andaffectionate little fellows I have ever seen, not even excepting mineown dear son, the little Richard was the most to be beloved. Would thatI might get my hands upon the foul devil who has done this horrid deed. "

Beneath the planks, not four feet from where Leicester stood, lay theobject of his search. The clanking armor, the heavy spurred feet, andthe voices above him had awakened the little Prince and, with a startledcry, he sat upright in the bottom of the skiff. Instantly De Vac's ironband clapped over the tiny mouth, but not before a single faint wail hadreached the ears of the men above. 

"Hark! What was that, My Lord?" cried one of the men-at-arms. 

In tense silence they listened for a repetition of the sound and then DeMontfort cried out:

"What ho, below there! Who is it beneath the dock? Answer, in the nameof the King!"

Richard, recognizing the voice of his favorite uncle, struggled to freehimself, but De Vac's ruthless hand crushed out the weak efforts of thebabe, and all was quiet as the tomb, while those above stood listeningfor a repetition of the sound. 

"Dock rats, " said De Clare, and then as though the devil guided them toprotect his own, two huge rats scurried upward from between the looseboards, and ran squealing up the dark alley. 

"Right you are, " said De Montfort, "but I could have sworn 'twas achild's feeble wail had I not seen the two filthy rodents with mine owneyes. Come, let us to the next vile alley. We have met with no successhere, though that old hag who called herself Til seemed overanxious tobargain for the future information she seemed hopeful of being able togive us. "

As they moved off, their voices grew fainter in the ears of thelisteners beneath the dock and soon were lost in the distance. 

"A close shave, " thought De Vac, as he again took up the child andprepared to gain the dock. No further noises occurring to frighten him, he soon reached the door to Til's house and, inserting the key, creptnoiselessly to the garret room which he had rented from his ill-favoredhostess. 

There were no stairs from the upper floor to the garret above, thisascent being made by means of a wooden ladder which De Vac pulled upafter him, closing and securing the aperture, through which he climbedwith his burden, by means of a heavy trapdoor equipped with thick bars. 

The apartment which they now entered extended across the entire east endof the building, and had windows upon three sides. These were heavilycurtained. The apartment was lighted by a small cresset hanging from arafter near the center of the room. 

The walls were unplastered and the rafters unceiled; the whole bearing amost barnlike and unhospitable appearance. 

In one corner was a huge bed, and across the room a smaller cot; acupboard, a table, and two benches completed the furnishings. Thesearticles De Vac had purchased for the room against the time when heshould occupy it with his little prisoner. 

On the table were a loaf of black bread, an earthenware jar containinghoney, a pitcher of milk and two drinking horns. To these, De Vacimmediately gave his attention, commanding the child to partake of whathe wished. 

Hunger for the moment overcame the little Prince's fears, and he setto with avidity upon the strange, rough fare, made doubly coarse bythe rude utensils and the bare surroundings, so unlike the royalmagnificence of his palace apartments. 

While the child ate, De Vac hastened to the lower floor of the buildingin search of Til, whom he now thoroughly mistrusted and feared. Thewords of De Montfort, which he had overheard at the dock, convinced himthat here was one more obstacle to the fulfillment of his revenge whichmust be removed as had the Lady Maud; but in this instance there wasneither youth nor beauty to plead the cause of the intended victim, orto cause the grim executioner a pang of remorse. 

When he found the old hag, she was already dressed to go upon thestreet, in fact he intercepted her at the very door of the building. Still clad as he was in the mantle and wimple of an old woman, Tildid not, at first, recognize him, and when he spoke, she burst intoa nervous, cackling laugh, as one caught in the perpetration of somequestionable act, nor did her manner escape the shrewd notice of thewily master of fence. 

"Whither, old hag?" he asked. 

"To visit Mag Tunk at the alley's end, by the river, My Lord, " shereplied, with more respect than she had been wont to accord him. 

"Then, I will accompany you part way, my friend, and, perchance, you cangive me a hand with some packages I left behind me in the skiff I havemoored there. "

And so the two walked together through the dark alley to the end of therickety, dismantled dock; the one thinking of the vast reward the Kingwould lavish upon her for the information she felt sure she alone couldgive; the other feeling beneath his mantle for the hilt of a long daggerwhich nestled there. 

As they reached the water's edge, De Vac was walking with his rightshoulder behind his companion's left, in his hand was gripped the keenblade and, as the woman halted on the dock, the point that hovered justbelow her left shoulder-blade plunged, soundless, into her heart at thesame instant that De Vac's left hand swung up and grasped her throat ina grip of steel. 

There was no sound, barely a struggle of the convulsively stiffening oldmuscles, and then, with a push from De Vac, the body lunged forward intothe Thames, where a dull splash marked the end of the last hope thatPrince Richard might be rescued from the clutches of his Nemesis. 

CHAPTER V

For three years following the disappearance of Prince Richard, a bentold woman lived in the heart of London within a stone's throw of theKing's palace. In a small back room she lived, high up in the attic ofan old building, and with her was a little boy who never went abroadalone, nor by day. And upon his left breast was a strange mark whichresembled a lily. When the bent old woman was safely in her attic room, with bolted door behind her, she was wont to straighten up, and discardher dingy mantle for more comfortable and becoming doublet and hose. 

For years, she worked assiduously with the little boy's education. Therewere three subjects in her curriculum; French, swordsmanship and hatredof all things English, especially the reigning house of England. 

The old woman had had made a tiny foil and had commenced teaching thelittle boy the art of fence when he was but three years old. 

"You will be the greatest swordsman in the world when you are twenty, my son, " she was wont to say, "and then you shall go out and kill manyEnglishmen. Your name shall be hated and cursed the length and breadthof England, and when you finally stand with the halter about your neck, aha, then will I speak. Then shall they know. "

The little boy did not understand it all, he only knew that he wascomfortable, and had warm clothing, and all he required to eat, and thathe would be a great man when he learned to fight with a real sword, and had grown large enough to wield one. He also knew that he hatedEnglishmen, but why, he did not know. 

Way back in the uttermost recesses of his little, childish head, heseemed to remember a time when his life and surroundings had been verydifferent; when, instead of this old woman, there had been many peoplearound him, and a sweet faced woman had held him in her arms and kissedhim, before he was taken off to bed at night; but he could not be sure, maybe it was only a dream he remembered, for he dreamed many strange andwonderful dreams. 

When the little boy was about six years of age, a strange man came totheir attic home to visit the little old woman. It was in the dusk ofthe evening but the old woman did not light the cresset, and further, she whispered to the little boy to remain in the shadows of a far cornerof the bare chamber. 

The stranger was old and bent and had a great beard which hid almosthis entire face except for two piercing eyes, a great nose and a bitof wrinkled forehead. When he spoke, he accompanied his words with manyshrugs of his narrow shoulders and with waving of his arms and otherstrange and amusing gesticulations. The child was fascinated. Here wasthe first amusement of his little starved life. He listened intently tothe conversation, which was in French. 

"I have just the thing for madame, " the stranger was saying. "It be anoble and stately hall far from the beaten way. It was built in the olddays by Harold the Saxon, but in later times, death and poverty and thedisfavor of the King have wrested it from his descendants. A few yearssince, Henry granted it to that spend-thrift favorite of his, Henri deMacy, who pledged it to me for a sum he hath been unable to repay. Todayit be my property, and as it be far from Paris, you may have it for themere song I have named. It be a wondrous bargain, madame. "

"And when I come upon it, I shall find that I have bought a crumblingpile of ruined masonry, unfit to house a family of foxes, " replied theold woman peevishly. 

"One tower hath fallen, and the roof for half the length of one winghath sagged and tumbled in, " explained the old Frenchman. "But the threelower stories be intact and quite habitable. It be much grander evennow than the castles of many of England's noble barons, and the price, madame--ah, the price be so ridiculously low. "

Still the old woman hesitated. 

"Come, " said the Frenchman, "I have it. Deposit the money with Isaac theJew--thou knowest him?--and he shall hold it together with the deedfor forty days, which will give thee ample time to travel to Derby andinspect thy purchase. If thou be not entirely satisfied, Isaac the Jewshall return thy money to thee and the deed to me, but if at the endof forty days thou hast not made demand for thy money, then shall Isaacsend the deed to thee and the money to me. Be not this an easy and fairway out of the difficulty?"

The little old woman thought for a moment and at last conceded thatit seemed quite a fair way to arrange the matter. And thus it wasaccomplished. 

Several days later, the little old woman called the child to her. 

"We start tonight upon a long journey to our new home. Thy face shallbe wrapped in many rags, for thou hast a most grievous toothache. Dostunderstand?"

"But I have no toothache. My teeth do not pain me at all. I--"expostulated the child. 

"Tut, tut, " interrupted the little old woman. "Thou hast a toothache, and so thy face must be wrapped in many rags. And listen, should any askthee upon the way why thy face be so wrapped, thou art to say that thouhast a toothache. And thou do not do as I say, the King's men will takeus and we shall be hanged, for the King hateth us. If thou hatest theEnglish King and lovest thy life do as I command. "

"I hate the King, " replied the little boy. "For this reason I shall doas thou sayest. "

So it was that they set out that night upon their long journey northtoward the hills of Derby. For many days they travelled, riding upontwo small donkeys. Strange sights filled the days for the little boywho remembered nothing outside the bare attic of his London home and thedirty London alleys that he had traversed only by night. 

They wound across beautiful parklike meadows and through dark, forbidding forests, and now and again they passed tiny hamlets ofthatched huts. Occasionally they saw armored knights upon the highway, alone or in small parties, but the child's companion always managed tohasten into cover at the road side until the grim riders had passed. 

Once, as they lay in hiding in a dense wood beside a little open gladeacross which the road wound, the boy saw two knights enter the gladefrom either side. For a moment, they drew rein and eyed each other insilence, and then one, a great black mailed knight upon a black charger, cried out something to the other which the boy could not catch. Theother knight made no response other than to rest his lance upon histhigh and with lowered point, ride toward his ebon adversary. For adozen paces their great steeds trotted slowly toward one another, butpresently the knights urged them into full gallop, and when the two ironmen on their iron trapped chargers came together in the center of theglade, it was with all the terrific impact of full charge. 

The lance of the black knight smote full upon the linden shield of hisfoeman, the staggering weight of the mighty black charger hurtled uponthe gray, who went down with his rider into the dust of the highway. Themomentum of the black carried him fifty paces beyond the fallen horsemanbefore his rider could rein him in, then the black knight turned to viewthe havoc he had wrought. The gray horse was just staggering dizzily tohis feet, but his mailed rider lay quiet and still where he had fallen. 

With raised visor, the black knight rode back to the side of hisvanquished foe. There was a cruel smile upon his lips as he leanedtoward the prostrate form. He spoke tauntingly, but there was noresponse, then he prodded the fallen man with the point of his spear. Even this elicited no movement. With a shrug of his iron clad shoulders, the black knight wheeled and rode on down the road until he haddisappeared from sight within the gloomy shadows of the encirclingforest. 

The little boy was spell-bound. Naught like this had he ever seen ordreamed. 

"Some day thou shalt go and do likewise, my son, " said the little oldwoman. 

"Shall I be clothed in armor and ride upon a great black steed?" heasked. 

"Yes, and thou shalt ride the highways of England with thy stout lanceand mighty sword, and behind thee thou shalt leave a trail of blood anddeath, for every man shalt be thy enemy. But come, we must be on ourway. "

They rode on, leaving the dead knight where he had fallen, but always inhis memory the child carried the thing that he had seen, longing for theday when he should be great and strong like the formidable black knight. 

On another day, as they were biding in a deserted hovel to escape thenotice of a caravan of merchants journeying up-country with their wares, they saw a band of ruffians rush out from the concealing shelter of somebushes at the far side of the highway and fall upon the surprised anddefenseless tradesmen. 

Ragged, bearded, uncouth villains they were, armed mostly with bludgeonsand daggers, with here and there a cross-bow. Without mercy theyattacked the old and the young, beating them down in cold blood evenwhen they offered no resistance. Those of the caravan who could, escaped, the balance the highwaymen left dead or dying in the road, asthey hurried away with their loot. 

At first the child was horror-struck, but when he turned to the littleold woman for sympathy he found a grim smile upon her thin lips. Shenoted his expression of dismay. 

"It is naught, my son. But English curs setting upon English swine. Someday thou shalt set upon both--they be only fit for killing. "

The boy made no reply, but he thought a great deal about that whichhe had seen. Knights were cruel to knights--the poor were cruel to therich--and every day of the journey had forced upon his childish mindthat everyone must be very cruel and hard upon the poor. He had seenthem in all their sorrow and misery and poverty--stretching a long, scattering line all the way from London town. Their bent backs, theirpoor thin bodies and their hopeless, sorrowful faces attesting the wearywretchedness of their existence. 

"Be no one happy in all the world?" he once broke out to the old woman. 

"Only he who wields the mightiest sword, " responded the old woman. "Youhave seen, my son, that all Englishmen are beasts. They set upon andkill one another for little provocation or for no provocation at all. When thou shalt be older, thou shalt go forth and kill them all forunless thou kill them, they will kill thee. "

At length, after tiresome days upon the road, they came to a littlehamlet in the hills. Here the donkeys were disposed of and a great horsepurchased, upon which the two rode far up into a rough and uninvitingcountry away from the beaten track, until late one evening theyapproached a ruined castle. 

The frowning walls towered high against the moonlit sky beyond, andwhere a portion of the roof had fallen in, the cold moon, shiningthrough the narrow unglazed windows, gave to the mighty pile thelikeness of a huge, many-eyed ogre crouching upon the flank of adeserted world, for nowhere was there other sign of habitation. 

Before this somber pile, the two dismounted. The little boy was filledwith awe and his childish imagination ran riot as they approached thecrumbling barbican on foot, leading the horse after them. From the darkshadows of the ballium, they passed into the moonlit inner court. At thefar end the old woman found the ancient stables, and here, with decayingplanks, she penned the horse for the night, pouring a measure of oatsupon the floor for him from a bag which had bung across his rump. 

Then she led the way into the dense shadows of the castle, lightingtheir advance with a flickering pine knot. The old planking of thefloors, long unused, groaned and rattled beneath their approach. Therewas a sudden scamper of clawed feet before them, and a red fox dashed byin a frenzy of alarm toward the freedom of the outer night. 

Presently they came to the great hall. The old woman pushed open thegreat doors upon their creaking hinges and lit up dimly the mighty, cavernous interior with the puny rays of their feeble torch. As theystepped cautiously within, an impalpable dust arose in little spurtsfrom the long-rotted rushes that crumbled beneath their feet. A hugebat circled wildly with loud fluttering wings in evident remonstrance atthis rude intrusion. Strange creatures of the night scurried or wriggledacross wall and floor. 

But the child was unafraid. Fear had not been a part of the old woman'scurriculum. The boy did not know the meaning of the word, nor washe ever in his after-life to experience the sensation. With childisheagerness, he followed his companion as she inspected the interior ofthe chamber. It was still an imposing room. The boy clapped his handsin delight at the beauties of the carved and panelled walls and the oakbeamed ceiling, stained almost black from the smoke of torches and oilcressets that had lighted it in bygone days, aided, no doubt, by thewood fires which had burned in its two immense fireplaces to cheer themerry throng of noble revellers that had so often sat about the greattable into the morning hours. 

Here they took up their abode. But the bent, old woman was no longer anold woman--she had become a straight, wiry, active old man. 

The little boy's education went on--French, swordsmanship and hatredof the English--the same thing year after year with the addition ofhorsemanship after he was ten years old. At this time the old mancommenced teaching him to speak English, but with a studied and verymarked French accent. During all his life now, he could not remember ofhaving spoken to any living being other than his guardian, whom he hadbeen taught to address as father. Nor did the boy have any name--he wasjust "my son. "

His life in the Derby hills was so filled with the hard, exactingduties of his education that he had little time to think of the strangeloneliness of his existence; nor is it probable that he missed thatcompanionship of others of his own age of which, never having hadexperience in it, he could scarce be expected to regret or yearn for. 

At fifteen, the youth was a magnificent swordsman and horseman, and withan utter contempt for pain or danger--a contempt which was the result ofthe heroic methods adopted by the little old man in the training of him. Often the two practiced with razor-sharp swords, and without armor orother protection of any description. 

"Thus only, " the old man was wont to say, "mayst thou become theabsolute master of thy blade. Of such a nicety must be thy handling ofthe weapon that thou mayst touch an antagonist at will and so lightly, shouldst thou desire, that thy point, wholly under the control of amaster hand, mayst be stopped before it inflicts so much as a scratch. "

But in practice, there were many accidents, and then one or both of themwould nurse a punctured skin for a few days. So, while blood was oftenlet on both sides, the training produced a fearless swordsman who wasso truly the master of his point that he could stop a thrust within afraction of an inch of the spot he sought. 

At fifteen, he was a very strong and straight and handsome lad. Bronzedand hardy from his outdoor life; of few words, for there was none thathe might talk with save the taciturn old man; hating the English, forthat he was taught as thoroughly as swordsmanship; speaking Frenchfluently and English poorly--and waiting impatiently for the day whenthe old man should send him out into the world with clanking armor andlance and shield to do battle with the knights of England. 

It was about this time that there occurred the first important break inthe monotony of his existence. Far down the rocky trail that led fromthe valley below through the Derby hills to the ruined castle, threearmored knights urged their tired horses late one afternoon of a chillautumn day. Off the main road and far from any habitation, they hadespied the castle's towers through a rift in the hills, and now theyspurred toward it in search of food and shelter. 

As the road led them winding higher into the hills, they suddenlyemerged upon the downs below the castle where a sight met their eyeswhich caused them to draw rein and watch in admiration. There, beforethem upon the downs, a boy battled with a lunging, rearing horse--aperfect demon of a black horse. Striking and biting in a frenzy ofrage, it sought ever to escape or injure the lithe figure which clungleech-like to its shoulder. 

The boy was on the ground. His left hand grasped the heavy mane;his right arm lay across the beast's withers and his right hand drewsteadily in upon a halter rope with which he had taken a half hitchabout the horse's muzzle. Now the black reared and wheeled, strikingand biting, full upon the youth, but the active figure swung withhim--always just behind the giant shoulder--and ever and ever he drewthe great arched neck farther and farther to the right. 

As the animal plunged hither and thither in great leaps, he dragged theboy with him, but all his mighty efforts were unavailing to loosen thegrip upon mane and withers. Suddenly, he reared straight into the aircarrying the youth with him, then with a vicious lunge he threw himselfbackward upon the ground. 

"It's death!" exclaimed one of the knights, "he will kill the youth yet, Beauchamp. "

"No!" cried he addressed. "Look! He is up again and the boy still clingsas tightly to him as his own black hide. "

"'Tis true, " exclaimed another, "but he hath lost what he had gainedupon the halter--he must needs fight it all out again from thebeginning. "

And so the battle went on again as before, the boy again drawing theiron neck slowly to the right--the beast fighting and squealing asthough possessed of a thousand devils. A dozen times, as the head bentfarther and farther toward him, the boy loosed his hold upon the maneand reached quickly down to grasp the near fore pastern. A dozen timesthe horse shook off the new hold, but at length the boy was successful, and the knee was bent and the hoof drawn up to the elbow. 

Now the black fought at a disadvantage, for he was on but three feetand his neck was drawn about in an awkward and unnatural position. Hisefforts became weaker and weaker. The boy talked incessantly to him ina quiet voice, and there was a shadow of a smile upon his lips. Nowhe bore heavily upon the black withers, pulling the horse toward him. Slowly the beast sank upon his bent knee--pulling backward until his offfore leg was stretched straight before him. Then, with a final surge, the youth pulled him over upon his side, and, as he fell, slipped pronebeside him. One sinewy hand shot to the rope just beneath the blackchin--the other grasped a slim, pointed ear. 

For a few minutes the horse fought and kicked to gain his liberty, butwith his head held to the earth, he was as powerless in the hands of theboy as a baby would have been. Then he sank panting and exhausted intomute surrender. 

"Well done!" cried one of the knights. "Simon de Montfort himself nevermastered a horse in better order, my boy. Who be thou?"

In an instant, the lad was upon his feet his eyes searching for thespeaker. The horse, released, sprang up also, and the two stood--thehandsome boy and the beautiful black--gazing with startled eyes, liketwo wild things, at the strange intruder who confronted them. 

"Come, Sir Mortimer!" cried the boy, and turning he led the prancing butsubdued animal toward the castle and through the ruined barbican intothe court beyond. 

"What ho, there, lad!" shouted Paul of Merely. "We wouldst not harmthee--come, we but ask the way to the castle of De Stutevill. "

The three knights listened but there was no answer. 

"Come, Sir Knights, " spoke Paul of Merely, "we will ride within andlearn what manner of churls inhabit this ancient rookery. "

As they entered the great courtyard, magnificent even in its ruinedgrandeur, they were met by a little, grim old man who asked them in nogentle tones what they would of them there. 

"We have lost our way in these devilish Derby hills of thine, old man, "replied Paul of Merely. "We seek the castle of Sir John de Stutevill. "

"Ride down straight to the river road, keeping the first trail to theright, and when thou hast come there, turn again to thy right and ridenorth beside the river--thou canst not miss the way--it be plain as thenose before thy face, " and with that the old man turned to enter thecastle. 

"Hold, old fellow!" cried the spokesman. "It be nigh onto sunset now, and we care not to sleep out again this night as we did the last. Wewill tarry with you then till morn that we may take up our journeyrefreshed, upon rested steeds. "

The old man grumbled, and it was with poor grace that he took them in tofeed and house them over night. But there was nothing else for it, sincethey would have taken his hospitality by force had he refused to give itvoluntarily. 

From their guests, the two learned something of the conditions outsidetheir Derby hills. The old man showed less interest than he felt, but tothe boy, notwithstanding that the names he heard meant nothing to him, it was like unto a fairy tale to hear of the wondrous doings of earl andbaron, bishop and king. 

"If the King does not mend his ways, " said one of the knights, "we willdrive his whole accursed pack of foreign blood-suckers into the sea. "

"De Montfort has told him as much a dozen times, and now that all ofus, both Norman and Saxon barons, have already met together and formeda pact for our mutual protection, the King must surely realize that thetime for temporizing be past, and that unless he would have a civil warupon his hands, he must keep the promises he so glibly makes, instead ofbreaking them the moment De Montfort's back be turned. "

"He fears his brother-in-law, " interrupted another of the knights, "evenmore than the devil fears holy water. I was in attendance on his majestysome weeks since when he was going down the Thames upon the royal barge. We were overtaken by as severe a thunder storm as I have ever seen, ofwhich the King was in such abject fear that he commanded that we land atthe Bishop of Durham's palace opposite which we then were. De Montfort, who was residing there, came to meet Henry, with all due respect, observing, 'What do you fear, now, Sire, the tempest has passed?' Andwhat thinkest thou old 'waxen heart' replied? Why, still trembling, hesaid, 'I do indeed fear thunder and lightning much, but, by the hand ofGod, I tremble before you more than for all the thunder in Heaven!'"

"I surmise, " interjected the grim, old man, "that De Montfort has insome manner gained an ascendancy over the King. Think you he looks sohigh as the throne itself?"

"Not so, " cried the oldest of the knights. "Simon de Montfort works forEngland's weal alone--and methinks, nay knowest, that he would be firstto spring to arms to save the throne for Henry. He but fights the King'srank and covetous advisers, and though he must needs seem to defy theKing himself, it be but to save his tottering power from utter collapse. But, gad, how the King hates him. For a time it seemed that there mightbe a permanent reconciliation when, for years after the disappearanceof the little Prince Richard, De Montfort devoted much of his time andprivate fortune to prosecuting a search through all the world for thelittle fellow, of whom he was inordinately fond. This self-sacrificinginterest on his part won over the King and Queen for many years, but oflate his unremitting hostility to their continued extravagant waste ofthe national resources has again hardened them toward him. "

The old man, growing uneasy at the turn the conversation threatened, sent the youth from the room on some pretext, and himself left toprepare supper. 

As they were sitting at the evening meal, one of the nobles eyed the boyintently, for he was indeed good to look upon; his bright handsome face, clear, intelligent gray eyes, and square strong jaw framed in a massof brown waving hair banged at the forehead and falling about his ears, where it was again cut square at the sides and back, after the fashionof the times. 

His upper body was clothed in a rough under tunic of wool, stained red, over which he wore a short leathern jerkin, while his doublet was alsoof leather, a soft and finely tanned piece of undressed doeskin. Hislong hose, fitting his shapely legs as closely as another layer of skin, were of the same red wool as his tunic, while his strong leather sandalswere cross-gartered halfway to his knees with narrow bands of leather. 

A leathern girdle about his waist supported a sword and a dagger and around skull cap of the same material, to which was fastened a falcon'swing, completed his picturesque and becoming costume. 

"Your son?" he asked, turning to the old man. 

"Yes, " was the growling response. 

"He favors you but little, old fellow, except in his cursed Frenchaccent. 

"'S blood, Beauchamp, " he continued, turning to one of his companions, "an' were he set down in court, I wager our gracious Queen would he hardput to it to tell him from the young Prince Edward. Dids't ever see sostrange a likeness?"

"Now that you speak of it, My Lord, I see it plainly. It is indeed amarvel, " answered Beauchamp. 

Had they glanced at the old man during this colloquy, they would haveseen a blanched face, drawn with inward fear and rage. 

Presently the oldest member of the party of three knights spoke in agrave quiet tone. 

"And how old might you be, my son?" he asked the boy. 

"I do not know. "

"And your name?"

"I do not know what you mean. I have no name. My father calls me son andno other ever before addressed me. "

At this juncture, the old man arose and left the room, saving he wouldfetch more food from the kitchen, but he turned immediately he hadpassed the doorway and listened from without. 

"The lad appears about fifteen, " said Paul of Merely, lowering hisvoice, "and so would be the little lost Prince Richard, if he lives. This one does not know his name, or his age, yet he looks enough likePrince Edward to be his twin. "

"Come, my son, " he continued aloud, "open your jerkin and let us have alook at your left breast, we shall read a true answer there. "

"Are you Englishmen?" asked the boy without making a move to comply withtheir demand. 

"That we be, my son, " said Beauchamp. 

"Then it were better that I die than do your bidding, for all Englishmenare pigs and I loathe them as becomes a gentleman of France. I do notuncover my body to the eyes of swine. "

The knights, at first taken back by this unexpected outbreak, finallyburst into uproarious laughter. 

"Indeed, " cried Paul of Merely, "spoken as one of the King's foreignfavorites might speak, and they ever told the good God's truth. But comelad, we would not harm you--do as I bid. "

"No man lives who can harm me while a blade hangs at my side, " answeredthe boy, "and as for doing as you bid, I take orders from no man otherthan my father. "

Beauchamp and Greystoke laughed aloud at the discomfiture of Paul ofMerely, but the latter's face hardened in anger, and without furtherwords he strode forward with outstretched hand to tear open the boy'sleathern jerkin, but met with the gleaming point of a sword and a quicksharp, "En garde!" from the boy. 

There was naught for Paul of Merely to do but draw his own weapon, inself-defense, for the sharp point of the boy's sword was flashing in andout against his unprotected body, inflicting painful little jabs, and the boy's tongue was murmuring low-toned taunts and insults as itinvited him to draw and defend himself or be stuck "like the English pigyou are. "

Paul of Merely was a brave man and he liked not the idea of drawingagainst this stripling, but he argued that he could quickly disarm himwithout harming the lad, and he certainly did not care to be furtherhumiliated before his comrades. 

But when he had drawn and engaged his youthful antagonist, he discoveredthat, far from disarming him, he would have the devil's own job of it tokeep from being killed. 

Never in all his long years of fighting had he faced such an agile anddexterous enemy, and as they backed this way and that about the room, great beads of sweat stood upon the brow of Paul of Merely, for herealized that he was fighting for his life against a superior swordsman. 

The loud laughter of Beauchamp and Greystoke soon subsided to grimsmiles, and presently they looked on with startled faces in which fearand apprehension were dominant. 

The boy was fighting as a cat might play with a mouse. No sign ofexertion was apparent, and his haughty confident smile told louder thanwords that he had in no sense let himself out to his full capacity. 

Around and around the room they circled, the boy always advancing, Paulof Merely always retreating. The din of their clashing swords and theheavy breathing of the older man were the only sounds, except as theybrushed against a bench or a table. 

Paul of Merely was a brave man, but he shuddered at the thought of dyinguselessly at the hands of a mere boy. He would not call upon his friendsfor aid, but presently, to his relief, Beauchamp sprang between themwith drawn sword, crying "Enough, gentlemen, enough! You have noquarrel. Sheathe your swords. "

But the boy's only response was, "En garde, cochon, " and Beauchamp foundhimself taking the center of the stage in the place of his friend. Nordid the boy neglect Paul of Merely, but engaged them both in swordplaythat caused the eyes of Greystoke to bulge from their sockets. 

So swiftly moved his flying blade that half the time it was a sheet ofgleaming light, and now he was driving home his thrusts and the smilehad frozen upon his lips--grim and stern. 

Paul of Merely and Beauchamp were wounded in a dozen places whenGreystoke rushed to their aid, and then it was that a little, wiry, grayman leaped agilely from the kitchen doorway, and with drawn sword tookhis place beside the boy. It was now two against three and the three mayhave guessed, though they never knew, that they were pitted against thetwo greatest swordsmen in the world. 

"To the death, " cried the little gray man, "a mort, mon fils. " Scarcelyhad the words left his lips ere, as though it had but waited permission, the boy's sword flashed into the heart of Paul of Merely, and a Saxongentleman was gathered to his fathers. 

The old man engaged Greystoke now, and the boy turned his undividedattention to Beauchamp. Both these men were considered excellentswordsmen, but when Beauchamp heard again the little gray man's "a mort, mon fils, " he shuddered, and the little hairs at the nape of his neckrose up, and his spine froze, for he knew that he had heard the sentenceof death passed upon him; for no mortal had yet lived who could vanquishsuch a swordsman as he who now faced him. 

As Beauchamp pitched forward across a bench, dead, the little old manled Greystoke to where the boy awaited him. 

"They are thy enemies, my son, and to thee belongs the pleasure ofrevenge; a mort, mon fils. "

Greystoke was determined to sell his life dearly, and he rushed the ladas a great bull might rush a teasing dog, but the boy gave back notan inch and, when Greystoke stopped, there was a foot of cold steelprotruding from his back. 

Together they buried the knights at the bottom of the dry moat at theback of the ruined castle. First they had stripped them and, when theytook account of the spoils of the combat, they found themselves richerby three horses with full trappings, many pieces of gold and silvermoney, ornaments and jewels, as well as the lances, swords and chainmail armor of their erstwhile guests. 

But the greatest gain, the old man thought to himself, was that theknowledge of the remarkable resemblance between his ward and PrinceEdward of England had come to him in time to prevent the undoing of hislife's work. 

The boy, while young, was tall and broad shouldered, and so the oldman had little difficulty in fitting one of the suits of armor tohim, obliterating the devices so that none might guess to whom it hadbelonged. This he did, and from then on the boy never rode abroad exceptin armor, and when he met others upon the high road, his visor wasalways lowered that none might see his face. 

The day following the episode of the three knights the old man calledthe boy to him, saying, "It is time, my son, that thou learned an answer to such questions aswere put to thee yestereve by the pigs of Henry. Thou art fifteen yearsof age, and thy name be Norman, and so, as this be the ancient castle ofTorn, thou mayst answer those whom thou desire to know it that thou artNorman of Torn; that thou be a French gentleman whose father purchasedTorn and brought thee hither from France on the death of thy mother, when thou wert six years old. 

"But remember, Norman of Torn, that the best answer for an Englishman isthe sword; naught else may penetrate his thick wit. "

And so was born that Norman of Torn, whose name in a few short yearswas to strike terror to the hearts of Englishmen, and whose power in thevicinity of Torn was greater than that of the King or the barons. 

CHAPTER VI

From now on, the old man devoted himself to the training of the boy inthe handling of his lance and battle-axe, but each day also, a periodwas allotted to the sword, until, by the time the youth had turnedsixteen, even the old man himself was as but a novice by comparison withthe marvelous skill of his pupil. 

During these days, the boy rode Sir Mortimer abroad in many directionsuntil he knew every bypath within a radius of fifty miles of Torn. Sometimes the old man accompanied him, but more often he rode alone. 

On one occasion, he chanced upon a hut at the outskirts of a smallhamlet not far from Torn and, with the curiosity of boyhood, determinedto enter and have speech with the inmates, for by this time the naturaldesire for companionship was commencing to assert itself. In all hislife, he remembered only the company of the old man, who never spokeexcept when necessity required. 

The hut was occupied by an old priest, and as the boy in armor pushedin, without the usual formality of knocking, the old man looked up withan expression of annoyance and disapproval. 

"What now, " he said, "have the King's men respect neither for piety norage that they burst in upon the seclusion of a holy man without so muchas a 'by your leave'?"

"I am no king's man, " replied the boy quietly, "I am Norman of Torn, whohas neither a king nor a god, and who says 'by your leave' to no man. But I have come in peace because I wish to talk to another than myfather. Therefore you may talk to me, priest, " he concluded with haughtyperemptoriness. 

"By the nose of John, but it must be a king has deigned to honor me withhis commands, " laughed the priest. "Raise your visor, My Lord, Iwould fain look upon the countenance from which issue the commands ofroyalty. "

The priest was a large man with beaming, kindly eyes, and a round jovialface. There was no bite in the tones of his good-natured retort, and so, smiling, the boy raised his visor. 

"By the ear of Gabriel, " cried the good father, "a child in armor!"

"A child in years, mayhap, " replied the boy, "but a good child to own asa friend, if one has enemies who wear swords. "

"Then we shall be friends, Norman of Torn, for albeit I have fewenemies, no man has too many friends, and I like your face and yourmanner, though there be much to wish for in your manners. Sit down andeat with me, and I will talk to your heart's content, for be there oneother thing I more love than eating, it is talking. "

With the priest's aid, the boy laid aside his armor, for it was heavyand uncomfortable, and together the two sat down to the meal that wasalready partially on the board. 

Thus began a friendship which lasted during the lifetime of the goodpriest. Whenever he could do so, Norman of Torn visited his friend, Father Claude. It was he who taught the boy to read and write in French, English and Latin at a time when but few of the nobles could sign theirown names. 

French was spoken almost exclusively at court and among the higherclasses of society, and all public documents were inscribed either inFrench or Latin, although about this time the first proclamation writtenin the English tongue was issued by an English king to his subjects. 

Father Claude taught the boy to respect the rights of others, to espousethe cause of the poor and weak, to revere God and to believe that theprincipal reason for man's existence was to protect woman. All of virtueand chivalry and true manhood which his old guardian had neglected toinculcate in the boy's mind, the good priest planted there, but he couldnot eradicate his deep-seated hatred for the English or his belief thatthe real test of manhood lay in a desire to fight to the death with asword. 

An occurrence which befell during one of the boy's earlier visits to hisnew friend rather decided the latter that no arguments he could bring tobear could ever overcome the bald fact that to this very belief of theboy's, and his ability to back it up with acts, the good father owed agreat deal, possibly his life. 

As they were seated in the priest's hut one afternoon, a rough knockfell upon the door which was immediately pushed open to admit asdisreputable a band of ruffians as ever polluted the sight of man. Sixof them there were, clothed in dirty leather, and wearing swords anddaggers at their sides. 

The leader was a mighty fellow with a great shock of coarse black hairand a red, bloated face almost concealed by a huge matted black beard. Behind him pushed another giant with red hair and a bristling mustache;while the third was marked by a terrible scar across his left cheek andforehead and from a blow which had evidently put out his left eye, forthat socket was empty, and the sunken eyelid but partly covered theinflamed red of the hollow where his eye had been. 

"A ha, my hearties, " roared the leader, turning to his motley crew, "fine pickings here indeed. A swine of God fattened upon the sweat ofsuch poor, honest devils as we, and a young shoat who, by his looks, must have pieces of gold in his belt. 

"Say your prayers, my pigeons, " he continued, with a vile oath, "for TheBlack Wolf leaves no evidence behind him to tie his neck with a halterlater, and dead men talk the least. "

"If it be The Black Wolf, " whispered Father Claude to the boy, "no worsefate could befall us for he preys ever upon the clergy, and when drunk, as he now is, he murders his victims. I will throw myself before themwhile you hasten through the rear doorway to your horse, and make goodyour escape. " He spoke in French, and held his hands in the attitude ofprayer, so that he quite entirely misled the ruffians, who had no ideathat he was communicating with the boy. 

Norman of Torn could scarce repress a smile at this clever ruse of theold priest, and, assuming a similar attitude, he replied in French:

"The good Father Claude does not know Norman of Torn if he thinks heruns out the back door like an old woman because a sword looks in at thefront door. "

Then rising he addressed the ruffians. 

"I do not know what manner of grievance you hold against my good friendhere, nor neither do I care. It is sufficient that he is the friend ofNorman of Torn, and that Norman of Torn be here in person to acknowledgethe debt of friendship. Have at you, sir knights of the great filth andthe mighty stink!" and with drawn sword he vaulted over the table andfell upon the surprised leader. 

In the little room, but two could engage him at once, but so fiercelydid his blade swing and so surely did he thrust that, in a bare moment, The Black Wolf lay dead upon the floor and the red giant, Shandy, wasbadly, though not fatally wounded. The four remaining ruffians backedquickly from the hut, and a more cautious fighter would have let themgo their way in peace, for in the open, four against one are odds no manmay pit himself against with impunity. But Norman of Torn saw red whenhe fought and the red lured him ever on into the thickest of the fray. Only once before had he fought to the death, but that once had taughthim the love of it, and ever after until his death, it marked his mannerof fighting; so that men who loathed and hated and feared him were asone with those who loved him in acknowledging that never before had Godjoined in the human frame absolute supremacy with the sword and suchutter fearlessness. 

So it was, now, that instead of being satisfied with his victory, herushed out after the four knaves. Once in the open, they turned uponhim, but he sprang into their midst with his seething blade, and it wasas though they faced four men rather than one, so quickly did he parrya thrust here and return a cut there. In a moment one was disarmed, another down, and the remaining two fleeing for their lives toward thehigh road with Norman of Torn close at their heels. 

Young, agile and perfect in health, he outclassed them in running aswell as in swordsmanship, and ere they had made fifty paces, both hadthrown away their swords and were on their knees pleading for theirlives. 

"Come back to the good priest's hut, and we shall see what he may say, "replied Norman of Torn. 

On the way back, they found the man who had been disarmed bending overhis wounded comrade. They were brothers, named Flory, and one would notdesert the other. It was evident that the wounded man was in no danger, so Norman of Torn ordered the others to assist him into the hut, wherethey found Red Shandy sitting propped against the wall while the goodfather poured the contents of a flagon down his eager throat. 

The villain's eyes fairly popped from his head when he saw his fourcomrades coming, unarmed and prisoners, back to the little room. 

"The Black Wolf dead, Red Shandy and John Flory wounded, James Flory, One Eye Kanty and Peter the Hermit prisoners!" he ejaculated. 

"Man or devil! By the Pope's hind leg, who and what be ye?" he said, turning to Norman of Torn. 

"I be your master and ye be my men, " said Norman of Torn. "Me ye shallserve in fairer work than ye have selected for yourselves, but withfighting a-plenty and good reward. "

The sight of this gang of ruffians banded together to prey upon theclergy had given rise to an idea in the boy's mind, which had beenrevolving in a nebulous way within the innermost recesses of hissubconsciousness since his vanquishing of the three knights had broughthim, so easily, such riches in the form of horses, arms, armor and gold. As was always his wont in his after life, to think was to act. 

"With The Black Wolf dead, and may the devil pull out his eyes with redhot tongs, we might look farther and fare worse, mates, in search of achief, " spoke Red Shandy, eyeing his fellows, "for verily any man, be hebut a stripling, who can vanquish six such as we, be fit to command us. "

"But what be the duties?" said he whom they called Peter the Hermit. 

"To follow Norman of Torn where he may lead, to protect the poor and theweak, to lay down your lives in defence of woman, and to prey upon richEnglishmen and harass the King of England. "

The last two clauses of these articles of faith appealed to the ruffiansso strongly that they would have subscribed to anything, even dailymass, and a bath, had that been necessary to admit them to the serviceof Norman of Torn. 

"Aye, aye!" they cried. "We be your men, indeed. "

"Wait, " said Norman of Torn, "there is more. You are to obey my everycommand on pain of instant death, and one-half of all your gains are tobe mine. On my side, I will clothe and feed you, furnish you with mountsand armor and weapons and a roof to sleep under, and fight for and withyou with a sword arm which you know to be no mean protector. Are yousatisfied?"

"That we are, " and "Long live Norman of Torn, " and "Here's to the chiefof the Torns" signified the ready assent of the burly cut-throats. 

"Then swear it as ye kiss the hilt of my sword and this token, " pursuedNorman of Torn catching up a crucifix from the priest's table. 

With these formalities was born the Clan Torn, which grew in a few yearsto number a thousand men, and which defied a king's army and helped tomake Simon de Montfort virtual ruler of England. 

Almost immediately commenced that series of outlaw acts upon neighboringbarons, and chance members of the gentry who happened to be caught inthe open by the outlaws, that filled the coffers of Norman of Torn withmany pieces of gold and silver, and placed a price upon his head ere hehad scarce turned eighteen. 

That he had no fear of or desire to avoid responsibility for his acts, he grimly evidenced by marking with a dagger's point upon the foreheadsof those who fell before his own sword the initials NT. 

As his following and wealth increased, he rebuilt and enlarged the grimCastle of Torn, and again dammed the little stream which had furnishedthe moat with water in bygone days. 

Through all the length and breadth of the country that witnessedhis activities, his very name was worshipped by poor and lowly andoppressed. The money he took from the King's tax gatherers, he returnedto the miserable peasants of the district, and once when Henry III senta little expedition against him, he surrounded and captured the entireforce, and, stripping them, gave their clothing to the poor, andescorted them, naked, back to the very gates of London. 

By the time he was twenty, Norman the Devil, as the King himself haddubbed him, was known by reputation throughout all England, though noman had seen his face and lived other than his friends and followers. He had become a power to reckon with in the fast culminating quarrelbetween King Henry and his foreign favorites on one side, and the Saxonand Norman barons on the other. 

Neither side knew which way his power might be turned, for Norman ofTorn had preyed almost equally upon royalist and insurgent. Personally, he had decided to join neither party, but to take advantage of theturmoil of the times to prey without partiality upon both. 

As Norman of Torn approached his grim castle home with his five filthy, ragged cut-throats on the day of his first meeting with them, the oldman of Torn stood watching the little party from one of the small towersof the barbican. 

Halting beneath this outer gate, the youth winded the horn which hung athis side in mimicry of the custom of the times. 

"What ho, without there!" challenged the old man entering grimly intothe spirit of the play. 

"'Tis Sir Norman of Torn, " spoke up Red Shandy, "with his great hostof noble knights and men-at-arms and squires and lackeys and sumpterbeasts. Open in the name of the good right arm of Sir Norman of Torn. "

"What means this, my son?" said the old man as Norman of Torn dismountedwithin the ballium. 

The youth narrated the events of the morning, concluding with, "These, then, be my men, father; and together we shall fare forth upon thehighways and into the byways of England, to collect from the richEnglish pigs that living which you have ever taught me was owing us. "

"'Tis well, my son, and even as I myself would have it; together weshall ride out, and where we ride, a trail of blood shall mark our way. 

"From now, henceforth, the name and fame of Norman of Torn shall grow inthe land, until even the King shall tremble when he hears it, and shallhate and loathe ye as I have even taught ye to hate and loathe him. 

"All England shall curse ye and the blood of Saxon and Norman shallnever dry upon your blade. "

As the old man walked away toward the great gate of the castle afterthis outbreak, Shandy, turning to Norman of Torn, with a wide grin, said:

"By the Pope's hind leg, but thy amiable father loveth the English. There should be great riding after such as he. "

"Ye ride after ME, varlet, " cried Norman of Torn, "an' lest ye shouldforget again so soon who be thy master, take that, as a reminder, " andhe struck the red giant full upon the mouth with his clenched fist--sothat the fellow tumbled heavily to the earth. 

He was on his feet in an instant, spitting blood, and in a toweringrage. As he rushed, bull-like, toward Norman of Torn, the latter madeno move to draw; he but stood with folded arms, eyeing Shandy with cold, level gaze; his head held high, haughty face marked by an arrogant sneerof contempt. 

The great ruffian paused, then stopped, slowly a sheepish smileoverspread his countenance and, going upon one knee, he took the hand ofNorman of Torn and kissed it, as some great and loyal noble knight mighthave kissed his king's hand in proof of his love and fealty. There wasa certain rude, though chivalrous grandeur in the act; and it markednot only the beginning of a lifelong devotion and loyalty on the part ofShandy toward his young master, but was prophetic of the attitude whichNorman of Torn was to inspire in all the men who served him during thelong years that saw thousands pass the barbicans of Torn to crave aposition beneath his grim banner. 

As Shandy rose, one by one, John Flory, James, his brother, One EyeKanty, and Peter the Hermit knelt before their young lord and kissedhis hand. From the Great Court beyond, a little, grim, gray, old man hadwatched this scene, a slight smile upon his old, malicious face. 

"'Tis to transcend even my dearest dreams, " he muttered. "'S death, but he be more a king than Henry himself. God speed the day of hiscoronation, when, before the very eyes of the Plantagenet hound, a blackcap shall be placed upon his head for a crown; beneath his feet theplatform of a wooden gibbet for a throne. "

CHAPTER VII

It was a beautiful spring day in May, 1262, that Norman of Torn rodealone down the narrow trail that led to the pretty cottage with which hehad replaced the hut of his old friend, Father Claude. 

As was his custom, he rode with lowered visor, and nowhere upon hisperson or upon the trappings of his horse were sign or insignia of rankor house. More powerful and richer than many nobles of the court, he waswithout rank or other title than that of outlaw and he seemed to assumewhat in reality he held in little esteem. 

He wore armor because his old guardian had urged him to do so, and notbecause he craved the protection it afforded. And, for the same cause, he rode always with lowered visor, though he could never prevail uponthe old man to explain the reason which necessitated this precaution. 

"It is enough that I tell you, my son, " the old fellow was wont to say, "that for your own good as well as mine, you must not show your face toyour enemies until I so direct. The time will come and soon now, I hope, when you shall uncover your countenance to all England. "

The young man gave the matter but little thought, usually passing it offas the foolish whim of an old dotard; but he humored it nevertheless. 

Behind him, as he rode down the steep declivity that day, loomed a verydifferent Torn from that which he had approached sixteen years before, when, as a little boy he had ridden through the darkening shadows ofthe night, perched upon a great horse behind the little old woman, whosemetamorphosis to the little grim, gray, old man of Torn their advent tothe castle had marked. 

Today the great, frowning pile loomed larger and more imposing than everin the most resplendent days of its past grandeur. The original keep wasthere with its huge, buttressed Saxon towers whose mighty fifteen footwalls were pierced with stairways and vaulted chambers, lighted byembrasures which, mere slits in the outer periphery of the walls, spreadto larger dimensions within, some even attaining the area of smalltriangular chambers. 

The moat, widened and deepened, completely encircled three sides of thecastle, running between the inner and outer walls, which were set atintervals with small projecting towers so pierced that a flanking firefrom long bows, cross bows and javelins might be directed against ascaling party. 

The fourth side of the walled enclosure overhung a high precipice, whichnatural protection rendered towers unnecessary upon this side. 

The main gateway of the castle looked toward the west and from it ranthe tortuous and rocky trail, down through the mountains toward thevalley below. The aspect from the great gate was one of quiet and ruggedbeauty. A short stretch of barren downs in the foreground only sparselystudded with an occasional gnarled oak gave an unobstructed view ofbroad and lovely meadowland through which wound a sparkling tributary ofthe Trent. 

Two more gateways let into the great fortress, one piercing the northwall and one the east. All three gates were strongly fortified withtowered and buttressed barbicans which must be taken before the maingates could be reached. Each barbican was portcullised, while the innergates were similarly safeguarded in addition to the drawbridges which, spanning the moat when lowered, could be drawn up at the approach of anenemy, effectually stopping his advance. 

The new towers and buildings added to the ancient keep under thedirection of Norman of Torn and the grim, old man whom he called father, were of the Norman type of architecture, the windows were larger, thecarving more elaborate, the rooms lighter and more spacious. 

Within the great enclosure thrived a fair sized town, for, with his tenhundred fighting-men, the Outlaw of Torn required many squires, lackeys, cooks, scullions, armorers, smithies, farriers, hostlers and the like tocare for the wants of his little army. 

Fifteen hundred war horses, beside five hundred sumpter beasts, werequartered in the great stables, while the east court was alive withcows, oxen, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and chickens. 

Great wooden carts drawn by slow, plodding oxen were daily visitors tothe grim pile, fetching provender for man and beast from the neighboringfarm lands of the poor Saxon peasants, to whom Norman of Torn paid goodgold for their crops. 

These poor serfs, who were worse than slaves to the proud barons whoowned the land they tilled, were forbidden by royal edict to sell orgive a pennysworth of provisions to the Outlaw of Torn, upon pain ofdeath, but nevertheless his great carts made their trips regularly andalways returned full laden, and though the husbandmen told sad talesto their overlords of the awful raids of the Devil of Torn in which heseized upon their stuff by force, their tongues were in their cheeks asthey spoke and the Devil's gold in their pockets. 

And so, while the barons learned to hate him the more, the peasants'love for him increased. Them he never injured; their fences, theirstock, their crops, their wives and daughters were safe from molestationeven though the neighboring castle of their lord might be sacked fromthe wine cellar to the ramparts of the loftiest tower. Nor did anyonedare ride rough shod over the territory which Norman of Torn patrolled. A dozen bands of cut-throats he had driven from the Derby hills, andthough the barons would much rather have had all the rest than he, thepeasants worshipped him as a deliverer from the lowborn murderers whohad been wont to despoil the weak and lowly and on whose account thewomen of the huts and cottages had never been safe. 

Few of them had seen his face and fewer still had spoken with him, butthey loved his name and his prowess and in secret they prayed for himto their ancient god, Wodin, and the lesser gods of the forest and themeadow and the chase, for though they were confessed Christians, stillin the hearts of many beat a faint echo of the old superstitions oftheir ancestors; and while they prayed also to the Lord Jesus and toMary, yet they felt it could do no harm to be on the safe side with theothers, in case they did happen to exist. 

A poor, degraded, downtrodden, ignorant, superstitious people, theywere; accustomed for generations to the heel of first one invader andthen another and in the interims, when there were any, the heels oftheir feudal lords and their rapacious monarchs. 

No wonder then that such as these worshipped the Outlaw of Torn, forsince their fierce Saxon ancestors had come, themselves as conquerors, to England, no other hand had ever been raised to shield them fromoppression. 

On this policy of his toward the serfs and freedmen, Norman of Torn andthe grim, old man whom he called father had never agreed. The latter wasfor carrying his war of hate against all Englishmen, but the young manwould neither listen to it, nor allow any who rode out from Torn tomolest the lowly. A ragged tunic was a surer defence against this wildhorde than a stout lance or an emblazoned shield. 

So, as Norman of Torn rode down from his mighty castle to visit FatherClaude, the sunlight playing on his clanking armor and glancing fromthe copper boss of his shield, the sight of a little group of woodmenkneeling uncovered by the roadside as he passed was not so remarkableafter all. 

Entering the priest's study, Norman of Torn removed his armor and layback moodily upon a bench with his back against a wall and his strong, lithe legs stretched out before him. 

"What ails you, my son?" asked the priest, "that you look sodisconsolate on this beautiful day?"

"I do not know, Father, " replied Norman of Torn, "unless it be that Iam asking myself the question, 'What it is all for?' Why did my fathertrain me ever to prey upon my fellows? I like to fight, but there isplenty of fighting which is legitimate, and what good may all my stolenwealth avail me if I may not enter the haunts of men to spend it? ShouldI stick my head into London town, it would doubtless stay there, held bya hempen necklace. 

"What quarrel have I with the King or the gentry? They have quarrelenough with me it is true, but, nathless, I do not know why I shouldhave hated them so before I was old enough to know how rotten theyreally are. So it seems to me that I am but the instrument of an oldman's spite, not even knowing the grievance to the avenging of which mylife has been dedicated by another. 

"And at times, Father Claude, as I grow older, I doubt much that thenameless old man of Torn is my father, so little do I favor him, andnever in all my life have I heard a word of fatherly endearment or felta caress, even as a little child. What think you, Father Claude?"

"I have thought much of it, my son, " answered the priest. "It has everbeen a sore puzzle to me, and I have my suspicions, which I have heldfor years, but which even the thought of so frightens me that I shudderto speculate upon the consequences of voicing them aloud. Norman ofTorn, if you are not the son of the old man you call father, may Godforfend that England ever guesses your true parentage. More than this, Idare not say except that, as you value your peace of mind and your life, keep your visor down and keep out of the clutches of your enemies. "

"Then you know why I should keep my visor down?"

"I can only guess, Norman of Torn, because I have seen another whom youresemble. "

The conversation was interrupted by a commotion from without; the soundof horses' hoofs, the cries of men and the clash of arms. In an instant, both men were at the tiny unglazed window. Before them, on the highroad, five knights in armor were now engaged in furious battle with a party often or a dozen other steel-clad warriors, while crouching breathless onher palfry, a young woman sat a little apart from the contestants. 

Presently, one of the knights detached himself from the melee and rodeto her side with some word of command, at the same time graspingroughly at her bridle rein. The girl raised her riding whip and struckrepeatedly but futilely against the iron headgear of her assailant whilehe swung his horse up the road, and, dragging her palfrey after him, galloped rapidly out of sight. 

Norman of Torn sprang to the door, and, reckless of his unarmoredcondition, leaped to Sir Mortimer's back and spurred swiftly in thedirection taken by the girl and her abductor. 

The great black was fleet, and, unencumbered by the usual heavy armorof his rider, soon brought the fugitives to view. Scarce a mile had beencovered ere the knight, turning to look for pursuers, saw the face ofNorman of Torn not ten paces behind him. 

With a look of mingled surprise, chagrin and incredulity the knightreined in his horse, exclaiming as he did so, "Mon Dieu, Edward!"

"Draw and defend yourself, " cried Norman of Torn. 

"But, Your Highness, " stammered the knight. 

"Draw, or I stick you as I have stuck an hundred other English pigs, "cried Norman of Torn. 

The charging steed was almost upon him and the knight looked to see therider draw rein, but, like a black bolt, the mighty Sir Mortimer struckthe other horse full upon the shoulder, and man and steed rolled in thedust of the roadway. 

The knight arose, unhurt, and Norman of Torn dismounted to give fairbattle upon even terms. Though handicapped by the weight of his armor, the knight also had the advantage of its protection, so that thetwo fought furiously for several minutes without either gaining anadvantage. 

The girl sat motionless and wide-eyed at the side of the road watchingevery move of the two contestants. She made no effort to escape, butseemed riveted to the spot by the very fierceness of the battle shewas beholding, as well, possibly, as by the fascination of the handsomegiant who had espoused her cause. As she looked upon her champion, shesaw a lithe, muscular, brown-haired youth whose clear eyes and perfectfigure, unconcealed by either bassinet or hauberk, reflected the clean, athletic life of the trained fighting man. 

Upon his face hovered a faint, cold smile of haughty pride as the swordarm, displaying its mighty strength and skill in every move, played withthe sweating, puffing, steel-clad enemy who hacked and hewed so futilelybefore him. For all the din of clashing blades and rattling armor, neither of the contestants had inflicted much damage, for the knightcould neither force nor insinuate his point beyond the perfect guard ofhis unarmored foe, who, for his part, found difficulty in penetratingthe other's armor. 

Finally, by dint of his mighty strength, Norman of Torn drove his bladethrough the meshes of his adversary's mail, and the fellow, with a cryof anguish, sank limply to the ground. 

"Quick, Sir Knight!" cried the girl. "Mount and flee; yonder come hisfellows. "

And surely, as Norman of Torn turned in the direction from which hehad just come, there, racing toward him at full tilt, rode threesteel-armored men on their mighty horses. 

"Ride, madam, " cried Norman of Torn, "for fly I shall not, nor may I, alone, unarmored, and on foot hope more than to momentarily delay thesethree fellows, but in that time you should easily make your escape. Their heavy-burdened animals could never o'ertake your fleet palfrey. "

As he spoke, he took note for the first time of the young woman. Thatshe was a lady of quality was evidenced not alone by the richness ofher riding apparel and the trappings of her palfrey, but as well in hernoble and haughty demeanor and the proud expression of her beautifulface. 

Although at this time nearly twenty years had passed over the head ofNorman of Torn, he was without knowledge or experience in the ways ofwomen, nor had he ever spoken with a female of quality or position. Nowoman graced the castle of Torn nor had the boy, within his memory, everknown a mother. 

His attitude therefore was much the same toward women as it was towardmen, except that he had sworn always to protect them. Possibly, in away, he looked up to womankind, if it could be said that Norman of Tornlooked up to anything: God, man or devil--it being more his way to lookdown upon all creatures whom he took the trouble to notice at all. 

As his glance rested upon this woman, whom fate had destined toalter the entire course of his life, Norman of Torn saw that she wasbeautiful, and that she was of that class against whom he had preyed foryears with his band of outlaw cut-throats. Then he turned once more toface her enemies with the strange inconsistency which had ever markedhis methods. 

Tomorrow he might be assaulting the ramparts of her father's castle, buttoday he was joyously offering to sacrifice his life for her--had shebeen the daughter of a charcoal burner he would have done no less. Itwas enough that she was a woman and in need of protection. 

The three knights were now fairly upon him, and with fine disregard forfair play, charged with couched spears the unarmored man on foot. But asthe leading knight came close enough to behold his face, he cried out insurprise and consternation:

"Mon Dieu, le Prince!" He wheeled his charging horse to one side. Hisfellows, hearing his cry, followed his example, and the three of themdashed on down the high road in as evident anxiety to escape as they hadbeen keen to attack. 

"One would think they had met the devil, " muttered Norman of Torn, looking after them in unfeigned astonishment. 

"What means it, lady?" he asked turning to the damsel, who had made nomove to escape. 

"It means that your face is well known in your father's realm, my LordPrince, " she replied. "And the King's men have no desire to antagonizeyou, even though they may understand as little as I why you shouldespouse the cause of a daughter of Simon de Montfort. "

"Am I then taken for Prince Edward of England?" he asked. 

"An' who else should you be taken for, my Lord?"

"I am not the Prince, " said Norman of Torn. "It is said that Edward isin France. "

"Right you are, sir, " exclaimed the girl. "I had not thought on that;but you be enough of his likeness that you might well deceive the Queenherself. And you be of a bravery fit for a king's son. Who are youthen, Sir Knight, who has bared your steel and faced death for Bertrade, daughter of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester?"

"Be you De Montfort's daughter, niece of King Henry?" queried Norman ofTorn, his eyes narrowing to mere slits and face hardening. 

"That I be, " replied the girl, "an' from your face I take it you havelittle love for a De Montfort, " she added, smiling. 

"An' whither may you be bound, Lady Bertrade de Montfort? Be you nieceor daughter of the devil, yet still you be a woman, and I do not waragainst women. Wheresoever you would go will I accompany you to safety. "

"I was but now bound, under escort of five of my father's knights, tovisit Mary, daughter of John de Stutevill of Derby. "

"I know the castle well, " answered Norman of Torn, and the shadow ofa grim smile played about his lips, for scarce sixty days had elapsedsince he had reduced the stronghold, and levied tribute on the greatbaron. "Come, you have not far to travel now, and if we make haste youshall sup with your friend before dark. "

So saying, he mounted his horse and was turning to retrace their stepsdown the road when he noticed the body of the dead knight lying where ithad fallen. 

"Ride on, " he called to Bertrade de Montfort, "I will join you in aninstant. "

Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, andlifting the dead knight's visor, drew upon the forehead with the pointof his dagger the letters NT. 

The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward herand he knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act. Brave daughter of a brave sire though she was, had she seen what hedid, her heart would have quailed within her and she would have fled interror from the clutches of this scourge of England, whose mark shehad seen on the dead foreheads of a dozen of her father's knights andkinsmen. 

Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and hereNorman of Torn stopped to don his armor. Now he rode once more withlowered visor, and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade deMontfort that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden, had excitedhis interest. 

Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to ayoung and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he hadoften seen women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious andterrible attacks. While stories were abroad of his vile treatment ofwomen captives, there was no truth in them. They were merely spread byhis enemies to incite the people against him. Never had Norman of Tornlaid violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-throat band were under oathto respect and protect the sex, on penalty of death. 

As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, somethingstirred in his heart which had been struggling for expression for years. It was not love, nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing forcompanionship of such as she, and such as she represented. Norman ofTorn could not have translated this feeling into words for he did notknow, but it was the far faint cry of blood for blood and with it, mayhap, was mixed not alone the longing of the lion among jackals forother lions, but for his lioness. 

They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:

"You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query. Who be ye?"

"I am Nor--" and then he stopped. Always before he had answered thatquestion with haughty pride. Why should he hesitate, he thought. Was itbecause he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the breast ofthis daughter of the aristocracy he despised? Did Norman of Torn fearto face the look of seem and repugnance that was sure to be mirrored inthat lovely face?

"I am from Normandy, " he went on quietly. "A gentleman of France. "

"But your name?" she said peremptorily. "Are you ashamed of your name?"

"You may call me Roger, " he answered. "Roger de Conde. "

"Raise your visor, Roger de Conde, " she commanded. "I do not takepleasure in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a manwithin. "

Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus, ashe rarely did, he was good to look upon. 

"It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertradede Montfort, " he said. 

The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and gaiety of youth andhealth; and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing asthey might have been friends of long standing. 

She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day, attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter ofColfax, to abduct her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorilyand roughly denied by her father. 

Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words, and it is doubtless thatthe old reprobate who sued for his daughter's hand heard some unsavorytruths from the man who had twice scandalized England's nobility by hisrude and discourteous, though true and candid, speeches to the King. 

"This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to, " growled Norman of Torn. "And, as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours for theasking. You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort. "

"Very well, " she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so muchindulged in in those days. "You may bring me his head upon a goldendish, Roger de Conde. "

"And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of hisprincess the head of her enemy?" he asked lightly. 

"What boon would the knight ask?"

"That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoevercalumnies may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, andbelieve in his honor and his loyalty. "

The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tellher that this was more than play. 

"It shall be as you say, Sir Knight, " she replied. "And the boon oncegranted shall be always kept. "

Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decidedthat he liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than anyother thing he knew of. And wishing it, he determined to win it by anymeans that accorded with his standard of honor; an honor which in manyrespects was higher than that of the nobles of his time. 

They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, andthere, Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept theBaron's hospitality overnight. 

The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, whenadded to his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, hemade no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome. 

At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entirehousehold of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidencesof painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still worehis sword arm in a sling. 

"We have been through grievous times, " said Sir John, noticing that hisguest was glancing at the various evidences of conflict. "That fiend, Norman the Devil, with his filthy pack of cut-throats, besieged us forten days, and then took the castle by storm and sacked it. Life is nolonger safe in England with the King spending his time and money withforeign favorites and buying alien soldiery to fight against his ownbarons, instead of insuring the peace and protection which is the rightof every Englishman at home. 

"But, " he continued, "this outlaw devil will come to the end of a shorthalter when once our civil strife is settled, for the barons themselveshave decided upon an expedition against him, if the King will not subduehim. "

"An' he may send the barons naked home as he did the King's soldiers, "laughed Bertrade de Montfort. "I should like to see this fellow; whatmay he look like--from the appearance of yourself, Sir John, and many ofyour men-at-arms, there should be no few here but have met him. "

"Not once did he raise his visor while he was among us, " replied theBaron, "but there are those who claim they had a brief glimpse of himand that he is of horrid countenance, wearing a great yellow beard andhaving one eye gone, and a mighty red scar from his forehead to hischin. "

"A fearful apparition, " murmured Norman of Torn. "No wonder he keeps hishelm closed. "

"But such a swordsman, " spoke up a son of De Stutevill. "Never in allthe world was there such swordplay as I saw that day in the courtyard. "

"I, too, have seen some wonderful swordplay, " said Bertrade de Montfort, "and that today. O he!" she cried, laughing gleefully, "verily do Ibelieve I have captured the wild Norman of Torn, for this very knight, who styles himself Roger de Conde, fights as I ne'er saw man fightbefore, and he rode with his visor down until I chide him for it. "

Norman of Torn led in the laugh which followed, and of all the companyhe most enjoyed the joke. 

"An' speaking of the Devil, " said the Baron, "how think you he will sideshould the King eventually force war upon the barons? With his thousandhell-hounds, the fate of England might well he in the palm of his bloodyhand. "

"He loves neither King nor baron, " spoke Mary de Stutevill, "and Irather lean to the thought that he will serve neither, but ratherplunder the castles of both rebel and royalist whilst their masters beabsent at war. "

"It be more to his liking to come while the master be home to welcomehim, " said De Stutevill, ruthfully. "But yet I am always in fear for thesafety of my wife and daughters when I be away from Derby for any time. May the good God soon deliver England from this Devil of Torn. "

"I think you may have no need of fear on that score, " spoke Mary, "forNorman of Torn offered no violence to any woman within the wall ofStutevill, and when one of his men laid a heavy hand upon me, it was thegreat outlaw himself who struck the fellow such a blow with his mailedhand as to crack the ruffian's helm, saying at the time, 'Know you, fellow, Norman of Torn does not war upon women?'"

Presently the conversation turned to other subjects and Norman of Tornheard no more of himself during that evening. 

His stay at the castle of Stutevill was drawn out to three days, andthen, on the third day, as he sat with Bertrade de Montfort in anembrasure of the south tower of the old castle, he spoke once more ofthe necessity for leaving and once more she urged him to remain. 

"To be with you, Bertrade of Montfort, " he said boldly, "I would foregoany other pleasure, and endure any privation, or face any danger, butthere are others who look to me for guidance and my duty calls me awayfrom you. You shall see me again, and at the castle of your father, Simon de Montfort, in Leicester. Provided, " he added, "that you willwelcome me there. "

"I shall always welcome you, wherever I may be, Roger de Conde, " repliedthe girl. 

"Remember that promise, " he said smiling. "Some day you may be glad torepudiate it. "

"Never, " she insisted, and a light that shone in her eyes as she said itwould have meant much to a man better versed in the ways of women thanwas Norman of Torn. 

"I hope not, " he said gravely. "I cannot tell you, being but poorlytrained in courtly ways, what I should like to tell you, that youmight know how much your friendship means to me. Goodbye, Bertrade deMontfort, " and he bent to one knee, as he raised her fingers to hislips. 

As he passed over the drawbridge and down toward the highroad a fewminutes later on his way back to Torn, he turned for one last look atthe castle and there, in an embrasure in the south tower, stood ayoung woman who raised her hand to wave, and then, as though by suddenimpulse, threw a kiss after the departing knight, only to disappear fromthe embrasure with the act. 

As Norman of Torn rode back to his grim castle in the hills of Derby, hehad much food for thought upon the way. Never till now had he realizedwhat might lie in another manner of life, and he felt a twinge ofbitterness toward the hard, old man whom he called father, and whoseteachings from the boy's earliest childhood had guided him in the waysthat had out him off completely from the society of other men, exceptthe wild horde of outlaws, ruffians and adventurers that rode beneaththe grisly banner of the young chief of Torn. 

Only in an ill-defined, nebulous way did he feel that it was the girlwho had come into his life that caused him for the first time to feelshame for his past deeds. He did not know the meaning of love, and so hecould not know that he loved Bertrade de Montfort. 

And another thought which now filled his mind was the fact of hisstrange likeness to the Crown Prince of England. This, together with thewords of Father Claude, puzzled him sorely. What might it mean? Was it aheinous offence to own an accidental likeness to a king's son?

But now that he felt he had solved the reason that he rode always withclosed helm, he was for the first time anxious himself to hide his facefrom the sight of men. Not from fear, for he knew not fear, but fromsome inward impulse which he did not attempt to fathom. 

CHAPTER VIII

As Norman of Torn rode out from the castle of De Stutevill, FatherClaude dismounted from his sleek donkey within the ballium of Torn. Theaustere stronghold, notwithstanding its repellent exterior and unsavoryreputation, always extended a warm welcome to the kindly, genial priest;not alone because of the deep friendship which the master of Torn feltfor the good father, but through the personal charm, and lovableness ofthe holy man's nature, which shone alike on saint and sinner. 

It was doubtless due to his unremitting labors with the youthful Norman, during the period that the boy's character was most amenable to strongimpressions, that the policy of the mighty outlaw was in many respectspure and lofty. It was this same influence, though, which won for FatherClaude his only enemy in Torn; the little, grim, gray, old man whosesole aim in life seemed to have been to smother every finer instinct ofchivalry and manhood in the boy, to whose training he had devoted thepast nineteen years of his life. 

As Father Claude climbed down from his donkey--fat people do not"dismount"--a half dozen young squires ran forward to assist him, and tolead the animal to the stables. 

The good priest called each of his willing helpers by name, asking aquestion here, passing a merry joke there with the ease and familiaritythat bespoke mutual affection and old acquaintance. 

As he passed in through the great gate, the men-at-arms threw himlaughing, though respectful, welcomes and within the great court, beautified with smooth lawn, beds of gorgeous plants, fountains, statuesand small shrubs and bushes, he came upon the giant, Red Shandy, now theprincipal lieutenant of Norman of Torn. 

"Good morrow, Saint Claude!" cried the burly ruffian. "Hast come to saveour souls, or damn us? What manner of sacrilege have we committed now, or have we merited the blessings of Holy Church? Dost come to scold, orpraise?"

"Neither, thou unregenerate villain, " cried the priest, laughing. "Though methinks ye merit chiding for the grievous poor courtesy withwhich thou didst treat the great Bishop of Norwich the past week. "

"Tut, tut, Father, " replied Red Shandy. "We did but aid him to adheremore closely to the injunctions and precepts of Him whose servant anddisciple he claims to be. Were it not better for an Archbishop of HisChurch to walk in humility and poverty among His people, than to be eversurrounded with the temptations of fine clothing, jewels and much gold, to say nothing of two sumpter beasts heavy laden with runlets of wine?"

"I warrant his temptations were less by at least as many runlets ofwine as may be borne by two sumpter beasts when thou, red robber, hadfinished with him, " exclaimed Father Claude. 

"Yes, Father, " laughed the great fellow, "for the sake of Holy Church, Idid indeed confiscate that temptation completely, and if you must needshave proof in order to absolve me from my sins, come with me now and youshall sample the excellent discrimination which the Bishop of Norwichdisplays in the selection of his temptations. "

"They tell me you left the great man quite destitute of finery, RedShandy, " continued Father Claude, as he locked his arm in that of theoutlaw and proceeded toward the castle. 

"One garment was all that Norman of Torn would permit him, and as thesun was hot overhead, he selected for the Bishop a bassinet for thatsingle article of apparel, to protect his tonsured pate from the rays ofold sol. Then, fearing that it might be stolen from him by some vandalsof the road, he had One Eye Kanty rivet it at each side of the gorget sothat it could not be removed by other than a smithy, and thus, strappedface to tail upon a donkey, he sent the great Bishop of Norwich rattlingdown the dusty road with his head, at least, protected from the idlegaze of whomsoever he might chance to meet. Forty stripes he gave toeach of the Bishop's retinue for being abroad in bad company; but come, here we are where you shall have the wine as proof of my tale. "

As the two sat sipping the Bishop's good Canary, the little old man ofTorn entered. He spoke to Father Claude in a surly tone, asking him ifhe knew aught of the whereabouts of Norman of Torn. 

"We have seen nothing of him since, some three days gone, he rode out inthe direction of your cottage, " he concluded. 

"Why, yes, " said the priest, "I saw him that day. He had an adventurewith several knights from the castle of Peter of Colfax, from whom herescued a damsel whom I suspect from the trappings of her palfrey to beof the house of Montfort. Together they rode north, but thy son didnot say whither or for what purpose. His only remark, as he donned hisarmor, while the girl waited without, was that I should now behold thefalcon guarding the dove. Hast he not returned?"

"No, " said the old man, "and doubtless his adventure is of a naturein line with thy puerile and effeminate teachings. Had he followed mytraining, without thy accurst priestly interference, he had made aniron-barred nest in Torn for many of the doves of thy damned Englishnobility. An' thou leave him not alone, he will soon be seeking servicein the household of the King. "

"Where, perchance, he might be more at home than here, " said the priestquietly. 

"Why say you that?" snapped the little old man, eyeing Father Claudenarrowly. 

"Oh, " laughed the priest, "because he whose power and mien be even morekingly than the King's would rightly grace the royal palace, " but he hadnot failed to note the perturbation his remark had caused, nor did hisoff-hand reply entirely deceive the old man. 

At this juncture, a squire entered to say that Shandy's presence wasrequired at the gates, and that worthy, with a sorrowing and regretfulglance at the unemptied flagon, left the room. 

For a few moments, the two men sat in meditative silence, which waspresently broken by the old man of Torn. 

"Priest, " he said, "thy ways with my son are, as you know, not to myliking. It were needless that he should have wasted so much precioustime from swordplay to learn the useless art of letters. Of what benefitmay a knowledge of Latin be to one whose doom looms large before him. Itmay be years and again it may be but months, but as sure as there be adevil in hell, Norman of Torn will swing from a king's gibbet. And thouknowst it, and he too, as well as I. The things which thou hast taughthim be above his station, and the hopes and ambitions they inspire willbut make his end the bitterer for him. Of late I have noted that herides upon the highway with less enthusiasm than was his wont, but hehas gone too far ever to go back now; nor is there where to go back to. What has he ever been other than outcast and outlaw? What hopes couldyou have engendered in his breast greater than to be hated and fearedamong his blood enemies?"

"I knowst not thy reasons, old man, " replied the priest, "for devotingthy life to the ruining of his, and what I guess at be such as I darenot voice; but let us understand each other once and for all. For allthou dost and hast done to blight and curse the nobleness of his nature, I have done and shall continue to do all in my power to controvert. Asthou hast been his bad angel, so shall I try to be his good angel, andwhen all is said and done and Norman of Torn swings from the King'sgibbet, as I only too well fear he must, there will be more to mourn hisloss than there be to curse him. 

"His friends are from the ranks of the lowly, but so too were thefriends and followers of our Dear Lord Jesus; so that shall be moregreatly to his honor than had he preyed upon the already unfortunate. 

"Women have never been his prey; that also will be spoken of to hishonor when he is gone, and that he has been cruel to men will beforgotten in the greater glory of his mercy to the weak. 

"Whatever be thy object: whether revenge or the natural bent of a crueland degraded mind, I know not; but if any be curst because of the Outlawof Torn, it will be thou--I had almost said, unnatural father; but I donot believe a single drop of thy debased blood flows in the veins of himthou callest son. "

The grim old man of Torn had sat motionless throughout this indictment, his face, somewhat pale, was drawn into lines of malevolent hatred andrage, but he permitted Father Claude to finish without interruption. 

"Thou hast made thyself and thy opinions quite clear, " he said bitterly, "but I be glad to know just how thou standeth. In the past there hasbeen peace between us, though no love; now let us both understandthat it be war and hate. My life work is cut out for me. Others, likethyself, have stood in my path, yet today I am here, but where are they?Dost understand me, priest?" And the old man leaned far across the tableso that his eyes, burning with an insane fire of venom, blazed but a fewinches from those of the priest. 

Father Claude returned the look with calm level gaze. 

"I understand, " he said, and, rising, left the castle. 

Shortly after he had reached his cottage, a loud knock sounded at thedoor, which immediately swung open without waiting the formality ofpermission. Father Claude looked up to see the tall figure of Norman ofTorn, and his face lighted with a pleased smile of welcome. 

"Greetings, my son, " said the priest. 

"And to thee, Father, " replied the outlaw, "And what may be the news ofTorn. I have been absent for several days. Is all well at the castle?"

"All be well at the castle, " replied Father Claude, "if by that you meanhave none been captured or hanged for their murders. Ah, my boy, whywilt thou not give up this wicked life of thine? It has never been myway to scold or chide thee, yet always hath my heart ached for eachcrime laid at the door of Norman of Torn. "

"Come, come, Father, " replied the outlaw, "what dost I that I have notgood example for from the barons, and the King, and Holy Church. Murder, theft, rapine! Passeth a day over England which sees not one or allperpetrated in the name of some of these?

"Be it wicked for Norman of Torn to prey upon the wolf, yet righteousfor the wolf to tear the sheep? Methinks not. Only do I collect fromthose who have more than they need, from my natural enemies; while theyprey upon those who have naught. 

"Yet, " and his manner suddenly changed, "I do not love it, Father. Thatthou know. I would that there might be some way out of it, but there isnone. 

"If I told you why I wished it, you would be surprised indeed, nor can Imyself understand; but, of a verity, my greatest wish to be out ofthis life is due to the fact that I crave the association of those veryenemies I have been taught to hate. But it is too late, Father, therecan be but one end and that the lower end of a hempen rope. "

"No, my son, there is another way, an honorable way, " replied the goodFather. "In some foreign clime there be opportunities abundant for suchas thee. France offers a magnificent future to such a soldier as Normanof Torn. In the court of Louis, you would take your place among thehighest of the land. You be rich and brave and handsome. Nay do notraise your hand. You be all these and more, for you have learning farbeyond the majority of nobles, and you have a good heart and a truechivalry of character. With such wondrous gifts, naught could bar yourway to the highest pinnacles of power and glory, while here you have nofuture beyond the halter. Canst thou hesitate, Norman of Torn?"

The young man stood silent for a moment, then he drew his hand acrosshis eyes as though to brush away a vision. 

"There be a reason, Father, why I must remain in England for a time atleast, though the picture you put is indeed wondrous alluring. "

And the reason was Bertrade de Montfort. 

CHAPTER IX

The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevillwas drawing to a close. Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde hadridden out from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsomeyoung knight's name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and herfairer friend. 

Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the greatcourt, their arms about each other's waists, pouring the lastconfidences into each other's ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected toreturn to Leicester. 

"Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade, " said Mary. "Wert myfather here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only thesmall escort which we be able to give. "

"Fear not, Mary, " replied Bertrade. "Five of thy father's knights beample protection for so short a journey. By evening it will have beenaccomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received sucha sound set back from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he willventure again to molest me. "

"But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade?" urged Mary. "Onlyyestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's men-at-arms came limping tous with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on hismaster's household. He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst think of naughtmore horrible than to fall into his hands. "

"Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Normanof Torn was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father'scastle. How be it thou so soon has changed thy mind?"

"Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows whathorrid freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyondcompare. Again, forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry'sniece; against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatredand his vengeance. Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be suremy father must return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany theeinstead of five. "

"What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary? Thy reasoning is ona parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark. 

"If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that fiveknights were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but amouthful to that horrid horde of unhung murderers. No, Mary, I shallstart tomorrow and your good knights shall return the following day withthe best of word from me. "

"If thou wilst, thou wilst, " cried Mary petulantly. "Indeed it wereplain that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery besecond only to their historic stubbornness. "

Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek. 

"Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroadto protect me. Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for ofa truth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I ere sawfight before. "

"Methinks, " said Mary, still peeved at her friend's determination toleave on the morrow, "that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger allunarmed, that still would you send back my father's knights. "

Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mountto her cheek. 

"Thou be a fool, Mary, " she said. 

Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying thediscomfiture of the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed. 

"Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; butnow I seest that I divined all too truly. He be indeed good to lookupon, but what knowest thou of him?"

"Hush, Mary!" commanded Bertrade. "Thou know not what thou sayest. Iwould not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, andthen--it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and noword hath he sent. "

"Oh, ho, " cried the little plague, "so there lies the wind? My Ladywould not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has senther no word. Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade. "

"I will not talk with you, Mary, " cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaledfoot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward thecastle. 

In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sidesof a little table. The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout. His red, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the mannerof his life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabbyover his receding chin, indicated the base passions to which his lifeand been given. His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suitof armor and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his guestmight be. It was the little armored man who was speaking. 

"Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter, " he said, "thatyou must have my reasons? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be thepassion which moves me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture themaiden; give me ten knights and I will bring her to you. "

"How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father's castle?" askedPeter of Colfax. 

"That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, ifthou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that wemay take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow. "

Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse ofLeicester's to catch him in some trap. He did not know his guest--thefellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method ofobtaining the necessary assistance to capture her. 

"Come, " said the little, armored man irritably. "I cannot bide hereforever. Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge, and if thou wilst not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians andthen not even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more. "

This last threat decided the Baron. 

"It is agreed, " he said. "The men shall ride out with you in half anhour. Wait below in the courtyard. "

When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned hissquire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen. 

"Guy, " said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, "ye made a rare fizzleof a piece of business some weeks ago. Ye wot of which I speak?"

"Yes, My Lord. "

"It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrievethy blunder. Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in thecourtyard below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which yelost to a handful of men before. You understand?"

"Yes, My Lord!"

"And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us. At the first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slayhim. Tell the others that these be my orders. "

"Yes, My Lord. When do we ride?"

"At once. You may go. "

The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to herfather's castle dawned gray and threatening. In vain did Mary deStutevill plead with her friend to give up the idea of setting outupon such a dismal day and without sufficient escort, but Bertrade deMontfort was firm. 

"Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightlythat even I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort. Ishall have enough to account for as it be. Do not urge me to add evenone more day to my excuses. And again, perchance, my mother and myfather may be sore distressed by my continued absence. No, Mary, I mustride today. " And so she did, with the five knights that could be sparedfrom the castle's defence. 

Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so thatthey were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road, wrapped in mantle and surcoat. As they proceeded, the rain and windincreased in volume, until it was being driven into their faces in suchblinding gusts that they must needs keep their eyes closed and trust tothe instincts of their mounts. 

Less than half the journey had been accomplished. They were windingacross a little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest, into the somber shadows of which the road wound. There was a glint ofarmor among the drenched foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of theriders saw it not. On they came, their patient horses plodding slowlythrough the sticky road and hurtling storm. 

Now they were half way up the ridge's side. There was a movement in thedark shadows of the grim wood, and then, without cry or warning, a bandof steel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears. Charging at fullrun down upon them, they overthrew three of the girl's escort before ablow could be struck in her defense. Her two remaining guardians wheeledto meet the return attack, and nobly did they acquit themselves, for ittook the entire eleven who were pitted against them to overcome and slaythe two. 

In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of herassailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spursto her palfrey and escaped. Calling to his companions he set out at arapid pace in pursuit. 

Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade deMontfort urged her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized thearms of Peter of Colfax on the shields of several of the attackingparty. 

Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed. The great beastsof her pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been tetheredin their stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the flyingwhite steed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies throughthe clouds. 

But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man's foresight, Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day. As itwas, however, her fleet mount had carried her but two hundred yards ere, in the midst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope stretched acrossthe roadway between two trees. 

As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope, Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a little, limp bedraggled figure, in the mud of the road. 

There they found her. The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount, so indifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter ofColfax, it was all the same to him. In either event, his purpose wouldbe accomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman ofTorn from the path he had laid out for him. 

That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo theSpaniard, the single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whosemean aid the little grim, gray man had purchased since many months tospy upon the comings and goings of the great outlaw. 

The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade deMontfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number. 

"Come, " said the man called Guy, "if there be life left in her, we musthasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct. "

"I leave ye here, " said the little old man. "My part of the business isdone. "

And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the foresttoward the castle of Colfax. 

Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the fiveknights of Sir John de Stutevill. Three were already dead, the othertwo, sorely but not mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside. 

The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and, with his long sword, silently finished the two wounded men. Then, drawing his dagger, he made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each ofthe five, and mounting, rode rapidly toward Torn. 

"And if one fact be not enough, " he muttered, "that mark upon the deadwill quite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses ofTorn and Leicester. "

Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of adozen of his father's knights on the road to Stutevill. 

Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and PrincessEleanor, his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted theiroldest son off to the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home. 

With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidlyalong the muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a whitepalfrey standing huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward thedriving storm. 

"By God, " cried De Montfort, "tis my sister's own Abdul. There besomething wrong here indeed. " But a rapid search of the vicinity, andloud calls brought no further evidence of the girl's whereabouts, sothey pressed on toward Stutevill. 

Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found, they came upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompaniedBertrade from Stutevill. 

Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men. The arms upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these hadbeen Bertrade's escort from Stutevill. 

As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, therestared up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreadedsign, NT, scratched there with a dagger's point. 

"The curse of God be on him!" cried De Montfort. "It be the work of theDevil of Torn, my gentlemen, " he said to his followers. "Come, we needno further guide to our destination. " And, remounting, the little partyspurred back toward Torn. 

When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in astrange room, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothlessold woman, whose smile was but a fangless snarl. 

"Ho, ho!" she croaked. "The bride waketh. I told My Lord that it wouldtake more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort. Come, come, now, arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom canst scarcerestrain his eager desire to fold thee in his arms. Below in thegreat hall he paces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteouscountenance. "

"Who be ye?" cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed fromthe effects of her fall. "Where am I?" and then, "O, Mon Dieu!" as sheremembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon theshields of the attacking party. In an instant she realized the horror ofher predicament; its utter hopelessness. 

Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of theKing; and the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her causewith Henry, for it was more than counter-balanced by the fact that shewas the daughter of Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and hated. 

In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet, and presently a man's voice at the door. 

"Within there, Coll! Hast the damsel awakened from her swoon?"

"Yes, Sir Peter, " replied the old woman, "I was but just urging her toarise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her below. "

"Haste then, My Lady Bertrade, " called the man, "no harm will be donethee if thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for. I will awaitthee in the great hall, or, if thou prefer, wilt come to thee here. "

The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but thetones of her answer were calm and level. 

"I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon, " and rising, she hastened todress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down thestairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned. 

The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girlwould not talk. Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possiblemeans of escape. 

A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peterof Colfax. The room was empty. Little change had been wrought in theapartment since the days of Ethelwolf. As the girl's glance ranged thehall in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed windowsbeyond which lay freedom. Would she ever again breathe God's pure airoutside these stifling walls? These grimy hateful walls! Black as theinky rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a few shadesless begrimed, where repairs had been made. As her eyes fell upon thetrophies of war and chase which hung there her lips curled in scorn, forshe knew that they were acquisitions by inheritance rather than by thepersonal prowess of the present master of Colfax. 

A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light froma small wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather toaccentuate the dim shadows of the place. 

Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table, blackened by age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dentedand nicked by the pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords whenwild and lusty brawlers had been moved to applause by the lay of somewandering minstrel, or the sterner call of their mighty chieftains forthe oath of fealty. 

Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavychairs which completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, andshe shuddered. One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floorwhich was littered with a miscellany of rushes interspread with suchbones and scraps of food as the dogs had rejected or overlooked. 

But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give butpassing heed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quicklyhave the encounter over and learn what fate the future held in store forher. 

Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and thatin addition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment, whereshe had entered, there was but one other door leading from the hall. This was at one side, and as it stood ajar she could see that it ledinto a small room, apparently a bedchamber. 

As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind herand directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From theblack mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he closedthe panel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl. At the edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attracther attention. 

If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of hisappearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head asshe said:

"What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treacheryagainst thy neighbor's daughter and thy sovereign's niece?"

"When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent, " replied thepot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning tone, "love must still findits way; and so thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy greatfather and majestic uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteousBertrade, knowing full well that thine hath been hungering after itsince we didst first avow our love to thy hard-hearted sire. See, Ikneel to thee, my dove!" And with cracking joints the fat baron plumpeddown upon his marrow bones. 

Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed intoa sneering smile. 

"Thou art a fool, Sir Peter, " she said, "and, at that, the worst speciesof fool--an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause, for I willhave none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word ofwhat hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go, 'tis allI ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you wouldhave. I do not love you, nor ever can I. "

Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his alreadyruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to risewith dignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the factthat his huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all foursbefore he could rise, so that he got up much after the manner of a cow, raising his stern high in air in a most ludicrous fashion. As he gainedhis feet he saw the girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter onher face. 

"Return to thy chamber, " he thundered. "I will give thee until tomorrowto decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, ortake another position in his household which will bar thee for all timefrom the society of thy kind. "

The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips. 

"I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched, degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hastnot the guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for wellye know that Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his ownhand if he ever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me, his daughter. " And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, andmounted to her tower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax. 

The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late thefollowing afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner beforehim once more. So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl's fearsthat she felt fully certain that the Baron was quite equal to his direthreat, and so she had again been casting about for some means of escapeor delay. 

The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of thecastle, fully a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasureoverlooked. There was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction. The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars, and itselfcomposed of mighty planks of the same wood, cross barred with iron. 

If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she couldbarricade herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fatein the hope that succor might come from some source. But her most subtlewiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of her harpyjailer; and now that the final summons had come, she was beside herselffor a lack of means to thwart her captor. 

Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of theold woman and this Bertrade determined to have. 

Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon theold woman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl'sbody to see what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reachedquickly to her side and snatched the weapon from its sheath. Quicklyshe sprang back from the old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm, rushed upon her. 

"Back!" cried the girl. "Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt feel thelength of thine own blade. "

The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a mosthorrible manner, at the same time calling for help. 

Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain whereshe was, on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars intoplace. Scarcely had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter ofColfax, with a dozen servants and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly uponthe outside. 

"What's wrong within, Coll, " cried the Baron. 

"The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me, " shriekedthe old woman. 

"An' that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax, " spoke Bertrade, "if you donot immediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy castle, forI will not step my foot from this room until I know that mine own peoplestand without. "

Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all invain. So passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castlethe Baron desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisonerout. 

Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guardingher prisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a singlesecond. All that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, itfound her position unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag. 

Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuadeher to come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conductto her father's castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to befooled by his lying tongue. 

"Then will I starve you out, " he cried at length. 

"Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul hands, "replied the girl. "But thy old servant here will starve first, for shebe very old and not so strong as I. Therefore, how will it profit you tokill two and still be robbed of thy prey?"

Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner wouldcarry out her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels, axes and saws upon the huge door. 

For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it waslate at night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit ahand and arm, but the first one intruded within the room to raise thebars was drawn quickly back with a howl of pain from its owner. Thusthe keen dagger in the girl's hand put an end to all hopes of enteringwithout completely demolishing the door. 

To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peterof Colfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they hadmade. Bertrade replied but once. 

"Seest thou this poniard?" she asked. "When that door falls, this pointenters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou, poltroon, to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable. "

As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for thefirst time during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glancefrom the old hag. It was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of atigress the old woman was upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping thewrist which held the dagger. 

"Quick, My Lord!" she shrieked, "the bolts, quick. "

Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in thedoor and a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the oldwoman. 

Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fingers, and at theBaron's bidding, they dragged her to the great hall below. 

As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strodeback and forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally hestopped before the girl standing rigid in the center of the room. 

"Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort?" he asked angrily. "I have offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter ofColfax, or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, whatbe your answer now?"

"The same as it has been these past two days, " she replied with haughtyscorn. "The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife normistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man. I would die, it seems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me. You do not dare totouch me, you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king, wed to the warty toad, Peter of Colfax!"

"Hold, chit!" cried the Baron, livid with rage. "You have gone too far. Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love erethe sun rises. " And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by thearm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room. 

CHAPTER X

For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and hissojourn at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy withhis wild horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, aroyalist baron who had captured and hanged two of the outlaw's fightingmen; and never again after his meeting with the daughter of the chief ofthe barons did Norman of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or theirfriends. 

Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome ofhis expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of adozen armed knights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learnthe mission of the party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessibleand unhospitable fortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozenknights would venture with hostile intent within the clutches of hisgreat band of villains. 

The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort, oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truceand would have speech with the master of Torn. 

"Admit them, Shandy, " commanded Norman of Torn, "I will speak with themhere. "

When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence itfound itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor. 

Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced theoutlaw. 

"Be ye Norman of Torn?" he asked. And, did he try to conceal the hatredand loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful. 

"They call me so, " replied the visored knight. "And what may bring a DeMontfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?"

"Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn, " replied the young man. "It is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for youhave us entirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid, only be quick and let me hence with my sister. "

"What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What meanyou?"

"Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two dayssince, after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who werefetching her home from a visit upon the Baron's daughter. We know thatit was you for the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil's mark. "

"Shandy!" roared Norman of Torn. "WHAT MEANS THIS? Who has been upon theroad, attacking women, in my absence? You were here and in charge duringmy visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, the truth!"

"Since you laid me low in the hut of the good priest, I have served youwell, Norman of Torn. You should know my loyalty by this time and thatnever have I lied to you. No man of yours has done this thing, nor isit the first time that vile scoundrels have placed your mark upon theirdead that they might thus escape suspicion, themselves. "

"Henry de Montfort, " said Norman of Torn, turning to his visitor, "we ofTorn bear no savory name, that I know full well, but no man may say thatwe unsheath our swords against women. Your sister is not here. I giveyou the word of honor of Norman of Torn. Is it not enough?"

"They say you never lie, " replied De Montfort. "Would to God I knew whohad done this thing, or which way to search for my sister. "

Norman of Torn made no reply, his thoughts were in wild confusion, andit was with difficulty that he hid the fierce anxiety of his heart orhis rage against the perpetrators of this dastardly act which tore hiswhole being. 

In silence De Montfort turned and left, nor had his party scarce passedthe drawbridge ere the castle of Torn was filled with hurrying men andthe noise and uproar of a sudden call to arms. 

Some thirty minutes later, five hundred iron-clad horses carried theirmailed riders beneath the portcullis of the grim pile, and Norman theDevil, riding at their head, spurred rapidly in the direction of thecastle of Peter of Colfax. 

The great troop, winding down the rocky trail from Torn's buttressedgates, presented a picture of wild barbaric splendor. 

The armor of the men was of every style and metal from the ancientbanded mail of the Saxon to the richly ornamented plate armor of Milan. Gold and silver and precious stones set in plumed crest and breastplateand shield, and even in the steel spiked chamfrons of the horses' headarmor showed the rich loot which had fallen to the portion of Norman ofTorn's wild raiders. 

Fluttering pennons streamed from five hundred lance points, and the graybanner of Torn, with the black falcon's wing, flew above each of thefive companies. The great linden wood shields of the men were coveredwith gray leather and, in the upper right hand corner of each, was theblack falcon's wing. The surcoats of the riders were also uniform, beingof dark gray villosa faced with black wolf skin, so that notwithstandingthe richness of the armor and the horse trappings, there was a grim, gray warlike appearance to these wild companies that comported well withtheir reputation. 

Recruited from all ranks of society and from every civilized country ofEurope, the great horde of Torn numbered in its ten companies serf andnoble; Britain, Saxon, Norman, Dane, German, Italian and French, Scot, Pict and Irish. 

Here birth caused no distinctions; the escaped serf, with the gallmarks of his brass collar still visible about his neck, rode shoulder toshoulder with the outlawed scion of a noble house. The only requisitesfor admission to the troop were willingness and ability to fight, and anoath to obey the laws made by Norman of Torn. 

The little army was divided into ten companies of one hundred men, eachcompany captained by a fighter of proven worth and ability. 

Our old friends Red Shandy, and John and James Flory led the first threecompanies, the remaining seven being under command of other seasonedveterans of a thousand fights. 

One Eye Kanty, owing to his early trade, held the always importantpost of chief armorer, while Peter the Hermit, the last of the fivecut-throats whom Norman of Torn had bested that day, six years before, in the hut of Father Claude, had become majordomo of the great castle ofTorn, which post included also the vital functions of quartermaster andcommissary. 

The old man of Torn attended to the training of serf and squire inthe art of war, for it was ever necessary to fill the gaps made in thecompanies, due to their constant encounters upon the highroad and theirbattles at the taking of some feudal castle; in which they did notalways come off unscathed, though usually victorious. 

Today, as they wound west across the valley, Norman of Torn rode at thehead of the cavalcade, which strung out behind him in a long column. Above his gray steel armor, a falcon's wing rose from his crest. It wasthe insignia which always marked him to his men in the midst of battle. Where it waved might always be found the fighting and the honors, andabout it they were wont to rally. 

Beside Norman of Torn rode the grim, gray, old man, silent and taciturn;nursing his deep hatred in the depths of his malign brain. 

At the head of their respective companies rode the five captains: RedShandy; John Flory; Edwild the Serf; Emilio, Count de Gropello of Italy;and Sieur Ralph de la Campnee, of France. 

The hamlets and huts which they passed in the morning and earlyafternoon brought forth men, women and children to cheer and waveGod-speed to them; but as they passed farther from the vicinity of Torn, where the black falcon wing was known more by the ferocity of itsname than by the kindly deeds of the great outlaw to the lowly of hisneighborhood, they saw only closed and barred doors with an occasionalfrightened face peering from a tiny window. 

It was midnight ere they sighted the black towers of Colfax silhouettedagainst the starry sky. Drawing his men into the shadows of the foresta half mile from the castle, Norman of Torn rode forward with Shandyand some fifty men to a point as close as they could come without beingobserved. Here they dismounted and Norman of Torn crept stealthilyforward alone. 

Taking advantage of every cover, he approached to the very shadows ofthe great gate without being detected. In the castle, a light shonedimly from the windows of the great hall, but no other sign of life wasapparent. To his intense surprise, Norman of Torn found the drawbridgelowered and no sign of watchmen at the gate or upon the walls. 

As he had sacked this castle some two years since, he was familiar withits internal plan, and so he knew that through the scullery he couldreach a small antechamber above, which let directly into the great hall. 

And so it happened that, as Peter of Colfax wheeled toward the door ofthe little room, he stopped short in terror, for there before him stooda strange knight in armor, with lowered visor and drawn sword. The girlsaw him too, and a look of hope and renewed courage overspread her face. 

"Draw!" commanded a low voice in English, "unless you prefer to pray, for you are about to die. "

"Who be ye, varlet?" cried the Baron. "Ho, John! Ho, Guy! To the rescue, quick!" he shrieked, and drawing his sword, he attempted to back quicklytoward the main doorway of the hall; but the man in armor was upon himand forcing him to fight ere he had taken three steps. 

It had been short shrift for Peter of Colfax that night had not John andGuy and another of his henchmen rushed into the room with drawn swords. 

"Ware! Sir Knight, " cried the girl, as she saw the three knaves rushingto the aid of their master. 

Turning to meet their assault, the knight was forced to abandon theterror-stricken Baron for an instant, and again he had made for thedoorway bent only on escape; but the girl had divined his intentions, and running quickly to the entrance, she turned the great lock and threwthe key with all her might to the far corner of the hall. In an instantshe regretted her act, for she saw that where she might have reducedher rescuer's opponents by at least one, she had now forced the cowardlyBaron to remain, and nothing fights more fiercely than a cornered rat. 

The knight was holding his own splendidly with the three retainers, andfor an instant Bertrade de Montfort stood spell-bound by the exhibitionof swordsmanship she was witnessing. 

Fighting the three alternately, in pairs and again all at the sametime, the silent knight, though weighted by his heavy armor, forced themsteadily back; his flashing blade seeming to weave a net of steel aboutthem. Suddenly his sword stopped just for an instant, stopped in theheart of one of his opponents, and as the man lunged to the floor, it was flashing again close to the breasts of the two remainingmen-at-arms. 

Another went down less than ten seconds later, and then the girl'sattention was called to the face of the horrified Baron; Peter of Colfaxwas moving--slowly and cautiously, he was creeping, from behind, towardthe visored knight, and in his raised hand flashed a sharp dagger. 

For an instant, the girl stood frozen with horror, unable to move afinger or to cry out; but only for an instant, and then, regainingcontrol of her muscles, she stooped quickly and, grasping a heavyfoot-stool, hurled it full at Peter of Colfax. 

It struck him below the knees and toppled him to the floor just as theknight's sword passed through the throat of his final antagonist. 

As the Baron fell, he struck heavily upon a table which supportedthe only lighted cresset within the chamber. In an instant, all wasdarkness. There was a rapid shuffling sound as of the scurrying of ratsand then the quiet of the tomb settled upon the great hall. 

"Are you safe and unhurt, my Lady Bertrade?" asked a grave English voiceout of the darkness. 

"Quite, Sir Knight, " she replied, "and you?"

"Not a scratch, but where is our good friend the Baron?"

"He lay here upon the floor but a moment since, and carried a thin longdagger in his hand. Have a care, Sir Knight, he may even now be uponyou. "

The knight did not answer, but she heard him moving boldly about theroom. Soon he had found another lamp and made a light. As its feeblerays slowly penetrated the black gloom, the girl saw the bodies ofthe three men-at-arms, the overturned table and lamp, and the visoredknight; but Peter of Colfax was gone. 

The knight perceived his absence at the same time, but he only laughed alow, grim laugh. 

"He will not go far, My Lady Bertrade, " he said. 

"How know you my name?" she asked. "Who may you be? I do not recognizeyour armor, and your breastplate bears no arms. "

He did not answer at once and her heart rose in her breast as it filledwith the hope that her brave rescuer might be the same Roger de Condewho had saved her from the hirelings of Peter of Colfax but a few shortweeks since. Surely it was the same straight and mighty figure, andthere was the marvelous swordplay as well. It must be he, and yet Rogerde Conde had spoken no English while this man spoke it well, though, itwas true, with a slight French accent. 

"My Lady Bertrade, I be Norman of Torn, " said the visored knight withquiet dignity. 

The girl's heart sank, and a feeling of cold fear crept through her. Foryears that name had been the symbol of fierce cruelty, and mad hatredagainst her kind. Little children were frightened into obedience by thevaguest hint that the Devil of Torn would get them, and grown men hadcome to whisper the name with grim, set lips. 

"Norman of Torn!" she whispered. "May God have mercy on my soul!"

Beneath the visored helm, a wave of pain and sorrow surged acrossthe countenance of the outlaw, and a little shudder, as of a chill ofhopelessness, shook his giant frame. 

"You need not fear, My Lady, " he said sadly. "You shall be in yourfather's castle of Leicester ere the sun marks noon. And you will besafer under the protection of the hated Devil of Torn than with your ownmighty father, or your royal uncle. "

"It is said that you never lie, Norman of Torn, " spoke the girl, "and Ibelieve you, but tell me why you thus befriend a De Montfort. "

"It is not for love of your father or your brothers, nor yet hatred ofPeter of Colfax, nor neither for any reward whatsoever. It pleases me todo as I do, that is all. Come. "

He led her in silence to the courtyard and across the lowereddrawbridge, to where they soon discovered a group of horsemen, and inanswer to a low challenge from Shandy, Norman of Torn replied that itwas he. 

"Take a dozen men, Shandy, and search yon hellhole. Bring out to me, alive, Peter of Colfax, and My Lady's cloak and a palfrey--and Shandy, when all is done as I say, you may apply the torch! But no looting, Shandy. "

Shandy looked in surprise upon his leader, for the torch had never beena weapon of Norman of Torn, while loot, if not always the prime objectof his many raids, was at least a very important consideration. 

The outlaw noticed the surprised hesitation of his faithful subalternand signing him to listen, said:

"Red Shandy, Norman of Torn has fought and sacked and pillaged forthe love of it, and for a principle which was at best but a vaguegenerality. Tonight we ride to redress a wrong done to My Lady Bertradede Montfort, and that, Shandy, is a different matter. The torch, Shandy, from tower to scullery, but in the service of My Lady, no looting. "

"Yes, My Lord, " answered Shandy, and departed with his littledetachment. 

In a half hour he returned with a dozen prisoners, but no Peter ofColfax. 

"He has flown, My Lord, " the big fellow reported, and indeed it wastrue. Peter of Colfax had passed through the vaults beneath his castleand, by a long subterranean passage, had reached the quarters of somepriests without the lines of Norman of Torn. By this time, he wasseveral miles on his way to the coast and France; for he had recognizedthe swordsmanship of the outlaw, and did not care to remain in Englandand face the wrath of both Norman of Torn and Simon de Montfort. 

"He will return, " was the outlaw's only comment, when he had been fullyconvinced that the Baron had escaped. 

They watched until the castle had burst into flames in a dozen places, the prisoners huddled together in terror and apprehension, fullyexpecting a summary and horrible death. 

When Norman of Torn had assured himself that no human power could nowsave the doomed pile, he ordered that the march be taken up, and thewarriors filed down the roadway behind their leader and Bertrade deMontfort, leaving their erstwhile prisoners sorely puzzled but unharmedand free. 

As they looked back, they saw the heavens red with the great flamesthat sprang high above the lofty towers. Immense volumes of dense smokerolled southward across the sky line. Occasionally it would clear awayfrom the burning castle for an instant to show the black walls piercedby their hundreds of embrasures, each lit up by the red of the ragingfire within. It was a gorgeous, impressive spectacle, but one so commonin those fierce, wild days, that none thought it worthy of more than apassing backward glance. 

Varied emotions filled the breasts of the several riders who wendedtheir slow way down the mud-slippery road. Norman of Torn was bothelated and sad. Elated that he had been in time to save this girlwho awakened such strange emotions in his breast; sad that he was aloathesome thing in her eyes. But that it was pure happiness just to benear her, sufficed him for the time; of the morrow, what use to think!The little, grim, gray, old man of Torn nursed the spleen he did notdare vent openly, and cursed the chance that had sent Henry de Montfortto Torn to search for his sister; while the followers of the outlawswore quietly over the vagary which had brought them on this long ridewithout either fighting or loot. 

Bertrade de Montfort was but filled with wonder that she should owe herlife and honor to this fierce, wild cut-throat who had sworn especialhatred against her family, because of its relationship to the house ofPlantagenet. She could not fathom it, and yet, he seemed fair spokenfor so rough a man; she wondered what manner of countenance might liebeneath that barred visor. 

Once the outlaw took his cloak from its fastenings at his saddle'scantel and threw it about the shoulders of the girl, for the night airwas chilly, and again he dismounted and led her palfrey around a badplace in the road, lest the beast might slip and fall. 

She thanked him in her courtly manner for these services, but beyondthat, no word passed between them, and they came, in silence, aboutmidday within sight of the castle of Simon de Montfort. 

The watch upon the tower was thrown into confusion by the approach ofso large a party of armed men, so that, by the time they were in hailingdistance, the walls of the great structure were crowded with fightingmen. 

Shandy rode ahead with a flag of truce, and when he was beneath thecastle walls Simon de Montfort called forth:

"Who be ye and what your mission? Peace or war?"

"It is Norman of Torn, come in peace, and in the service of a DeMontfort, " replied Shandy. "He would enter with one companion, my LordEarl. "

"Dares Norman of Torn enter the castle of Simon de Montfort--thinks hethat I keep a robbers' roost!" cried the fierce old warrior. 

"Norman of Torn dares ride where he will in all England, " boasted thered giant. "Will you see him in peace, My Lord?"

"Let him enter, " said De Montfort, "but no knavery, now, we are athousand men here, well armed and ready fighters. "

Shandy returned to his master with the reply, and together, Norman ofTorn and Bertrade de Montfort clattered across the drawbridge beneaththe portcullis of the castle of the Earl of Leicester, brother-in-law ofHenry III of England. 

The girl was still wrapped in the great cloak of her protector, for ithad been raining, so that she rode beneath the eyes of her father's menwithout being recognized. In the courtyard, they were met by Simon deMontfort, and his sons Henry and Simon. 

The girl threw herself impetuously from her mount, and, flinging asidethe outlaw's cloak, rushed toward her astounded parent. 

"What means this, " cried De Montfort, "has the rascal offered you harmor indignity?"

"You craven liar, " cried Henry de Montfort, "but yesterday you sworeupon your honor that you did not hold my sister, and I, like a fool, believed. " And with his words, the young man flung himself upon Normanof Torn with drawn sword. 

Quicker than the eye could see, the sword of the visored knight flewfrom its scabbard, and, with a single lightning-like move, sent theblade of young De Montfort hurtling cross the courtyard; and then, before either could take another step, Bertrade de Montfort had sprungbetween them and placing a hand upon the breastplate of the outlaw, stretched forth the other with palm out-turned toward her kinsmen asthough to protect Norman of Torn from further assault. 

"Be he outlaw or devil, " she cried, "he is a brave and courteous knight, and he deserves from the hands of the De Montforts the best hospitalitythey can give, and not cold steel and insults. " Then she explainedbriefly to her astonished father and brothers what had befallen duringthe past few days. 

Henry de Montfort, with the fine chivalry that marked him, was the firstto step forward with outstretched hand to thank Norman of Torn, and toask his pardon for his rude words and hostile act. 

The outlaw but held up his open palm, as he said, "Let the De Montforts think well ere they take the hand of Norman ofTorn. I give not my hand except in friendship, and not for a passingmoment; but for life. I appreciate your present feelings of gratitude, but let them not blind you to the fact that I am still Norman the Devil, and that you have seen my mark upon the brows of your dead. I wouldgladly have your friendship, but I wish it for the man, Norman ofTorn, with all his faults, as well as what virtues you may think him topossess. "

"You are right, sir, " said the Earl, "you have our gratitude and ourthanks for the service you have rendered the house of Montfort, and everduring our lives you may command our favors. I admire your bravery andyour candor, but while you continue the Outlaw of Torn, you may notbreak bread at the table of De Montfort as a friend would have the rightto do. "

"Your speech is that of a wise and careful man, " said Norman of Tornquietly. "I go, but remember that from this day, I have no quarrel withthe House of Simon de Montfort, and that should you need my arms, theyare at your service, a thousand strong. Goodbye. " But as he turned togo, Bertrade de Montfort confronted him with outstretched hand. 

"You must take my hand in friendship, " she said, "for, to my dying day, I must ever bless the name of Norman of Torn because of the horror fromwhich he has rescued me. "

He took the little fingers in his mailed hand, and bending upon one kneeraised them to his lips. 

"To no other--woman, man, king, God, or devil--has Norman of Torn bentthe knee. If ever you need him, My Lady Bertrade, remember that hisservices are yours for the asking. "

And turning, he mounted and rode in silence from the courtyard ofthe castle of Leicester. Without a backward glance, and with his fivehundred men at his back, Norman of Torn disappeared beyond a turning inthe roadway. 

"A strange man, " said Simon de Montfort, "both good and bad, but fromtoday, I shall ever believe more good than bad. Would that he were otherthan he be, for his arm would wield a heavy sword against the enemies ofEngland, an he could be persuaded to our cause. "

"Who knows, " said Henry de Montfort, "but that an offer of friendshipmight have won him to a better life. It seemed that in his speech was anote of wistfulness. I wish, father, that we had taken his hand. "

CHAPTER XI

Several days after Norman of Torn's visit to the castle of Leicester, a young knight appeared before the Earl's gates demanding admittance tohave speech with Simon de Montfort. The Earl received him, and as theyoung man entered his presence, Simon de Montfort, sprang to his feet inastonishment. 

"My Lord Prince, " he cried. "What do ye here, and alone?"

The young man smiled. 

"I be no prince, My Lord, " he said, "though some have said that I favorthe King's son. I be Roger de Conde, whom it may have pleased yourgracious daughter to mention. I have come to pay homage to Bertrade deMontfort. "

"Ah, " said De Montfort, rising to greet the young knight cordially, "anyou be that Roger de Conde who rescued my daughter from the fellows ofPeter of Colfax, the arms of the De Montforts are open to you. 

"Bertrade has had your name upon her tongue many times since her return. She will be glad indeed to receive you, as is her father. She has toldus of your valiant espousal of her cause, and the thanks of her brothersand mother await you, Roger de Conde. 

"She also told us of your strange likeness to Prince Edward, but until Isaw you, I could not believe two men could be born of different mothersand yet be so identical. Come, we will seek out my daughter and hermother. "

De Montfort led the young man to a small chamber where they were greetedby Princess Eleanor, his wife, and by Bertrade de Montfort. The girl wasfrankly glad to see him once more and laughingly chide him because hehad allowed another to usurp his prerogative and rescue her from Peterof Colfax. 

"And to think, " she cried, "that it should have been Norman of Torn whofulfilled your duties for you. But he did not capture Sir Peter's head, my friend; that is still at large to be brought to me upon a goldendish. "

"I have not forgotten, Lady Bertrade, " said Roger de Conde. "Peter ofColfax will return. "

The girl glanced at him quickly. 

"The very words of the Outlaw of Torn, " she said. "How many men be ye, Roger de Conde? With raised visor, you could pass in the King's courtfor the King's son; and in manner, and form, and swordsmanship, and yourvisor lowered, you might easily be hanged for Norman of Torn. "

"And which would it please ye most that I be?" he laughed. 

"Neither, " she answered, "I be satisfied with my friend, Roger deConde. "

"So ye like not the Devil of Torn?" he asked. 

"He has done me a great service, and I be under monstrous obligationsto him, but he be, nathless, the Outlaw of Torn and I the daughter of anearl and a king's sister. "

"A most unbridgeable gulf indeed, " commented Roger de Conde, drily. "Noteven gratitude could lead a king's niece to receive Norman of Torn on afooting of equality. "

"He has my friendship, always, " said the girl, "but I doubt me if Normanof Torn be the man to impose upon it. "

"One can never tell, " said Roger de Conde, "what manner of fool a manmay be. When a man's head be filled with a pretty face, what room bethere for reason?"

"Soon thou wilt be a courtier, if thou keep long at this turning ofpretty compliments, " said the girl coldly; "and I like not courtiers, nor their empty, hypocritical chatter. "

The man laughed. 

"If I turned a compliment, I did not know it, " he said. "What I think, Isay. It may not be a courtly speech or it may. I know nothing of courtsand care less, but be it man or maid to whom I speak, I say what is inmy mind or I say nothing. I did not, in so many words, say that you arebeautiful, but I think it nevertheless, and ye cannot be angry withmy poor eyes if they deceive me into believing that no fairer womanbreathes the air of England. Nor can you chide my sinful brain that itgladly believes what mine eyes tell it. No, you may not be angry so longas I do not tell you all this. "

Bertrade de Montfort did not know how to answer so ridiculous asophistry; and, truth to tell, she was more than pleased to hear fromthe lips of Roger de Conde what bored her on the tongues of other men. 

De Conde was the guest of the Earl of Leicester for several days, andbefore his visit was terminated, the young man had so won his way intothe good graces of the family that they were loath to see him leave. 

Although denied the society of such as these throughout his entire life, yet it seemed that he fell as naturally into the ways of their kind asthough he had always been among them. His starved soul, groping throughthe darkness of the empty past, yearned toward the feasting and thelight of friendship, and urged him to turn his back upon the old life, and remain ever with these people, for Simon de Montfort had offered theyoung man a position of trust and honor in his retinue. 

"Why refused you the offer of my father?" said Bertrade to him as hewas come to bid her farewell. "Simon de Montfort is as great a man inEngland as the King himself, and your future were assured did you attachyour self to his person. But what am I saying! Did Roger de Conde notwish to be elsewhere, he had accepted and, as he did not accept, it isproof positive that he does not wish to bide among the De Montforts. "

"I would give my soul to the devil, " said Norman of Torn, "would it buyme the right to remain ever at the feet of Bertrade Montfort. "

He raised her hand to his lips in farewell as he started to speak, but something--was it an almost imperceptible pressure of her littlefingers, a quickening of her breath or a swaying of her body towardhim?--caused him to pause and raise his eyes to hers. 

For an instant they stood thus, the eyes of the man sinking deep intothe eyes of the maid, and then hers closed and with a little sigh thatwas half gasp, she swayed toward him, and the Devil of Torn folded theKing's niece in his mighty arms and his lips placed the seal of a greatlove upon those that were upturned to him. 

The touch of those pure lips brought the man to himself. 

"Ah, Bertrade, my Bertrade, " he cried, "what is this thing that I havedone! Forgive me, and let the greatness and the purity of my love foryou plead in extenuation of my act. "

She looked up into his face in surprise, and then placing her strongwhite hands upon his shoulders, she whispered:

"See, Roger, I am not angry. It is not wrong that we love; tell me it isnot, Roger. "

"You must not say that you love me, Bertrade. I am a coward, a cravenpoltroon; but, God, how I love you. "

"But, " said the girl, "I do love--"

"Stop, " he cried, "not yet, not yet. Do not say it till I come again. You know nothing of me, you do not know even who I be; but when next Icome, I promise that ye shall know as much of me as I myself know, andthen, Bertrade, my Bertrade, if you can then say, 'I love you' no poweron earth, or in heaven above, or hell below shall keep you from beingmine!"

"I will wait, Roger, for I believe in you and trust you. I do notunderstand, but I know that you must have some good reason, thoughit all seems very strange to me. If I, a De Montfort, am willing toacknowledge my love for any man, there can be no reason why I shouldnot do so, unless, " and she started at the sudden thought, wide-eyed andpaling, "unless there be another woman, a--a--wife?"

"There is no other woman, Bertrade, " said Norman of Torn. "I haveno wife; nor within the limits of my memory have my lips ever beforetouched the lips of another, for I do not remember my mother. "

She sighed a happy little sigh of relief, and laughing lightly, said:

"It is some old woman's bugaboo that you are haling out of a dark cornerof your imagination to frighten yourself with. I do not fear, since Iknow that you must be all good. There be no line of vice or deceptionupon your face and you are very brave. So brave and noble a man, Roger, has a heart of pure gold. "

"Don't, " he said, bitterly. "I cannot endure it. Wait until I come againand then, oh my flower of all England, if you have it in your heartto speak as you are speaking now, the sun of my happiness will be atzenith. Then, but not before, shall I speak to the Earl, thy father. Farewell, Bertrade, in a few days I return. "

"If you would speak to the Earl on such a subject, you insolent youngpuppy, you may save your breath, " thundered an angry voice, and Simon deMontfort strode, scowling, into the room. 

The girl paled, but not from fear of her father, for the fighting bloodof the De Montforts was as strong in her as in her sire. She facedhim with as brave and resolute a face as did the young man, who turnedslowly, fixing De Montfort with level gaze. 

"I heard enough of your words as I was passing through the corridor, "continued the latter, "to readily guess what had gone before. So itis for this that you have wormed your sneaking way into my home? Andthought you that Simon de Montfort would throw his daughter at the headof the first passing rogue? Who be ye, but a nameless rascal? For aughtwe know, some low born lackey. Get ye hence, and be only thankful that Ido not aid you with the toe of my boot where it would do the most good. "

"Stop!" cried the girl. "Stop, father, hast forgot that but for Rogerde Conde ye might have seen your daughter a corpse ere now, or, worse, herself befouled and dishonored?"

"I do not forget, " replied the Earl, "and it is because I remember thatmy sword remains in its scabbard. The fellow has been amply repaid bythe friendship of De Montfort, but now this act of perfidy has wipedclean the score. An' you would go in peace, sirrah, go quickly, ere Ilose my temper. "

"There has been some misunderstanding on your part, My Lord, " spokeNorman of Torn, quietly and without apparent anger or excitement. "Yourdaughter has not told me that she loves me, nor did I contemplate askingyou for her hand. When next I come, first shall I see her and if shewill have me, My Lord, I shall come to you to tell you that I shall wedher. Norm--Roger de Conde asks permission of no man to do what he woulddo. "

Simon de Montfort was fairly bursting with rage but he managed tocontrol himself to say, "My daughter weds whom I select, and even now I have practically closednegotiations for her betrothal to Prince Philip, nephew of King Louisof France. And as for you, sir, I would as lief see her the wife of theOutlaw of Torn. He, at least, has wealth and power, and a name that beknown outside his own armor. But enough of this; get you gone, nor letme see your face again within the walls of Leicester's castle. "

"You are right, My Lord, it were foolish and idle for us to bequarreling with words, " said the outlaw. "Farewell, My Lady. I shallreturn as I promised, and your word shall be law. " And with a profoundbow to De Montfort, Norman of Torn left the apartment, and in a fewminutes was riding through the courtyard of the castle toward the mainportals. 

As he passed beneath a window in the castle wall, a voice called tohim from above, and drawing in his horse, he looked up into the eyes ofBertrade de Montfort. 

"Take this, Roger de Conde, " she whispered, dropping a tiny parcel tohim, "and wear it ever, for my sake. We may never meet again, for theEarl my father, is a mighty man, not easily turned from his decisions;therefore I shall say to you, Roger de Conde, what you forbid my saying. I love you, and be ye prince or scullion, you may have me, if you canfind the means to take me. "

"Wait, my lady, until I return, then shall you decide, and if ye beof the same mind as today, never fear but that I shall take ye. Again, farewell. " And with a brave smile that hid a sad heart, Norman of Tornpassed out of the castle yard. 

When he undid the parcel which Bertrade had tossed to him, he found thatit contained a beautifully wrought ring set with a single opal. 

The Outlaw of Torn raised the little circlet to his lips, and thenslipped it upon the third finger of his left hand. 

CHAPTER XII

Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester "in a fewdays, " nor for many months. For news came to him that Bertrade deMontfort had been posted off to France in charge of her mother. 

From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attackson royalist barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until evenBerkshire and Surrey and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of theoutlaw. 

Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair formof Bertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heardno word from her. 

He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he hadparted from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had lefthis brain clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility ofhis hopes, and he had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean onlysuffering and mortification for the woman he loved. 

His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed fromthe subtle spell woven by the nearness and the newness of a first love, would doubtless be glad to forget the words she had spoken in theheat of a divine passion. He would wait, then, until fate threw themtogether, and should that ever chance, while she was still free, hewould let her know that Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were oneand the same. 

If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not. No it is impossible. It is better that she marry her French prince than to live, dishonored, the wife of a common highwayman; for though she might love me at first, the bitterness and loneliness of her life would turn her love to hate. 

As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of FatherClaude, the priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations;the unsettled state of civil conditions in the realm, and the standwhich Norman of Torn would take when open hostilities between King andbaron were declared. 

"It would seem that Henry, " said the priest, "by his continued breachesof both the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but urging thebarons to resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced PrinceEdward to take up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to carrythe ravages of war throughout the Welsh border provinces, convinces methat he be, by this time, well equipped to resist De Montfort and hisassociates. "

"If that be the case, " said Norman of Torn, "we shall have war andfighting in real earnest ere many months. "

"And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight?" askedFather Claude. 

"Under the black falcon's wing, " laughed he of Torn. 

"Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son, " said the priest, smiling. "Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman. With thy soldierlyqualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee inthe paths of honest men. Dost remember our past talk?"

"Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on't. I have one more dutyto perform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thysuggestion, but only on one condition. "

"What be that, my son?"

"That wheresoere I go, thou must go also. Thou be my best friend; intruth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little oldman of Torn, even though I be the product of his loins, which I muchmistrust, be no father to me. "

The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes beforehe spoke. 

Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of thewindows, listening to such fragments of the conversation within as cameto his attentive ears. It was Spizo, the Spaniard. He crouched entirelyconcealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before had hid histraitorous form. 

At length the priest spoke. 

"Norman of Torn, " he said, "so long as thou remain in England, pittingthy great host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and barons ofhis realm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another. Thyself hastsaid an hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy hatredagainst them. Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life uselesslyaway to satisfy the choler of another. 

"There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may Iguess and dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hopethat it be false or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for thequestion to be settled. Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I bean old man and versed in reading true between the lines, and so I knowthat thou lovest Bertrade de Montfort. Nay, do not deny it. And now, what I would say be this. In all England there lives no more honorableman than Simon de Montfort, nor none who could more truly decide uponthy future and thy past. Thou may not understand of what I hint, butthou know that thou may trust me, Norman of Torn. "

"Yea, even with my life and honor, my father, " replied the outlaw. 

"Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt comehither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by hisdecision should my surmises concerning thee be correct. He will be thebest judge of any in England, save two who must now remain nameless. "

"I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ridesouth. "

"It shall be by the third day, or not at all, " replied Father Claude, and Norman of Torn, rising to leave, wondered at the moving leaves ofthe lilac bush without the window, for there was no breeze. 

Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlawchief and had already poured his tale into the ears of the little, grim, gray, old man. 

As the priest's words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled inanger. 

"The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devotednear twenty years, " he muttered, "if I find not the means to quiet hishalf-wit tongue. Between priest and petticoat, it be all but ruined now. Well then, so much the sooner must I act, and I know not but that now beas good a time as any. If we come near enough to the King's men on thistrip south, the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet dog shalltaste the fruits of his own tyranny, " then glancing up and realizingthat Spizo, the Spaniard, had been a listener, the old man, scowling, cried:

"What said I, sirrah? What didst hear?"

"Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently, " replied theSpaniard. 

The old man eyed him closely. 

"An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, remember. "

"Yes, My Lord. "

An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage ofFather Claude and entered. 

"I am honored, " said the priest, rising. 

"Priest, " cried the old man, coming immediately to the point, "Normanof Torn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet here. Iknow not what thy purpose may be, but for the boy's sake, carry not outthy design as yet. I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best thatthis meeting take place after we return from the south. "

The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and sothe latter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest untillater. 

A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the headof his army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward Londontown. One thousand fighting men there were, with squires and otherservants, and five hundred sumpter beasts to transport their tents andother impedimenta, and bring back the loot. 

But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left toguard the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit. 

At the column's head rode Norman of Torn and the little grim, gray, old man; and behind them, nine companies of knights, followed by thecatapult detachment; then came the sumpter beasts. Horsan the Dane, withhis company, formed the rear guard. Three hundred yards in advance ofthe column rode ten men to guard against surprise and ambuscades. 

The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling ofsword, and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and earample assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon nopeaceful mission. 

All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn. Beside those whomwe have met, there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baronof Cobarth of Germany, and Sir John Mandecote of England. Like theirleader, each of these fierce warriors carried a great price upon hishead, and the story of the life of any one would fill a large volumewith romance, war, intrigue, treachery, bravery and death. 

Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, theycame upon a party of ten knights escorting two young women. The meetingwas at a turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each otherbefore the ten knights had an opportunity to escape with their fairwards. 

"What the devil be this, " cried one of the knights, as the main body ofthe outlaw horde came into view, "the King's army or one of his foreignlegions?"

"It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men, " replied the outlaw. 

The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a thousand, and there were two women with them. 

"Who be ye?" said the outlaw. 

"I am Richard de Tany of Essex, " said the oldest knight, he whohad first spoken, "and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary deStutevill. We are upon our way from London to my castle. What would youof us? Name your price, if it can be paid with honor, it shall be paid;only let us go our way in peace. We cannot hope to resist the Devil ofTorn, for we be but ten lances. If ye must have blood, at least let thewomen go unharmed. "

"My Lady Mary is an old friend, " said the outlaw. "I called at herfather's home but little more than a year since. We are neighbors, andthe lady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman ofTorn than they might be in the King's palace. "

"Right he is, " spoke up Lady Mary, "Norman of Torn accorded my mother, my sister, and myself the utmost respect; though I cannot say as muchfor his treatment of my father, " she added, half smiling. 

"I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany, " said Norman of Torn. "Ride on. "

The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castleof Richard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Rogerde Conde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without. 

In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and Normanof Torn trotted into the courtyard. 

He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tanywere waiting to receive him. Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an oldfriend, and the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in welcoming herfriend's friend to the hospitality of her father's castle. 

"Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex, " criedJoan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary. "Today it is Roger deConde, yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn. Methinks Derby will soon bedepopulated unless you return quickly to your home. "

"I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit fromRoger de Conde, " said Mary, smiling. "For I have heard tales, and Isee a great ring upon the gentleman's hand--a ring which I have seenbefore. "

Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, butasked bluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort. 

"Thrice within the year have I received missives from her, " repliedMary. "In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering whyhe did not come to France after her; but in the last she mentions nothis name, but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip. "

Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly, but no sign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon hisface. 

"I guess it be better so, " he said quietly. "The daughter of a DeMontfort could scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer, " he added, a little bitterly. 

"You wrong her, my friend, " said Mary de Stutevill. "She loved you and, unless I know not the friend of my childhood as well as I know myself, she loves you yet; but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and whatcan you expect when she hears no word from you for a year? Thoughtyou that she would seek you out and implore you to rescue her from thealliance her father has made for her?"

"You do not understand, " he answered, "and I may not tell you; but I askthat you believe me when I say that it was for her own peace of mind, for her own happiness, that I did not follow her to France. But, let ustalk of other things. The sorrow is mine and I would not force it uponothers. I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope, happy. Itwill never be given to me to make her or any other woman so. I wouldthat I had never come into her life, but I did not know what I wasdoing; and the spell of her beauty and goodness was strong upon me, sothat I was weak and could not resist what I had never known before inall my life--love. "

"You could not well be blamed, " said Joan de Tany, generously. "Bertradede Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a benedictionsimply to have known her. "

As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the firsttime, and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when shespoke, her face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions ofintelligence and character that cast a spell of fascination about her. Yes, Joan de Tany was good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carrieda wounded heart in his breast that longed for surcease from itssufferings--for a healing balm upon its hurts and bruises. 

And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was adaily visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintancebetween the man and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, andwith one of them, it threatened even more. 

Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw onlyfriendship in the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hardand lonely one. The only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that hadentered it had been his love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him. 

His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he knew was not for him, but he longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed thefriendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest. He did not dreamthat either looked upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweetfriendliness which was as new to him as love--how could he mark the linebetween or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance!

Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallowin matters of the heart--many there were, she knew, who were thus. Shemight have warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she letthings drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany. 

"Be careful of thy heart, Joan, " she said, "lest it be getting away fromthee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less quickly than heforgets. "

The daughter of De Tany flushed. 

"I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de Stutevill, "she replied warmly. "If thou covet this man thyself, why, but say so. Donot think though that, because thy heart glows in his presence, mine isequally susceptible. "

It was Mary's turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on hertongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel. Instead she put her arms about Joan and kissed her. 

"I do not love him, " she said, "and I be glad that you do not, forI know that Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he sworeundying love for her. Let us forget that we have spoken on the subject. "

It was at this time that the King's soldiers were harassing the lands ofthe rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their stingingdefeat at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safefor small parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into thehands of the mercenaries of Henry III. 

Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from theattacks of the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find themsuffering imprisonment, and something worse, at the hands of the King'ssupporters. 

And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan deTany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of themerchants. 

While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King'sparty, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city ofLondon was beset with many dangers. 

"Why, " cried the girl's mother in exasperation, "between robbers androyalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be safe if you had anarmy to escort you. "

"But then, as I have no army, " retorted the laughing girl, "if youreason by your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe. "

And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him withbeing afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that hemight remain at home and lock himself safely in her mother's pantry. 

And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the roadto London; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger deConde was of the party. 

At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from theoutlaw's camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orderswere to proceed to London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany, with Roger de Conde, enter the city, he was to deliver the letter hebore to the captain of the gate. 

The letter contained this brief message:

"The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn, " and wasunsigned. 

All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those whohad attempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered twoparties of armed men approaching from opposite directions. The leaderof the nearer party spurred forward to intercept the little band, and, reining in before them, cried brusquely, "Who be ye?"

"A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London, " replied Normanof Torn. 

"I asked not your mission, " cried the fellow. "I asked, who be ye?Answer, and be quick about it. "

"I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters andservants, " lied the outlaw, "and were it not that the ladies be with me, your answer would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your boorishinsolence. "

"There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a Frenchcoward, " cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke. 

Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of Rogerde Conde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she saw andunderstood the little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as heheard the man's challenge and lowered the point of his own spear. 

Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who weresome ninety feet apart, charged at full tilt. As they came together theimpact was so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the twopowerful war lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as eachstruck the exact center of his opponent's shield. Then, wheeling theirhorses and throwing away the butts of their now useless lances, De Condeand the officer advanced with drawn swords. 

The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attemptingto ride him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly fromthe tip of the outlaw's sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renewthe battle, they settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheelingand turning shoulder to shoulder. 

The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, theeyes of Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followedevery move of the wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde. 

He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grimand haughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many wordsthe utter contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary. And asJoan de Tany watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a cold, hardline, and the eyes of the man narrow to mere slits, and her woman'sintuition read the death warrant of the King's officer ere the sword ofthe outlaw buried itself in his heart. 

The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had satspellbound as they watched the battle, but now, as their leader's corpserolled from the saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and hislittle party. 

The Baron's men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and evenwith the mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome wasapparent from the first. 

Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal tothe thrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in theirsaddles as his leaping point found their vitals. 

Nearly all of the Baron's men were down, when one, an old servitor, spurred to the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill. 

"Come, my ladies, " he cried, "quick and you may escape. They be so busywith the battle that they will never notice. "

"Take the Lady Mary, John, " cried Joan, "I brought Roger de Conde tothis pass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the end. "

"But, My Lady--" cried John. 

"But nothing, sirrah!" she interrupted sharply. "Do as you are bid. Follow my Lady Mary, and see that she comes to my father's castle insafety, " and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary's palfrey acrossthe rump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he leapedfrantically to one side and started madly up the road down which theyhad come. 

"After her, John, " commanded Joan peremptorily, "and see that you turnnot back until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bringaid. "

The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan fromher earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that hewheeled his horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady Maryde Stutevill. 

As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fullytwenty men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavytoll of those before him, he could not cope with the men who attackedhim from behind; and even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall fullupon his helm, and his sword drop from his nerveless fingers as hislifeless body rolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the battle-trampedclay of the highroad. 

She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward hisprostrate form, reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling, steel-clad horses, and surging fighting-men that surrounded him. Andwell it was for Norman of Torn that this brave girl was there that day, for even as she reached his side, the sword point of one of the soldierswas at his throat for the coup de grace. 

With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw's body, shielding him as best she could from the threatening sword. 

Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag herfrom his prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped upand drew rein beside the party. 

The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome, black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most oftenseen upon the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor topositions of power and affluence. 

He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and foryears one of the King's favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfortand the barons. 

"What now?" he cried. "What goes on here?"

The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:

"A party of the King's enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we routedthem, taking these two prisoners. "

"Who be ye?" he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside DeConde, and as she raised her head, "My God! The daughter of De Tany! anoble prize indeed my men. And who be the knight?"

"Look for yourself, My Lord Earl, " replied the girl removing the helm, which she had been unlacing from the fallen man. 

"Edward?" he ejaculated. "But no, it cannot be, I did but yesterdayleave Edward in Dover. "

"I know not who he be, " said Joan de Tany, "except that he be the mostmarvelous fighter and the bravest man it has ever been given me to see. He called himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him other thanthat he looks like a prince, and fights like a devil. I think he has noquarrel with either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not makewar on women, you will let us go our way in peace as we were when yoursoldiers wantonly set upon us. "

"A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troubloustimes, " replied the Earl, "and that alone were enough to necessitate mykeeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and so Iwill grant you at least one favor. I will not take you to the King, buta prisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need thecheering company of a fair and loving lady. "

The girl's head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye. 

"Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking tosome comely scullery maid? Do you forget that my house is honoredin England, even though it does not share the King's favors with hisforeign favorites, and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany?"

"All be fair in war, my beauty, " replied the Earl. "Egad, " he continued, "methinks all would be fair in hell were they like unto you. It has beensome years since I have seen you and I did not know the old fox Richardde Tany kept such a package as this hid in his grimy old castle. "

"Then you refuse to release us?" said Joan de Tany. 

"Let us not put it thus harshly, " countered the Earl. "Rather let us saythat it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers thatthe Earl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the beautifuldaughter of his old friend to the perils of the road, and so--"

"Let us have an end to such foolishness, " cried the girl. "I might haveexpected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee, who once joined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed hisfriends to curry favor with the King. "

The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike thegirl, but thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers, saying:

"Bring the prisoner with you. If the man lives bring him also. I wouldlearn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crownprince. "

And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebelbaron which had been captured by the royalists, and was now used asheadquarters by De Fulm. 

CHAPTER XIII

When Norman of Torn regained his senses, he found himself in a smalltower room in a strange castle. His head ached horribly, and he feltsick and sore; but he managed to crawl from the cot on which he lay, andby steadying his swaying body with hands pressed against the wall, hewas able to reach the door. To his disappointment, he found this lockedfrom without and, in his weakened condition, he made no attempt to forceit. 

He was fully dressed and in armor, as he had been when struck down, buthis helmet was gone, as were also his sword and dagger. 

The day was drawing to a close and, as dusk fell and the room darkened, he became more and more impatient. Repeated pounding upon the doorbrought no response and finally he gave up in despair. Going tothe window, he saw that his room was some thirty feet above thestone-flagged courtyard, and also that it looked at an angle upon otherwindows in the old castle where lights were beginning to show. He sawmen-at-arms moving about, and once he thought he caught a glimpse of awoman's figure, but he was not sure. 

He wondered what had become of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill. Hehoped that they had escaped, and yet--no, Joan certainly had not, fornow he distinctly remembered that his eyes had met hers for an instantjust before the blow fell upon him, and he thought of the faith andconfidence that he had read in that quick glance. Such a look wouldnerve a jackal to attack a drove of lions, thought the outlaw. What abeautiful creature she was; and she had stayed there with him during thefight. He remembered now. Mary de Stutevill had not been with her as hehad caught that glimpse of her, no, she had been all alone. Ah! That wasfriendship indeed!

What else was it that tried to force its way above the threshold of hisbruised and wavering memory? Words? Words of love? And lips pressed tohis? No, it must be but a figment of his wounded brain. 

What was that which clicked against his breastplate? He felt, and founda metal bauble linked to a mesh of his steel armor by a strand of silkenhair. He carried the little thing to the window, and in the waning lightmade it out to be a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, buthe could not tell if the little strand of silken hair were black orbrown. Carefully he detached the little thing, and, winding the filmytress about it, placed it within the breast of his tunic. He was vaguelytroubled by it, yet why he could scarcely have told, himself. 

Again turning to the window, he watched the lighted rooms within hisvision, and presently his view was rewarded by the sight of a knightcoming within the scope of the narrow casement of a nearby chamber. 

From his apparel, he was a man of position, and he was evidently inheated discussion with some one whom Norman of Torn could not see. Theman, a great, tall black-haired and mustached nobleman, was poundingupon a table to emphasize his words, and presently he sprang upas though rushing toward the one to whom he had been speaking. Hedisappeared from the watcher's view for a moment and then, at the farside of the apartment, Norman of Torn saw him again just as he roughlygrasped the figure of a woman who evidently was attempting to escapehim. As she turned to face her tormentor, all the devil in the Devil ofTorn surged in his aching head, for the face he saw was that of Joan deTany. 

With a muttered oath, the imprisoned man turned to hurl himself againstthe bolted door, but ere he had taken a single step, the sound of heavyfeet without brought him to a stop, and the jingle of keys as one wasfitted to the lock of the door sent him gliding stealthily to the wallbeside the doorway, where the inswinging door would conceal him. 

As the door was pushed back, a flickering torch lighted up, but dimly, the interior, so that until he had reached the center of the room, thevisitor did not see that the cot was empty. 

He was a man-at-arms, and at his side hung a sword. That was enough forthe Devil of Torn--it was a sword he craved most; and, ere the fellowcould assure his slow wits that the cot was empty, steel fingers closedupon his throat, and he went down beneath the giant form of the outlaw. 

Without other sound than the scuffing of their bodies on the floor, andthe clanking of their armor, they fought, the one to reach the dagger athis side, the other to close forever the windpipe of his adversary. 

Presently, the man-at-arms found what he sought, and, after tuggingwith ever diminishing strength, he felt the blade slip from its sheath. Slowly and feebly he raised it high above the back of the man on top ofhim; with a last supreme effort he drove the point downward, but ere itreached its goal, there was a sharp snapping sound as of a broken bone, the dagger fell harmlessly from his dead hand, and his head rolledbackward upon his broken neck. 

Snatching the sword from the body of his dead antagonist, Norman of Tornrushed from the tower room. 

As John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, laid his vandal hands upon Joande Tany, she turned upon him like a tigress. Blow after blow she rainedupon his head and face until, in mortification and rage, he struck herfull upon the mouth with his clenched fist; but even this did not subdueher and, with ever weakening strength, she continued to strike him. Andthen the great royalist Earl, the chosen friend of the King, took thefair white throat between his great fingers, and the lust of bloodsupplanted the lust of love, for he would have killed her in his rage. 

It was upon this scene that the Outlaw of Torn burst with naked sword. They were at the far end of the apartment, and his cry of anger at thesight caused the Earl to drop his prey, and turn with drawn sword tomeet him. 

There were no words, for there was no need of words here. The two menwere upon each other, and fighting to the death, before the girl hadregained her feet. It would have been short shrift for John de Fulm hadnot some of his men heard the fracas, and rushed to his aid. 

Four of them there were, and they tumbled pell-mell into the room, fairly falling upon Norman of Torn in their anxiety to get their swordsinto him; but once they met that master hand, they went more slowly, andin a moment, two of them went no more at all, and the others, with theEarl, were but circling warily in search of a chance opening--an openingwhich never came. 

Norman of Torn stood with his back against a table in an angle of theroom, and behind him stood Joan de Tany. 

"Move toward the left, " she whispered. "I know this old pile. Whenyou reach the table that bears the lamp, there will be a small doorwaydirectly behind you. Strike the lamp out with your sword, as you feel myhand in your left, and then I will lead you through that doorway, whichyou must turn and quickly bolt after us. Do you understand?"

He nodded. 

Slowly he worked his way toward the table, the men-at-arms in themeantime keeping up an infernal howling for help. The Earl wascareful to keep out of reach of the point of De Conde's sword, and themen-at-arms were nothing loath to emulate their master's example. 

Just as he reached his goal, a dozen more men burst into the room, andemboldened by this reinforcement, one of the men engaging De Conde cametoo close. As he jerked his blade from the fellow's throat, Norman ofTorn felt a firm, warm hand slipped into his from behind, and his swordswung with a resounding blow against the lamp. 

As darkness enveloped the chamber, Joan de Tany led him throughthe little door, which he immediately closed and bolted as she hadinstructed. 

"This way, " she whispered, again slipping her hand into his and, insilence, she led him through several dim chambers, and finally stoppedbefore a blank wall in a great oak-panelled room. 

Here the girl felt with swift fingers the edge of the molding. Moreand more rapidly she moved as the sound of hurrying footsteps resoundedthrough the castle. 

"What is wrong?" asked Norman of Torn, noticing her increasingperturbation. 

"Mon Dieu!" she cried. "Can I be wrong! Surely this is the room. Oh, myfriend, that I should have brought you to all this by my willfulness andvanity; and now when I might save you, my wits leave me and I forget theway. "

"Do not worry about me, " laughed the Devil of Torn. "Methought that itwas I who was trying to save you, and may heaven forgive me else, for surely, that be my only excuse for running away from a handful ofswords. I could not take chances when thou wert at stake, Joan, " headded more gravely. 

The sound of pursuit was now quite close, in fact the reflection fromflickering torches could be seen in nearby chambers. 

At last the girl, with a little cry of "stupid, " seized De Conde andrushed him to the far side of the room. 

"Here it is, " she whispered joyously, "here it has been all the time. "Running her fingers along the molding until she found a little hiddenspring, she pushed it, and one of the great panels swung slowly in, revealing the yawning mouth of a black opening behind. 

Quickly the girl entered, pulling De Conde after her, and as the panelswung quietly into place, the Earl of Buckingham with a dozen menentered the apartment. 

"The devil take them, " cried De Fulm. "Where can they have gone? Surelywe were right behind them. "

"It is passing strange, My Lord, " replied one of the men. "Let us trythe floor above, and the towers; for of a surety they have not come thisway. " And the party retraced its steps, leaving the apartment empty. 

Behind the panel, the girl stood shrinking close to De Conde, her handstill in his. 

"Where now?" he asked. "Or do we stay hidden here like frightened chicksuntil the war is over and the Baron returns to let us out of this mustyhole?"

"Wait, " she answered, "until I quiet my nerves a little. I am allunstrung. " He felt her body tremble as it pressed against his. 

With the spirit of protection strong within him, what wonder that hisarm fell about her shoulder as though to say, fear not, for I be braveand powerful; naught can harm you while I am here. 

Presently she reached her hands up to his face, made brave to do it bythe sheltering darkness. 

"Roger, " she whispered, her tongue halting over the familiar name. "I thought that they had killed you, and all for me, for my foolishstubbornness. Canst forgive me?"

"Forgive?" he asked, smiling to himself. "Forgive being given anopportunity to fight? There be nothing to forgive, Joan, unless it bethat I should ask forgiveness for protecting thee so poorly. "

"Do not say that, " she commanded. "Never was such bravery or suchswordsmanship in all the world before; never such a man. "

He did not answer. His mind was a chaos of conflicting thoughts. Thefeel of her hands as they had lingered momentarily, and with a vaguecaress upon his cheek, and the pressure of her body as she leanedagainst him sent the hot blood coursing through his veins. He waspuzzled, for he had not dreamed that friendship was so sweet. That shedid not shrink from his encircling arms should have told him much, butNorman of Torn was slow to realize that a woman might look upon him withlove. Nor had he a thought of any other sentiment toward her than thatof friend and protector. 

And then there came to him as in a vision another fair and beautifulface--Bertrade de Montfort's--and Norman of Torn was still more puzzled;for at heart he was clean, and love of loyalty was strong within him. Love of women was a new thing to him, and, robbed as he had been all hisstarved life of the affection and kindly fellowship, of either men orwomen, it is little to be wondered at that he was easily impressionableand responsive to the feeling his strong personality had awakened in twoof England's fairest daughters. 

But with the vision of that other face, there came to him a faintrealization that mayhap it was a stronger power than either friendshipor fear which caused that lithe, warm body to cling so tightly to him. That the responsibility for the critical stage their young acquaintancehad so quickly reached was not his had never for a moment entered hishead. To him, the fault was all his; and perhaps it was this quality ofchivalry that was the finest of the many noble characteristics of hissterling character. So his next words were typical of the man; and didJoan de Tany love him, or did she not, she learned that night to respectand trust him as she respected and trusted few men of her acquaintance. 

"My Lady, " said Norman of Torn, "we have been through much, and we areas little children in a dark attic, and so if I have presumed upon ouracquaintance, " and he lowered his arm from about her shoulder, "I askyou to forgive it for I scarce know what to do, from weakness and fromthe pain of the blow upon my head. "

Joan de Tany drew slowly away from him, and without reply, took his handand led him forward through a dark, cold corridor. 

"We must go carefully now, " she said at last, "for there be stairsnear. "

He held her hand pressed very tightly in his, tighter perhaps thanconditions required, but she let it lie there as she led him forward, very slowly down a flight of rough stone steps. 

Norman of Torn wondered if she were angry with him and then, being newat love, he blundered. 

"Joan de Tany, " he said. 

"Yes, Roger de Conde; what would you?"

"You be silent, and I fear that you be angry with me. Tell me that youforgive what I have done, an it offended you. I have so few friends, " headded sadly, "that I cannot afford to lose such as you. "

"You will never lose the friendship of Joan de Tany, " she answered. "Youhave won her respect and--and--" But she could not say it and so shetrailed off lamely--"and undying gratitude. "

But Norman of Torn knew the word that she would have spoken had he daredto let her. He did not, for there was always the vision of Bertrade deMontfort before him; and now another vision arose that would effectuallyhave sealed his lips had not the other--he saw the Outlaw of Torndangling by his neck from a wooden gibbet. 

Before, he had only feared that Joan de Tany loved him, now he knew it, and while he marvelled that so wondrous a creature could feel love forhim, again he blamed himself, and felt sorrow for them both; for he didnot return her love nor could he imagine a love strong enough to survivethe knowledge that it was possessed by the Devil of Torn. 

Presently they reached the bottom of the stairway, and Joan de Tanyled him, gropingly, across what seemed, from their echoing footsteps, alarge chamber. The air was chill and dank, smelling of mold, and noray of light penetrated this subterranean vault, and no sound broke thestillness. 

"This be the castle's crypt, " whispered Joan; "and they do say thatstrange happenings occur here in the still watches of the night, andthat when the castle sleeps, the castle's dead rise from their coffinsand shake their dry bones. 

"Sh! What was that?" as a rustling noise broke upon their ears closeupon their right; and then there came a distinct moan, and Joan de Tanyfled to the refuge of Norman of Torn's arms. 

"There is nothing to fear, Joan, " reassured Norman of Torn. "Dead menwield not swords, nor do they move, or moan. The wind, I think, and ratsare our only companions here. "

"I am afraid, " she whispered. "If you can make a light, I am sureyou will find an old lamp here in the crypt, and then will it be lessfearsome. As a child I visited this castle often, and in search ofadventure, we passed through these corridors an hundred times, butalways by day and with lights. "

Norman of Torn did as she bid, and finding the lamp, lighted it. Thechamber was quite empty save for the coffins in their niches, and someeffigies in marble set at intervals about the walls. 

"Not such a fearsome place after all, " he said, laughing lightly. 

"No place would seem fearsome now, " she answered simply, "were there alight to show me that the brave face of Roger de Conde were by my side. "

"Hush, child, " replied the outlaw. "You know not what you say. When youknow me better, you will be sorry for your words, for Roger de Conde isnot what you think him. So say no more of praise until we be out of thishole, and you safe in your father's halls. "

The fright of the noises in the dark chamber had but served to againbring the girl's face close to his so that he felt her hot, sweet breathupon his cheek, and thus another link was forged to bind him to her. 

With the aid of the lamp, they made more rapid progress, and in a fewmoments, reached a low door at the end of the arched passageway. 

"This is the doorway which opens upon the ravine below the castle. Wehave passed beneath the walls and the moat. What may we do now, Roger, without horses?"

"Let us get out of this place, and as far away as possible under thecover of darkness, and I doubt not I may find a way to bring you to yourfather's castle, " replied Norman of Torn. 

Putting out the light, lest it should attract the notice of the watchupon the castle walls, Norman of Torn pushed open the little door andstepped forth into the fresh night air. 

The ravine was so overgrown with tangled vines and wildwood that, hadthere ever been a pathway, it was now completely obliterated; and itwas with difficulty that the man forced his way through the entanglingcreepers and tendrils. The girl stumbled after him and twice fell beforethey had taken a score of steps. 

"I fear I am not strong enough, " she said finally. "The way is much moredifficult than I had thought. "

So Norman of Torn lifted her in his strong arms, and stumbled onthrough the darkness and the shrubbery down the center of the ravine. Itrequired the better part of an hour to traverse the little distance tothe roadway; and all the time her head nestled upon his shoulder and herhair brushed his cheek. Once when she lifted her head to speak to him, he bent toward her, and in the darkness, by chance, his lips brushedhers. He felt her little form tremble in his arms, and a faint sighbreathed from her lips. 

They were upon the highroad now, but he did not put her down. A mistwas before his eyes, and he could have crushed her to him and smotheredthose warm lips with his own. Slowly, his face inclined toward hers, closer and closer his iron muscles pressed her to him, and then, clearcut and distinct before his eyes, he saw the corpse of the Outlaw ofTorn swinging by the neck from the arm of a wooden gibbet, and beside itknelt a woman gowned in rich cloth of gold and many jewels. Her facewas averted and her arms were outstretched toward the dangling form thatswung and twisted from the grim, gaunt arm. Her figure was racked withchoking sobs of horror-stricken grief. Presently she staggered to herfeet and turned away, burying her face in her hands; but he saw herfeatures for an instant then--the woman who openly and alone mourned thedead Outlaw of Torn was Bertrade de Montfort. 

Slowly his arms relaxed, and gently and reverently he lowered Joande Tany to the ground. In that instant Norman of Torn had learned thedifference between friendship and love, and love and passion. 

The moon was shining brightly upon them, and the girl turned, wide-eyedand wondering, toward him. She had felt the wild call of love and shecould not understand his seeming coldness now, for she had seen novision beyond a life of happiness within those strong arms. 

"Joan, " he said, "I would but now have wronged thee. Forgive me. Forgetwhat has passed between us until I can come to you in my rightfulcolors, when the spell of the moonlight and adventure be no longer uponus, and then, "--he paused--"and then I shall tell you who I be and youshall say if you still care to call me friend--no more than that shall Iask. "

He had not the heart to tell her that he loved only Bertrade deMontfort, but it had been a thousand times better had he done so. 

She was about to reply when a dozen armed men sprang from thesurrounding shadows, calling upon them to surrender. The moonlightfalling upon the leader revealed a great giant of a fellow with anenormous, bristling mustache--it was Shandy. 

Norman of Torn lowered his raised sword. 

"It is I, Shandy, " he said. "Keep a still tongue in thy head until Ispeak with thee apart. Wait here, My Lady Joan; these be friends. "

Drawing Shandy to one side, he learned that the faithful fellow hadbecome alarmed at his chief's continued absence, and had set out witha small party to search for him. They had come upon the riderless SirMortimer grazing by the roadside, and a short distance beyond, haddiscovered evidences of the conflict at the cross-roads. There they hadfound Norman of Torn's helmet, confirming their worst fears. A peasantin a nearby hut had told them of the encounter, and had set them uponthe road taken by the Earl and his prisoners. 

"And here we be, My Lord, " concluded the great fellow. 

"How many are you?" asked the outlaw. 

"Fifty, all told, with those who lie farther back in the bushes. "

"Give us horses, and let two of the men ride behind us, " said the chief. "And, Shandy, let not the lady know that she rides this night with theOutlaw of Torn. "

"Yes, My Lord. "

They were soon mounted, and clattering down the road, back toward thecastle of Richard de Tany. 

Joan de Tany looked in silent wonder upon this grim force that sprangout of the shadows of the night to do the bidding of Roger de Conde, agentleman of France. 

There was something familiar in the great bulk of Red Shandy; where hadshe seen that mighty frame before? And now she looked closely at thefigure of Roger de Conde. Yes, somewhere else had she seen these two mentogether; but where and when?

And then the strangeness of another incident came to her mind. Roger deConde spoke no English, and yet she had plainly heard English words uponthis man's lips as he addressed the red giant. 

Norman of Torn had recovered his helmet from one of his men who hadpicked it up at the crossroads, and now he rode in silence with loweredvisor, as was his custom. 

There was something sinister now in his appearance, and as the moonlighttouched the hard, cruel faces of the grim and silent men who rode behindhim, a little shudder crept over the frame of Joan de Tany. 

Shortly before daylight they reached the castle of Richard de Tany, anda great shout went up from the watch as Norman of Torn cried:

"Open! Open for My Lady Joan. "

Together they rode into the courtyard, where all was bustle andexcitement. A dozen voices asked a dozen questions only to cry out stillothers without waiting for replies. 

Richard de Tany with his family and Mary de Stutevill were still fullyclothed, having not lain down during the whole night. They fairly fellupon Joan and Roger de Conde in their joyous welcome and relief. 

"Come, come, " said the Baron, "let us go within. You must be fairfamished for good food and drink. "

"I will ride, My Lord, " replied Norman of Torn. "I have a little matterof business with my friend, the Earl of Buckingham. Business which Ifear will not wait. "

Joan de Tany looked on in silence. Nor did she urge him to remain, as heraised her hand to his lips in farewell. So Norman of Torn rode out ofthe courtyard; and as his men fell in behind him under the first rays ofthe drawing day, the daughter of De Tany watched them through the gate, and a great light broke upon her, for what she saw was the same as shehad seen a few days since when she had turned in her saddle to watchthe retreating forms of the cut-throats of Torn as they rode on afterhalting her father's party. 

CHAPTER XIV

Some hours later, fifty men followed Norman of Torn on foot through theravine below the castle where John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, had hisheadquarters; while nearly a thousand more lurked in the woods beforethe grim pile. 

Under cover of the tangled shrubbery, they crawled unseen to the littledoor through which Joan de Tany had led him the night before. Followingthe corridors and vaults beneath the castle, they came to the stonestairway, and mounted to the passage which led to the false panel thathad given the two fugitives egress. 

Slipping the spring lock, Norman of Torn entered the apartmentfollowed closely by his henchmen. On they went, through apartment afterapartment, but no sign of the Earl or his servitors rewarded theirsearch, and it was soon apparent that the castle was deserted. 

As they came forth into the courtyard, they descried an old man baskingin the sun, upon a bench. The sight of them nearly caused the old fellowto die of fright, for to see fifty armed men issue from the untenantedhalls was well reckoned to blanch even a braver cheek. 

When Norman of Torn questioned him, he learned that De Fulm had riddenout early in the day bound for Dover, where Prince Edward then was. Theoutlaw knew it would be futile to pursue him, but yet, so fierce was hisanger against this man, that he ordered his band to mount, and spurringto their head, he marched through Middlesex, and crossing the Thamesabove London, entered Surrey late the same afternoon. 

As they were going into camp that night in Kent, midway between Londonand Rochester, word came to Norman of Torn that the Earl of Buckingham, having sent his escort on to Dover, had stopped to visit the wife of aroyalist baron, whose husband was with Prince Edward's forces. 

The fellow who gave this information was a servant in my lady'shousehold who held a grudge against his mistress for some wrong she haddone him. When, therefore, he found that these grim men were searchingfor De Fulm, he saw a way to be revenged upon his mistress. 

"How many swords be there at the castle?" asked Norman of Torn. 

"Scarce a dozen, barring the Earl of Buckingham, " replied the knave;"and, furthermore, there be a way to enter, which I may show you, MyLord, so that you may, unseen, reach the apartment where My Lady and theEarl be supping. "

"Bring ten men, beside yourself, Shandy, " commanded Norman of Torn. "Weshall pay a little visit upon our amorous friend, My Lord, the Earl ofBuckingham. "

Half an hour's ride brought them within sight of the castle. Dismounting, and leaving their horses with one of the men, Norman ofTorn advanced on foot with Shandy and the eight others, close in thewake of the traitorous servant. 

The fellow led them to the rear of the castle, where, among the brush, he had hidden a rude ladder, which, when tilted, spanned the moat andrested its farther end upon a window ledge some ten feet above theground. 

"Keep the fellow here till last, Shandy, " said the outlaw, "till allbe in, an' if there be any signs of treachery, stick him through thegizzard--death thus be slower and more painful. "

So saying, Norman of Torn crept boldly across the improvised bridge, anddisappeared within the window beyond. One by one the band of cut-throatspassed through the little window, until all stood within the castlebeside their chief; Shandy coming last with the servant. 

"Lead me quietly, knave, to the room where My Lord sups, " said Normanof Torn. "You, Shandy, place your men where they can prevent my beinginterrupted. "

Following a moment or two after Shandy came another figure stealthilyacross the ladder and, as Norman of Torn and his followers left thelittle room, this figure pushed quietly through the window and followedthe great outlaw down the unlighted corridor. 

A moment later, My Lady of Leybourn looked up from her plate upon thegrim figure of an armored knight standing in the doorway of the greatdining hall. 

"My Lord Earl!" she cried. "Look! Behind you. "

And as the Earl of Buckingham glanced behind him, he overturned thebench upon which he sat in his effort to gain his feet; for My Lord Earlof Buckingham had a guilty conscience. 

The grim figure raised a restraining hand, as the Earl drew his sword. 

"A moment, My Lord, " said a low voice in perfect French. 

"Who are you?" cried the lady. 

"I be an old friend of My Lord, here; but let me tell you a littlestory. 

"In a grim old castle in Essex, only last night, a great lord of Englandheld by force the beautiful daughter of a noble house and, when shespurned his advances, he struck her with his clenched fist upon her fairface, and with his brute hands choked her. And in that castle also wasa despised and hunted outlaw, with a price upon his head, for whose neckthe hempen noose has been yawning these many years. And it was this vileperson who came in time to save the young woman from the noble flower ofknighthood that would have ruined her young life. 

"The outlaw wished to kill the knight, but many men-at-arms came to thenoble's rescue, and so the outlaw was forced to fly with the girl lesthe be overcome by numbers, and the girl thus fall again into the handsof her tormentor. 

"But this crude outlaw was not satisfied with merely rescuing the girl, he must needs mete out justice to her noble abductor and collect in fullthe toll of blood which alone can atone for the insult and violence doneher. 

"My Lady, the young girl was Joan de Tany; the noble was My Lord theEarl of Buckingham; and the outlaw stands before you to fulfill the dutyhe has sworn to do. En garde, My Lord!"

The encounter was short, for Norman of Torn had come to kill, and he hadbeen looking through a haze of blood for hours--in fact every time hehad thought of those brutal fingers upon the fair throat of Joan de Tanyand of the cruel blow that had fallen upon her face. 

He showed no mercy, but backed the Earl relentlessly into a cornerof the room, and when he had him there where he could escape in nodirection, he drove his blade so deep through his putrid heart that thepoint buried itself an inch in the oak panel beyond. 

Claudia Leybourn sat frozen with horror at the sight she was witnessing, and, as Norman of Torn wrenched his blade from the dead body before himand wiped it on the rushes of the floor, she gazed in awful fascinationwhile he drew his dagger and made a mark upon the forehead of the deadnobleman. 

"Outlaw or Devil, " said a stern voice behind them, "Roger Leybourn owesyou his friendship for saving the honor of his home. "

Both turned to discover a mail-clad figure standing in the doorway whereNorman of Torn had first appeared. 

"Roger!" shrieked Claudia Leybourn, and swooned. 

"Who be you?" continued the master of Leybourn addressing the outlaw. 

For answer Norman of Torn pointed to the forehead of the dead Earl ofBuckingham, and there Roger Leybourn saw, in letters of blood, NT. 

The Baron advanced with outstretched hand. 

"I owe you much. You have saved my poor, silly wife from this beast, and Joan de Tany is my cousin, so I am doubly beholden to you, Norman ofTorn. "

The outlaw pretended that he did not see the hand. 

"You owe me nothing, Sir Roger, that may not be paid by a good supper. Ihave eaten but once in forty-eight hours. "

The outlaw now called to Shandy and his men, telling them to remain onwatch, but to interfere with no one within the castle. 

He then sat at the table with Roger Leybourn and his lady, who hadrecovered from her swoon, and behind them on the rushes of the floor laythe body of De Fulm in a little pool of blood. 

Leybourn told them that he had heard that De Fulm was at his home, andhad hastened back; having been in hiding about the castle for half anhour before the arrival of Norman of Torn, awaiting an opportunity toenter unobserved by the servants. It was he who had followed across theladder after Shandy. 

The outlaw spent the night at the castle of Roger Leybourn; for thefirst time within his memory a welcomed guest under his true name at thehouse of a gentleman. 

The following morning, he bade his host goodbye, and returning to hiscamp started on his homeward march toward Torn. 

Near midday, as they were approaching the Thames near the environs ofLondon, they saw a great concourse of people hooting and jeering at asmall party of gentlemen and gentlewomen. 

Some of the crowd were armed, and from very force of numbers were waxingbrave to lay violent hands upon the party. Mud and rocks and rottenvegetables were being hurled at the little cavalcade, many of thembarely missing the women of the party. 

Norman of Torn waited to ask no questions, but spurring into the thickof it laid right and left of him with the flat of his sword, and hismen, catching the contagion of it, swarmed after him until the wholepack of attacking ruffians were driven into the Thames. 

And then, without a backward glance at the party he had rescued, hecontinued on his march toward the north. 

The little party sat upon their horses looking in wonder after theretreating figures of their deliverers. Then one of the ladies turnedto a knight at her side with a word of command and an imperious gesturetoward the fast disappearing company. He, thus addressed, put spurs tohis horse, and rode at a rapid gallop after the outlaw's troop. In a fewmoments he had overtaken them and reined up beside Norman of Torn. 

"Hold, Sir Knight, " cried the gentleman, "the Queen would thank you inperson for your brave defence of her. "

Ever keen to see the humor of a situation, Norman of Torn wheeled hishorse and rode back with the Queen's messenger. 

As he faced Her Majesty, the Outlaw of Torn bent low over his pommel. 

"You be a strange knight that thinks so lightly on saving a queen's lifethat you ride on without turning your head, as though you had but drivena pack of curs from annoying a stray cat, " said the Queen. 

"I drew in the service of a woman, Your Majesty, not in the service of aqueen. "

"What now! Wouldst even belittle the act which we all witnessed? TheKing, my husband, shall reward thee, Sir Knight, if you but tell me yourname. "

"If I told my name, methinks the King would be more apt to hang me, "laughed the outlaw. "I be Norman of Torn. "

The entire party looked with startled astonishment upon him, for none ofthem had ever seen this bold raider whom all the nobility and gentry ofEngland feared and hated. 

"For lesser acts than that which thou hast just performed, the Kinghas pardoned men before, " replied Her Majesty. "But raise your visor, I would look upon the face of so notorious a criminal who can yet be agentleman and a loyal protector of his queen. "

"They who have looked upon my face, other than my friends, " repliedNorman of Torn quietly, "have never lived to tell what they saw beneaththis visor, and as for you, Madame, I have learned within the year tofear it might mean unhappiness to you to see the visor of the Devil ofTorn lifted from his face. " Without another word he wheeled and gallopedback to his little army. 

"The puppy, the insolent puppy, " cried Eleanor of England, in a rage. 

And so the Outlaw of Torn and his mother met and parted after a periodof twenty years. 

Two days later, Norman of Torn directed Red Shandy to lead the forces ofTorn from their Essex camp back to Derby. The numerous raiding partieswhich had been constantly upon the road during the days they had spentin this rich district had loaded the extra sumpter beasts with richand valuable booty and the men, for the time satiated with fighting andloot, turned their faces toward Torn with evident satisfaction. 

The outlaw was speaking to his captains in council; at his side the oldman of Torn. 

"Ride by easy stages, Shandy, and I will overtake you by tomorrowmorning. I but ride for a moment to the castle of De Tany on an errand, and, as I shall stop there but a few moments, I shall surely join youtomorrow. "

"Do not forget, My Lord, " said Edwild the Serf, a great yellow-hairedSaxon giant, "that there be a party of the King's troops camped close bythe road which branches to Tany. "

"I shall give them plenty of room, " replied Norman of Torn. "My neckitcheth not to be stretched, " and he laughed and mounted. 

Five minutes after he had cantered down the road from camp, Spizo theSpaniard, sneaking his horse unseen into the surrounding forest, mountedand spurred rapidly after him. The camp, in the throes of packingrefractory, half broken sumpter animals, and saddling their own wildmounts, did not notice his departure. Only the little grim, gray, oldman knew that he had gone, or why, or whither. 

That afternoon, as Roger de Conde was admitted to the castle of Richardde Tany and escorted to a little room where he awaited the coming ofthe Lady Joan, a swarthy messenger handed a letter to the captain of theKing's soldiers camped a few miles south of Tany. 

The officer tore open the seal as the messenger turned and spurred backin the direction from which he had come. 

And this was what he read:

Norman of Torn is now at the castle of Tany, without escort. 

Instantly the call "to arms" and "mount" sounded through the camp and, in five minutes, a hundred mercenaries galloped rapidly toward thecastle of Richard de Tany, in the visions of their captain a greatreward and honor and preferment for the capture of the mighty outlaw whowas now almost within his clutches. 

Three roads meet at Tany; one from the south along which the King'ssoldiers were now riding; one from the west which had guided Normanof Torn from his camp to the castle; and a third which ran northwestthrough Cambridge and Huntingdon toward Derby. 

All unconscious of the rapidly approaching foes, Norman of Torn waitedcomposedly in the anteroom for Joan de Tany. 

Presently she entered, clothed in the clinging house garment of theperiod; a beautiful vision, made more beautiful by the suppressedexcitement which caused the blood to surge beneath the velvet of hercheek, and her breasts to rise and fall above her fast beating heart. 

She let him take her fingers in his and raise them to his lips, and thenthey stood looking into each other's eyes in silence for a long moment. 

"I do not know how to tell you what I have come to tell, " he said sadly. "I have not meant to deceive you to your harm, but the temptation to bewith you and those whom you typify must be my excuse. I--" He paused. It was easy to tell her that he was the Outlaw of Torn, but if she lovedhim, as he feared, how was he to tell her that he loved only Bertrade deMontfort?

"You need tell me nothing, " interrupted Joan de Tany. "I have guessedwhat you would tell me, Norman of Torn. 'The spell of moonlight andadventure is no longer upon us'--those are your own words, and still Iam glad to call you friend. "

The little emphasis she put upon the last word bespoke the finality ofher decision that the Outlaw of Torn could be no more than friend toher. 

"It is best, " he replied, relieved that, as he thought, she felt nolove for him now that she knew him for what he really was. "Nothing goodcould come to such as you, Joan, if the Devil of Torn could claim moreof you than friendship; and so I think that for your peace of mind andfor my own, we will let it be as though you had never known me. I thankyou that you have not been angry with me. Remember me only to think thatin the hills of Derby, a sword is at your service, without reward andwithout price. Should you ever need it, Joan, tell me that you will sendfor me--wilt promise me that, Joan?"

"I promise, Norman of Torn. "

"Farewell, " he said, and as he again kissed her hand he bent his kneeto the ground in reverence. Then he rose to go, pressing a little packetinto her palm. Their eyes met, and the man saw, in that brief instant, deep in the azure depths of the girl's that which tumbled the structureof his new-found complacency about his ears. 

As he rode out into the bright sunlight upon the road which lednorthwest toward Derby, Norman of Torn bowed his head in sorrow, for herealized two things. One was that the girl he had left still loved him, and that some day, mayhap tomorrow, she would suffer because she hadsent him away; and the other was that he did not love her, that hisheart was locked in the fair breast of Bertrade de Montfort. 

He felt himself a beast that he had allowed his loneliness and theaching sorrow of his starved, empty heart to lead him into this girl'slife. That he had been new to women and newer still to love did notpermit him to excuse himself, and a hundred times he cursed his follyand stupidity, and what he thought was fickleness. 

But the unhappy affair had taught him one thing for certain: to knowwithout question what love was, and that the memory of Bertrade deMontfort's lips would always be more to him than all the allurementspossessed by the balance of the women of the world, no matter howcharming, or how beautiful. 

Another thing, a painful thing he had learned from it, too, that theattitude of Joan de Tany, daughter of an old and noble house, was butthe attitude which the Outlaw of Torn must expect from any good womanof her class; what he must expect from Bertrade de Montfort when shelearned that Roger de Conde was Norman of Torn. 

The outlaw had scarce passed out of sight upon the road to Derby ere thegirl, who still stood in an embrasure of the south tower, gazing withstrangely drawn, sad face up the road which had swallowed him, saw abody of soldiers galloping rapidly toward Tany from the south. 

The King's banner waved above their heads, and intuitively, Joan de Tanyknew for whom they sought at her father's castle. Quickly she hastenedto the outer barbican that it might be she who answered their hailrather than one of the men-at-arms on watch there. 

She had scarcely reached the ramparts of the outer gate ere the King'smen drew rein before the castle. 

In reply to their hail, Joan de Tany asked their mission. 

"We seek the outlaw, Norman of Torn, who hides now within this castle, "replied the officer. 

"There be no outlaw here, " replied the girl, "but, if you wish, you mayenter with half a dozen men and search the castle. "

This the officer did and, when he had assured himself that Norman ofTorn was not within, an hour had passed, and Joan de Tany felt certainthat the Outlaw of Torn was too far ahead to be caught by the King'smen; so she said:

"There was one here just before you came who called himself though byanother name than Norman of Torn. Possibly it is he ye seek. "

"Which way rode he?" cried the officer. 

"Straight toward the west by the middle road, " lied Joan de Tany. And, as the officer hurried from the castle and, with his men at his back, galloped furiously away toward the west, the girl sank down upon abench, pressing her little hands to her throbbing temples. 

Then she opened the packet which Norman of Torn had handed her, andwithin found two others. In one of these was a beautiful jeweled locket, and on the outside were the initials JT, and on the inside the initialsNT; in the other was a golden hair ornament set with precious stones, and about it was wound a strand of her own silken tresses. 

She looked long at the little trinkets and then, pressing them againsther lips, she threw herself face down upon an oaken bench, her litheyoung form racked with sobs. 

She was indeed but a little girl chained by the inexorable bonds ofcaste to a false ideal. Birth and station spelled honor to her, andhonor, to the daughter of an English noble, was a mightier force eventhan love. 

That Norman of Torn was an outlaw she might have forgiven, but that hewas, according to report, a low fellow of no birth placed an impassablebarrier between them. 

For hours the girl lay sobbing upon the bench, whilst within her ragedthe mighty battle of the heart against the head. 

Thus her mother found her, and kneeling beside her, and with her armsabout the girl's neck, tried to soothe her and to learn the cause ofher sorrow. Finally it came, poured from the flood gates of a sorrowingheart; that wave of bitter misery and hopelessness which not even amother's love could check. 

"Joan, my dear daughter, " cried Lady de Tany, "I sorrow with thee thatthy love has been cast upon so bleak and impossible a shore. But it bebetter that thou hast learnt the truth ere it were too late; for, takemy word upon it, Joan, the bitter humiliation such an alliance mustneeds have brought upon thee and thy father's house would soon havecooled thy love; nor could his have survived the sneers and affrontseven the menials would have put upon him. "

"Oh, mother, but I love him so, " moaned the girl. "I did not know howmuch until he had gone, and the King's officer had come to search forhim, and then the thought that all the power of a great throne and themightiest houses of an entire kingdom were turned in hatred against himraised the hot blood of anger within me and the knowledge of my lovesurged through all my being. Mother, thou canst not know the honor, andthe bravery, and the chivalry of the man as I do. Not since Arthur ofSilures kept his round table hath ridden forth upon English soil so truea knight as Norman man of Torn. 

"Couldst thou but have seen him fight, my mother, and witnessed thehonor of his treatment of thy daughter, and heard the tone of dignifiedrespect in which he spoke of women thou wouldst have loved him, too, and felt that outlaw though he be, he is still more a gentleman thannine-tenths the nobles of England. "

"But his birth, my daughter!" argued the Lady de Tany. "Some even saythat the gall marks of his brass collar still showeth upon his neck, andothers that he knoweth not himself the name of his own father, nor hadhe any mother. "

Ah, but this was the mighty argument! Naught could the girl say tojustify so heinous a crime as low birth. What a man did in those roughcruel days might be forgotten and forgiven but the sins of his motheror his grandfather in not being of noble blood, no matter howsoeverwickedly attained, he might never overcome or live down. 

Torn by conflicting emotions, the poor girl dragged herself to her ownapartment and there upon a restless, sleepless couch, beset by wild, impossible hopes, and vain, torturing regrets, she fought out the long, bitter night; until toward morning she solved the problem of her miseryin the only way that seemed possible to her poor, tired, bleeding, little heart. When the rising sun shone through the narrow window, itfound Joan de Tany at peace with all about her; the carved golden hiltof the toy that had hung at her girdle protruded from her breast, and athin line of crimson ran across the snowy skin to a little pool upon thesheet beneath her. 

And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had reached out to crushanother innocent victim. 

CHAPTER XV

When word of the death of Joan de Tany reached Torn, no man couldtell from outward appearance the depth of the suffering which the sadintelligence wrought on the master of Torn. 

All that they who followed him knew was that certain unusual orders wereissued, and that that same night, the ten companies rode south towardEssex without other halt than for necessary food and water for man andbeast. 

When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her father's castle tothe church at Colchester, and again as it was brought back to its finalresting place in the castle's crypt, a thousand strange and silentknights, black draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly behindthe bier. 

Silently they had come in the night preceding the funeral, and assilently, they slipped away northward into the falling shadows of thefollowing night. 

No word had passed between those of the castle and the great troop ofsable-clad warriors, but all within knew that the mighty Outlaw of Tornhad come to pay homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany, and allbut the grieving mother wondered at the strangeness of the act. 

As the horde of Torn approached their Derby stronghold, their youngleader turned the command over to Red Shandy and dismounted at the doorof Father Claude's cottage. 

"I am tired, Father, " said the outlaw as he threw himself upon hisaccustomed bench. "Naught but sorrow and death follow in my footsteps. Iand all my acts be accurst, and upon those I love, the blight falleth. "

"Alter thy ways, my son; follow my advice ere it be too late. Seek outa new and better life in another country and carve thy future into thesemblance of glory and honor. "

"Would that I might, my friend, " answered Norman of Torn. "But hastthou thought on the consequences which surely would follow should I thusremove both heart and head from the thing that I have built?

"What suppose thou would result were Norman of Torn to turn his greatband of cut-throats, leaderless, upon England? Hast thought on't, Father?

"Wouldst thou draw a single breath in security if thou knew Edwild theSerf were ranging unchecked through Derby? Edwild, whose father was tornlimb from limb upon the rack because he would not confess to killing abuck in the new forest, a buck which fell before the arrow of anotherman; Edwild, whose mother was burned for witchcraft by Holy Church. 

"And Horsan the Dane, Father. How thinkest thou the safety of the roadswould be for either rich or poor an I turned Horsan the Dane loose uponye?

"And Pensilo, the Spanish Don! A great captain, but a man absolutelywithout bowels of compassion. When first he joined us and saw our markupon the foreheads of our dead, wishing to out-Herod Herod, he markedthe living which fell into his hands with a red hot iron, brandinga great P upon each cheek and burning out the right eye completely. Wouldst like to feel, Father, that Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo rangedfree through forest and hill of England?

"And Red Shandy, and the two Florys, and Peter the Hermit, and One EyeKanty, and Gropello, and Campanee, and Cobarth, and Mandecote, and thethousand others, each with a special hatred for some particular class orindividual, and all filled with the lust of blood and rapine and loot. 

"No, Father, I may not go yet, for the England I have been taught tohate, I have learned to love, and I have it not in my heart to turnloose upon her fair breast the beasts of hell who know no law or orderor decency other than that which I enforce. "

As Norman of Torn ceased speaking, the priest sat silent for manyminutes. 

"Thou hast indeed a grave responsibility, my son, " he said at last. "Thou canst not well go unless thou takest thy horde with thee out ofEngland, but even that may be possible; who knows other than God?"

"For my part, " laughed the outlaw, "I be willing to leave it in Hishands; which seems to be the way with Christians. When one would shirka responsibility, or explain an error, lo, one shoulders it upon theLord. "

"I fear, my son, " said the priest, "that what seed of reverence I haveattempted to plant within thy breast hath borne poor fruit. "

"That dependeth upon the viewpoint, Father; as I take not the Lord intopartnership in my successes it seemeth to me to be but of a mean andpoor spirit to saddle my sorrows and perplexities upon Him. I may bewrong, for I am ill-versed in religious matters, but my conception ofGod and scapegoat be not that they are synonymous. "

"Religion, my son, be a bootless subject for argument between friends, "replied the priest, "and further, there be that nearer my heart just nowwhich I would ask thee. I may offend, but thou know I do not mean to. The question I would ask, is, dost wholly trust the old man whom thoucall father?"

"I know of no treachery, " replied the outlaw, "which he hath everconceived against me. Why?"

"I ask because I have written to Simon de Montfort asking him to meetme and two others here upon an important matter. I have learned that heexpects to be at his Leicester castle, for a few days, within the week. He is to notify me when he will come and I shall then send for theeand the old man of Torn; but it were as well, my son, that thou donot mention this matter to thy father, nor let him know when thou comehither to the meeting that De Montfort is to be present. "

"As you say, Father, " replied Norman of Torn. "I do not make head nortail of thy wondrous intrigues, but that thou wish it done thus or so issufficient. I must be off to Torn now, so I bid thee farewell. "

Until the following Spring, Norman of Torn continued to occupy himselfwith occasional pillages against the royalists of the surroundingcounties, and his patrols so covered the public highways that it becamea matter of grievous import to the King's party, for no one was safe inthe district who even so much as sympathized with the King's cause, andmany were the dead foreheads that bore the grim mark of the Devil ofTorn. 

Though he had never formally espoused the cause of the barons, it nowseemed a matter of little doubt but that, in any crisis, his grislybanner would be found on their side. 

The long winter evenings within the castle of Torn were often spent inrough, wild carousals in the great hall where a thousand men might sitat table singing, fighting and drinking until the gray dawn stole inthrough the east windows, or Peter the Hermit, the fierce majordomo, tired of the din and racket, came stalking into the chamber with drawnsword and laid upon the revellers with the flat of it to enforce theauthority of his commands to disperse. 

Norman of Torn and the old man seldom joined in these wild orgies, butwhen minstrel, or troubadour, or storyteller wandered to his grim lair, the Outlaw of Torn would sit enjoying the break in the winter's dullmonotony to as late an hour as another; nor could any man of his greatfierce horde outdrink their chief when he cared to indulge in thepleasures of the wine cup. The only effect that liquor seemed to haveupon him was to increase his desire to fight, so that he was wont topick needless quarrels and to resort to his sword for the slightest, or for no provocation at all. So, for this reason, he drank but seldomsince he always regretted the things he did under the promptings of thatother self which only could assert its ego when reason was threatenedwith submersion. 

Often on these evenings, the company was entertained by stories from thewild, roving lives of its own members. Tales of adventure, love, warand death in every known corner of the world; and the ten captains told, each, his story of how he came to be of Torn; and thus, with fightingenough by day to keep them good humored, the winter passed, and springcame with the ever wondrous miracle of awakening life, with softzephyrs, warm rain, and sunny skies. 

Through all the winter, Father Claude had been expecting to hear fromSimon de Montfort, but not until now did he receive a message whichtold the good priest that his letter had missed the great baron andhad followed him around until he had but just received it. The messageclosed with these words:

"Any clew, however vague, which might lead nearer to a true knowledgeof the fate of Prince Richard, we shall most gladly receive and give ourbest attention. Therefore, if thou wilst find it convenient, we shallvisit thee, good father, on the fifth day from today. "

Spizo, the Spaniard, had seen De Montfort's man leave the note withFather Claude and he had seen the priest hide it under a great bowl onhis table, so that when the good father left his cottage, it was thematter of but a moment's work for Spizo to transfer the message from itshiding place to the breast of his tunic. The fellow could not read, buthe to whom he took the missive could, laboriously, decipher the Latin inwhich it was penned. 

The old man of Torn fairly trembled with suppressed rage as the fullpurport of this letter flashed upon him. It had been years since he hadheard aught of the search for the little lost prince of England, and nowthat the period of his silence was drawing to a close, now that more andmore often opportunities were opening up to him to wreak the last shredof his terrible vengeance, the very thought of being thwarted at thefinal moment staggered his comprehension. 

"On the fifth day, " he repeated. "That is the day on which we were toride south again. Well, we shall ride, and Simon de Montfort shall nottalk with thee, thou fool priest. "

That same spring evening in the year 1264, a messenger drew rein beforethe walls of Torn and, to the challenge of the watch, cried:

"A royal messenger from His Illustrious Majesty, Henry, by the grace ofGod, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke of Aquitaine, to Norman ofTorn, Open, in the name of the King!"

Norman of Torn directed that the King's messenger be admitted, and theknight was quickly ushered into the great hall of the castle. 

The outlaw presently entered in full armor, with visor lowered. 

The bearing of the King's officer was haughty and arrogant, as became aman of birth when dealing with a low born knave. 

"His Majesty has deigned to address you, sirrah, " he said, withdrawinga parchment from his breast. "And, as you doubtless cannot read, I willread the King's commands to you. "

"I can read, " replied Norman of Torn, "whatever the King can write. Unless it be, " he added, "that the King writes no better than he rules. "

The messenger scowled angrily, crying:

"It ill becomes such a low fellow to speak thus disrespectfully of ourgracious King. If he were less generous, he would have sent you a halterrather than this message which I bear. "

"A bridle for thy tongue, my friend, " replied Norman of Torn, "were inbetter taste than a halter for my neck. But come, let us see what theKing writes to his friend, the Outlaw of Torn. "

Taking the parchment from the messenger, Norman of Torn read:

Henry, by Grace of God, King of England, Lord of Ireland, Duke ofAquitaine; to Norman of Torn:

Since it has been called to our notice that you be harassing andplundering the persons and property of our faithful lieges!!!!!

We therefore, by virtue of the authority vested in us by Almighty God, do command that you cease these nefarious practices!!!!!

And further, through the gracious intercession of Her Majesty, QueenEleanor, we do offer you full pardon for all your past crimes!!!!!

Provided, you repair at once to the town of Lewes, with all the fightingmen, your followers, prepared to protect the security of our person, andwage war upon those enemies of England, Simon de Montfort, Gilbert deClare and their accomplices, who even now are collected to threaten andmenace our person and kingdom!!!!!

Or, otherwise, shall you suffer death, by hanging, for your longunpunished crimes. Witnessed myself, at Lewes, on May the third, in theforty-eighth year of our reign. 

HENRY, REX. 

"The closing paragraph be unfortunately worded, " said Norman of Torn, "for because of it shall the King's messenger eat the King's message, and thus take back in his belly the answer of Norman of Torn. " Andcrumpling the parchment in his hand, he advanced toward the royalemissary. 

The knight whipped out his sword, but the Devil of Torn was evenquicker, so that it seemed that the King's messenger had deliberatelyhurled his weapon across the room, so quickly did the outlaw disarm him. 

And then Norman of Torn took the man by the neck with one powerful handand, despite his struggles, and the beating of his mailed fists, benthim back upon the table, and there, forcing his teeth apart with thepoint of his sword, Norman of Torn rammed the King's message down theknight's throat; wax, parchment and all. 

It was a crestfallen gentleman who rode forth from the castle of Torn ahalf hour later and spurred rapidly--in his head a more civil tongue. 

When, two days later, he appeared before the King at Winchelsea andreported the outcome of his mission, Henry raged and stormed, swearingby all the saints in the calendar that Norman of Torn should hang forhis effrontery before the snow flew again. 

News of the fighting between the barons and the King's forces atRochester, Battel and elsewhere reached the ears of Norman of Torn a fewdays after the coming of the King's message, but at the same time cameother news which hastened his departure toward the south. This latterword was that Bertrade de Montfort and her mother, accompanied by PrincePhilip, had landed at Dover, and that upon the same boat had come Peterof Colfax back to England--the latter, doubtless reassured by the strongconviction, which held in the minds of all royalists at that time, ofthe certainty of victory for the royal arms in the impending conflictwith the rebel barons. 

Norman of Torn had determined that he would see Bertrade de Montfortonce again, and clear his conscience by a frank avowal of his identity. He knew what the result must be. His experience with Joan de Tany hadtaught him that. But the fine sense of chivalry which ever dominated allhis acts where the happiness or honor of women were concerned urged himto give himself over as a sacrifice upon the altar of a woman's pride, that it might be she who spurned and rejected; for, as it must appearnow, it had been he whose love had grown cold. It was a bitter thingto contemplate, for not alone would the mighty pride of the man belacerated, but a great love. 

Two days before the start of the march, Spizo, the Spaniard, reportedto the old man of Torn that he had overheard Father Claude ask Norman ofTorn to come with his father to the priest's cottage the morning of themarch to meet Simon de Montfort upon an important matter, but what thenature of the thing was the priest did not reveal to the outlaw. 

This report seemed to please the little, grim, gray old man more thanaught he had heard in several days; for it made it apparent that thepriest had not as yet divulged the tenor of his conjecture to the Outlawof Torn. 

On the evening of the day preceding that set for the march south, a little, wiry figure, grim and gray, entered the cottage of FatherClaude. No man knows what words passed between the good priest and hisvisitor nor the details of what befell within the four walls of thelittle cottage that night; but some half hour only elapsed before thelittle, grim, gray man emerged from the darkened interior and hastenedupward upon the rocky trail into the hills, a cold smile of satisfactionon his lips. 

The castle of Torn was filled with the rush and rattle of preparationearly the following morning, for by eight o'clock the column was tomarch. The courtyard was filled with hurrying squires and lackeys. Warhorses were being groomed and caparisoned; sumpter beasts, snubbed togreat posts, were being laden with the tents, bedding, and belongings ofthe men; while those already packed were wandering loose among the otheranimals and men. There was squealing, biting, kicking, and cursing asanimals fouled one another with their loads, or brushed against sometethered war horse. 

Squires were running hither and thither, or aiding their masters to donarmor, lacing helm to hauberk, tying the points of ailette, coude, androndel; buckling cuisse and jambe to thigh and leg. The open forges ofarmorer and smithy smoked and hissed, and the din of hammer on anvilrose above the thousand lesser noises of the castle courts, the shoutingof commands, the rattle of steel, the ringing of iron hoof on stoneflags, as these artificers hastened, sweating and cursing, through theeleventh hour repairs to armor, lance and sword, or to reset a shoe upona refractory, plunging beast. 

Finally the captains came, armored cap-a-pie, and with them somesemblance of order and quiet out of chaos and bedlam. First the sumpterbeasts, all loaded now, were driven, with a strong escort, to the downsbelow the castle and there held to await the column. Then, one by one, the companies were formed and marched out beneath fluttering pennon andwaving banner to the martial strains of bugle and trumpet. 

Last of all came the catapults, those great engines of destruction whichhurled two hundred pound boulders with mighty force against the walls ofbeleaguered castles. 

And after all had passed through the great gates, Norman of Torn and thelittle old man walked side by side from the castle building and mountedtheir chargers held by two squires in the center of the courtyard. 

Below, on the downs, the column was forming in marching order, and asthe two rode out to join it, the little old man turned to Norman ofTorn, saying, "I had almost forgot a message I have for you, my son. Father Claudesent word last evening that he had been called suddenly south, andthat some appointment you had with him must therefore be deferreduntil later. He said that you would understand. " The old man eyed hiscompanion narrowly through the eye slit in his helm. 

"'Tis passing strange, " said Norman of Torn but that was his onlycomment. And so they joined the column which moved slowly down towardthe valley and as they passed the cottage of Father Claude, Norman ofTorn saw that the door was closed and that there was no sign of lifeabout the place. A wave of melancholy passed over him, for the desertedaspect of the little flower-hedged cote seemed dismally prophetic of anear future without the beaming, jovial face of his friend and adviser. 

Scarcely had the horde of Torn passed out of sight down the east edge ofthe valley ere a party of richly dressed knights, coming from the southby another road along the west bank of the river, crossed over and drewrein before the cottage of Father Claude. 

As their hails were unanswered, one of the party dismounted to enter thebuilding. 

"Have a care, My Lord, " cried his companion. "This be over-close to theCastle Torn and there may easily be more treachery than truth in themessage which called thee thither. "

"Fear not, " replied Simon de Montfort, "the Devil of Torn hath noquarrel with me. " Striding up the little path, he knocked loudly on thedoor. Receiving no reply, he pushed it open and stepped into the dimlight of the interior. There he found his host, the good father Claude, stretched upon his back on the floor, the breast of his priestly robesdark with dried and clotted blood. 

Turning again to the door, De Montfort summoned a couple of hiscompanions. 

"The secret of the little lost prince of England be a dangerous burdenfor a man to carry, " he said. "But this convinces me more than any wordsthe priest might have uttered that the abductor be still in England, andpossibly Prince Richard also. "

A search of the cottage revealed the fact that it had been ransackedthoroughly by the assassin. The contents of drawer and box litteredevery room, though that the object was not rich plunder was evidenced bymany pieces of jewelry and money which remained untouched. 

"The true object lies here, " said De Montfort, pointing to the openhearth upon which lay the charred remains of many papers and documents. "All written evidence has been destroyed, but hold what lieth herebeneath the table?" and, stooping, the Earl of Leicester picked upa sheet of parchment on which a letter had been commenced. It wasaddressed to him, and he read it aloud:

Lest some unforeseen chance should prevent the accomplishment of ourmeeting, My Lord Earl, I send thee this by one who knoweth not eitherits contents or the suspicions which I will narrate herein. 

He who bareth this letter, I truly believe to be the lost PrinceRichard. Question him closely, My Lord, and I know that thou wilt be aspositive as I. 

Of his past, thou know nearly as much as I, though thou may not know thewondrous chivalry and true nobility of character of him men call!!!!!

Here the letter stopped, evidently cut short by the dagger of theassassin. 

"Mon Dieu! The damnable luck!" cried De Montfort, "but a second moreand the name we have sought for twenty years would have been writ. Didst ever see such hellish chance as plays into the hand of the fiendincarnate since that long gone day when his sword pierced the heart ofLady Maud by the postern gate beside the Thames? The Devil himself mustwatch o'er him. 

"There be naught more we can do here, " he continued. "I should have beenon my way to Fletching hours since. Come, my gentlemen, we will ridesouth by way of Leicester and have the good Fathers there look to thedecent burial of this holy man. "

The party mounted and rode rapidly away. Noon found them at Leicester, and three days later, they rode into the baronial camp at Fletching. 

At almost the same hour, the monks of the Abbey of Leicester performedthe last rites of Holy Church for the peace of the soul of Father Claudeand consigned his clay to the churchyard. 

And thus another innocent victim of an insatiable hate and vengeancewhich had been born in the King's armory twenty years before passed fromthe eyes of men. 

CHAPTER XVI

While Norman of Torn and his thousand fighting men marched slowly southon the road toward Dover, the army of Simon de Montfort was preparingfor its advance upon Lewes, where King Henry, with his son PrinceEdward, and his brother, Prince Richard, King of the Romans, togetherwith the latter's son, were entrenched with their forces, sixty thousandstrong. 

Before sunrise on a May morning in the year 1264, the barons' army setout from its camp at Fletching, nine miles from Lewes and, marchingthrough dense forests, reached a point two miles from the city, unobserved. 

From here, they ascended the great ridge of the hills up the valleyCombe, the projecting shoulder of the Downs covering their march fromthe town. The King's party, however, had no suspicion that an attack wasimminent and, in direct contrast to the methods of the baronial troops, had spent the preceding night in drunken revelry, so that they werequite taken by surprise. 

It is true that Henry had stationed an outpost upon the summit of thehill in advance of Lewes, but so lax was discipline in his army thatthe soldiers, growing tired of the duty, had abandoned the post towardmorning, and returned to town, leaving but a single man on watch. He, left alone, had promptly fallen asleep, and thus De Montfort's men foundand captured him within sight of the bell-tower of the Priory of Lewes, where the King and his royal allies lay peacefully asleep, after theirnight of wine and dancing and song. 

Had it not been for an incident which now befell, the baronial armywould doubtless have reached the city without being detected, but ithappened that, the evening before, Henry had ordered a foraging party toride forth at daybreak, as provisions for both men and beasts were low. 

This party had scarcely left the city behind them ere they fell into thehands of the baronial troops. Though some few were killed or captured, those who escaped were sufficient to arouse the sleeping army of theroyalists to the close proximity and gravity of their danger. 

By this time, the four divisions of De Montfort's army were in full viewof the town. On the left were the Londoners under Nicholas de Segrave;in the center rode De Clare, with John Fitz-John and William deMonchensy, at the head of a large division which occupied that branch ofthe hill which descended a gentle, unbroken slope to the town. The rightwing was commanded by Henry de Montfort, the oldest son of Simon deMontfort, and with him was the third son, Guy, as well as John deBurgh and Humphrey de Bohun. The reserves were under Simon de Montforthimself. 

Thus was the flower of English chivalry pitted against the King and hisparty, which included many nobles whose kinsmen were with De Montfort;so that brother faced brother, and father fought against son, on thatbloody Wednesday, before the old town of Lewes. 

Prince Edward was the first of the royal party to take the field and, ashe issued from the castle with his gallant company, banners andpennons streaming in the breeze and burnished armor and flashing bladescintillating in the morning sunlight, he made a gorgeous and impressivespectacle as he hurled himself upon the Londoners, whom he had selectedfor attack because of the affront they had put upon his mother that dayat London on the preceding July. 

So vicious was his onslaught that the poorly armed and unprotectedburghers, unused to the stern game of war, fell like sheep before theiron men on their iron shod horses. The long lances, the heavy maces, the six-bladed battle axes, and the well-tempered swords of the knightsplayed havoc among them, so that the rout was complete; but, not contentwith victory, Prince Edward must glut his vengeance, and so he pursuedthe citizens for miles, butchering great numbers of them, while manymore were drowned in attempting to escape across the Ouse. 

The left wing of the royalist army, under the King of the Romans and hisgallant son, was not so fortunate, for they met a determined resistanceat the hands of Henry de Montfort. 

The central divisions of the two armies seemed well matched also, andthus the battle continued throughout the day, the greatest advantageappearing to lie with the King's troops. Had Edward not gone so farafield in pursuit of the Londoners, the victory might easily have beenon the side of the royalists early in the day, but by thus eliminatinghis division after defeating a part of De Montfort's army, it was asthough neither of these two forces had been engaged. 

The wily Simon de Montfort had attempted a little ruse which centeredthe fighting for a time upon the crest of one of the hills. He hadcaused his car to be placed there, with the tents and luggage of many ofhis leaders, under a small guard, so that the banners there displayed, together with the car, led the King of the Romans to believe that theEarl himself lay there, for Simon de Montfort had but a month or sobefore suffered an injury to his hip when his horse fell with him, andthe royalists were not aware that he had recovered sufficiently to againmount a horse. 

And so it was that the forces under the King of the Romans pushed backthe men of Henry de Montfort, and ever and ever closer to the car camethe royalists until they were able to fall upon it, crying out insultsagainst the old Earl and commanding him to come forth. And when they hadkilled the occupants of the car, they found that Simon de Montfortwas not among them, but instead he had fastened there three importantcitizens of London, old men and influential, who had opposed him, andaided and abetted the King. 

So great was the wrath of Prince Richard, King of the Romans, thathe fell upon the baronial troops with renewed vigor, and slowly butsteadily beat them back from the town. 

This sight, together with the routing of the enemy's left wing by PrinceEdward, so cheered and inspired the royalists that the two remainingdivisions took up the attack with refreshed spirits so that, what amoment before had hung in the balance, now seemed an assured victory forKing Henry. 

Both De Montfort and the King had thrown themselves into the meleewith all their reserves. No longer was there semblance of organization. Division was inextricably bemingled with division; friend and foe formeda jumbled confusion of fighting, cursing chaos, over which whipped theangry pennons and banners of England's noblest houses. 

That the mass seemed moving ever away from Lewes indicated that theKing's arms were winning toward victory, and so it might have been hadnot a new element been infused into the battle; for now upon the brow ofthe hill to the north of them appeared a great horde of armored knights, and as they came into position where they could view the battle, theleader raised his sword on high, and, as one man, the thousand brokeinto a mad charge. 

Both De Montfort and the King ceased fighting as they gazed upon thisbody of fresh, well armored, well mounted reinforcements. Whom mightthey be? To which side owned they allegiance? And, then, as theblack falcon wing on the banners of the advancing horsemen becamedistinguishable, they saw that it was the Outlaw of Torn. 

Now he was close upon them, and had there been any doubt before, thewild battle cry which rang from a thousand fierce throats turned thehopes of the royalists cold within their breasts. 

"For De Montfort! For De Montfort!" and "Down with Henry!" rang loud andclear above the din of battle. 

Instantly the tide turned, and it was by only the barest chance thatthe King himself escaped capture, and regained the temporary safety ofLewes. 

The King of the Romans took refuge within an old mill, and here it wasthat Norman of Torn found him barricaded. When the door was broken down, the outlaw entered and dragged the monarch forth with his own hand tothe feet of De Montfort, and would have put him to death had not theEarl intervened. 

"I have yet to see my mark upon the forehead of a King, " said Norman ofTorn, "and the temptation be great; but, an you ask it, My Lord Earl, his life shall be yours to do with as you see fit. "

"You have fought well this day, Norman of Torn, " replied De Montfort. "Verily do I believe we owe our victory to you alone; so do not mar therecord of a noble deed by wanton acts of atrocity. "

"It is but what they had done to me, were I the prisoner instead, "retorted the outlaw. 

And Simon de Montfort could not answer that, for it was but the simpletruth. 

"How comes it, Norman of Torn, " asked De Montfort as they rode togethertoward Lewes, "that you threw the weight of your sword upon the side ofthe barons? Be it because you hate the King more?"

"I do not know that I hate either, My Lord Earl, " replied the outlaw. "Ihave been taught since birth to hate you all, but why I should hatewas never told me. Possibly it be but a bad habit that will yield to mymaturer years. 

"As for why I fought as I did today, " he continued, "it be because theheart of Lady Bertrade, your daughter, be upon your side. Had it beenwith the King, her uncle, Norman of Torn had fought otherwise thanhe has this day. So you see, My Lord Earl, you owe me no gratitude. Tomorrow I may be pillaging your friends as of yore. "

Simon de Montfort turned to look at him, but the blank wall of hislowered visor gave no sign of the thoughts that passed beneath. 

"You do much for a mere friendship, Norman of Torn, " said the Earlcoldly, "and I doubt me not but that my daughter has already forgot you. An English noblewoman, preparing to become a princess of France, doesnot have much thought to waste upon highwaymen. " His tone, as well ashis words were studiously arrogant and insulting, for it had stung thepride of this haughty noble to think that a low-born knave boasted thefriendship of his daughter. 

Norman of Torn made no reply, and could the Earl of Leicester have seenhis face, he had been surprised to note that instead of grim hatred andresentment, the features of the Outlaw of Torn were drawn in lines ofpain and sorrow; for he read in the attitude of the father what he mightexpect to receive at the hands of the daughter. 

CHAPTER XVII

When those of the royalists who had not deserted the King and fledprecipitately toward the coast had regained the castle and the Priory, the city was turned over to looting and rapine. In this, Norman of Tornand his men did not participate, but camped a little apart from the townuntil daybreak the following morning, when they started east, towardDover. 

They marched until late the following evening, passing some twenty milesout of their way to visit a certain royalist stronghold. The troopsstationed there had fled, having been appraised some few hours earlier, by fugitives, of the defeat of Henry's army at Lewes. 

Norman of Torn searched the castle for the one he sought, but, findingit entirely deserted, continued his eastward march. Some few milesfarther on, he overtook a party of deserting royalist soldiery, and fromthem he easily, by dint of threats, elicited the information he desired:the direction taken by the refugees from the deserted castle, theirnumber, and as close a description of the party as the soldiers couldgive. 

Again he was forced to change the direction of his march, thistime heading northward into Kent. It was dark before he reached hisdestination, and saw before him the familiar outlines of the castleof Roger de Leybourn. This time, the outlaw threw his fierce hordecompletely around the embattled pile before he advanced with a score ofsturdy ruffians to reconnoiter. 

Making sure that the drawbridge was raised, and that he could not hopefor stealthy entrance there, he crept silently to the rear of the greatbuilding and there, among the bushes, his men searched for the ladderthat Norman of Torn had seen the knavish servant of My Lady Claudiaunearth, that the outlaw might visit the Earl of Buckingham, unannounced. 

Presently they found it, and it was the work of but a moment to raiseit to the sill of the low window, so that soon the twenty stood besidetheir chief within the walls of Leybourn. 

Noiselessly, they moved through the halls and corridors of the castleuntil a maid, bearing a great pasty from the kitchen, turned a suddencorner and bumped full into the Outlaw of Torn. With a shriek that mighthave been heard at Lewes, she dropped the dish upon the stone floor and, turning, ran, still shrieking at the top of her lungs, straight for thegreat dining hall. 

So close behind her came the little band of outlaws that scarce had theguests arisen in consternation from the table at the shrill cries of thegirl than Norman of Torn burst through the great door with twenty drawnswords at his back. 

The hall was filled with knights and gentlewomen and house servants andmen-at-arms. Fifty swords flashed from fifty scabbards as the men of theparty saw the hostile appearance of their visitors, but before a blowcould be struck, Norman of Torn, grasping his sword in his right hand, raised his left aloft in a gesture for silence. 

"Hold!" he cried, and, turning directly to Roger de Leybourn, "I haveno quarrel with thee, My Lord, but again I come for a guest within thyhalls. Methinks thou hast as bad taste in whom thou entertains as didstthy fair lady. "

"Who be ye, that thus rudely breaks in upon the peace of my castle, andmakes bold to insult my guests?" demanded Roger de Leybourn. 

"Who be I! If you wait, you shall see my mark upon the forehead of yongrinning baboon, " replied the outlaw, pointing a mailed finger at onewho had been seated close to De Leybourn. 

All eyes turned in the direction that the rigid finger of the outlawindicated, and there indeed was a fearful apparition of a man. Withlivid face he stood, leaning for support against the table; his cravenknees wabbling beneath his fat carcass; while his lips were drawn apartagainst his yellow teeth in a horrid grimace of awful fear. 

"If you recognize me not, Sir Roger, " said Norman of Torn, drily, "it isevident that your honored guest hath a better memory. "

At last the fear-struck man found his tongue, and, though his eyes neverleft the menacing figure of the grim, iron-clad outlaw, he addressed themaster of Leybourn; shrieking in a high, awe-emasculated falsetto:

"Seize him! Kill him! Set your men upon him! Do you wish to live anothermoment, draw and defend yourselves for he be the Devil of Torn, andthere be a great price upon his head. 

"Oh, save me, save me! for he has come to kill me, " he ended in apitiful wail. 

The Devil of Torn! How that name froze the hearts of the assembledguests. 

The Devil of Torn! Slowly the men standing there at the board of SirRoger de Leybourn grasped the full purport of that awful name. 

Tense silence for a moment held the room in the stillness of asepulchre, and then a woman shrieked, and fell prone across the table. She had seen the mark of the Devil of Torn upon the dead brow of hermate. 

And then Roger de Leybourn spoke:

"Norman of Torn, but once before have you entered within the walls ofLeybourn, and then you did, in the service of another, a great servicefor the house of Leybourn; and you stayed the night, an honored guest. But a moment since, you said that you had no quarrel with me. Then whybe you here? Speak! Shall it be as a friend or an enemy that the masterof Leybourn greets Norman of Torn; shall it be with outstretched hand ornaked sword?"

"I come for this man, whom you may all see has good reason to fear me. And when I go, I take part of him with me. I be in a great hurry, so Iwould prefer to take my great and good friend, Peter of Colfax, withoutinterference; but, if you wish it otherwise; we be a score strong withinyour walls, and nigh a thousand lie without. What say you, My Lord?"

"Your grievance against Peter of Colfax must be a mighty one, that yousearch him out thus within a day's ride from the army of the King whohas placed a price upon your head, and from another army of men who beequally your enemies. "

"I would gladly go to hell after Peter of Colfax, " replied the outlaw. "What my grievance be matters not. Norman of Torn acts first andexplains afterward, if he cares to explain at all. Come forth, Peter ofColfax, and for once in your life, fight like a man, that you may saveyour friends here from the fate that has found you at last after twoyears of patient waiting. "

Slowly, the palsied limbs of the great coward bore him tottering to thecenter of the room, where gradually a little clear space had been made;the men of the party forming a circle, in the center of which stoodPeter of Colfax and Norman of Torn. 

"Give him a great draught of brandy, " said the outlaw, "or he will sinkdown and choke in the froth of his own terror. "

When they had forced a goblet of the fiery liquid upon him, Peter ofColfax regained his lost nerve enough so that he could raise his swordarm and defend himself and, as the fumes circulated through him, and theprimal instinct of self-preservation asserted itself, he put up a moreand more creditable fight, until those who watched thought that he mightindeed have a chance to vanquish the Outlaw of Torn. But they did notknow that Norman of Torn was but playing with his victim, that he mightmake the torture long, drawn out, and wreak as terrible a punishmentupon Peter of Colfax, before he killed him, as the Baron had visitedupon Bertrade de Montfort because she would not yield to his basedesires. 

The guests were craning their necks to follow every detail of thefascinating drama that was being enacted before them. 

"God, what a swordsman!" muttered one. 

"Never was such swordplay seen since the day the first sword wasdrawn from the first scabbard!" replied Roger de Leybourn. "Is it notmarvellous!"

Slowly but surely was Norman of Torn cutting Peter of Colfax to pieces;little by little, and with such fiendish care that, except for lossof blood, the man was in no way crippled; nor did the outlaw touchhis victim's face with his gleaming sword. That he was saving for thefulfillment of his design. 

And Peter of Colfax, cornered and fighting for his life, was nomarrowless antagonist, even against the Devil of Torn. Furiously hefought; in the extremity of his fear, rushing upon his executioner withfrenzied agony. Great beads of cold sweat stood upon his livid brow. 

And then the gleaming point of Norman of Torn flashed, lightning-like, in his victim's face, and above the right eye of Peter of Colfax was athin vertical cut from which the red blood had barely started to oozeere another swift move of that master sword hand placed a fellow toparallel the first. 

Five times did the razor point touch the forehead of Peter of Colfax, until the watchers saw there, upon the brow of the doomed man, the sealof death, in letters of blood--NT. 

It was the end. Peter of Colfax, cut to ribbons yet fighting like themaniac he had become, was as good as dead, for the mark of the Outlaw ofTorn was upon his brow. Now, shrieking and gibbering through his frothylips, his yellow fangs bared in a mad and horrid grin, he rushed fullupon Norman of Torn. There was a flash of the great sword as the outlawswung it to the full of his mighty strength through an arc that passedabove the shoulders of Peter of Colfax, and the grinning head rolledupon the floor, while the loathsome carcass, that had been a baron ofEngland, sunk in a disheveled heap among the rushes of the great hall ofthe castle of Leybourn. 

A little shudder passed through the wide-eyed guests. Some one brokeinto hysterical laughter, a woman sobbed, and then Norman of Torn, wiping his blade upon the rushes of the floor as he had done uponanother occasion in that same hall, spoke quietly to the master ofLeybourn. 

"I would borrow yon golden platter, My Lord. It shall be returned, or amightier one in its stead. "

Leybourn nodded his assent, and Norman of Torn turned, with a few wordsof instructions, to one of his men. 

The fellow gathered up the head of Peter of Colfax, and placed it uponthe golden platter. 

"I thank you, Sir Roger, for your hospitality, " said Norman of Torn, with a low bow which included the spellbound guests. "Adieu. " Thusfollowed by his men, one bearing the head of Peter of Colfax upon theplatter of gold, Norman of Torn passed quietly from the hall and fromthe castle. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Both horses and men were fairly exhausted from the gruelling strain ofmany days of marching and fighting, so Norman of Torn went into campthat night; nor did he again take up his march until the second morning, three days after the battle of Lewes. 

He bent his direction toward the north and Leicester's castle, where hehad reason to believe he would find a certain young woman, and though itgalled his sore heart to think upon the humiliation that lay waiting hiscoming, he could not do less than that which he felt his honor demanded. 

Beside him on the march rode the fierce red giant, Shandy, and the wiry, gray little man of Torn, whom the outlaw called father. 

In no way, save the gray hair and the parchment-surfaced skin, hadthe old fellow changed in all these years. Without bodily vices, andclinging ever to the open air and the exercise of the foil, he was stillyoung in muscle and endurance. 

For five years, he had not crossed foils with Norman of Torn, but heconstantly practiced with the best swordsmen of the wild horde, so thatit had become a subject often discussed among the men as to which of thetwo, father or son, was the greater swordsman. 

Always taciturn, the old fellow rode in his usual silence. Long sincehad Norman of Torn usurped by the force of his strong character andmasterful ways, the position of authority in the castle of Torn. The oldman simply rode and fought with the others when it pleased him; and hehad come on this trip because he felt that there was that impending forwhich he had waited over twenty years. 

Cold and hard, he looked with no love upon the man he still called "myson. " If he held any sentiment toward Norman of Torn, it was one ofpride which began and ended in the almost fiendish skill of his pupil'smighty sword arm. 

The little army had been marching for some hours when the advance guardhalted a party bound south upon a crossroad. There were some twenty orthirty men, mostly servants, and a half dozen richly garbed knights. 

As Norman of Torn drew rein beside them, he saw that the leader of theparty was a very handsome man of about his own age, and evidently aperson of distinction; a profitable prize, thought the outlaw. 

"Who are you, " said the gentleman, in French, "that stops a prince ofFrance upon the highroad as though he were an escaped criminal? Are youof the King's forces, or De Montfort's?"

"Be this Prince Philip of France?" asked Norman of Torn. 

"Yes, but who be you?"

"And be you riding to meet my Lady Bertrade de Montfort?" continued theoutlaw, ignoring the Prince's question. 

"Yes, an it be any of your affair, " replied Philip curtly. 

"It be, " said the Devil of Torn, "for I be a friend of My Lady Bertrade, and as the way be beset with dangers from disorganized bands of rovingsoldiery, it is unsafe for Monsieur le Prince to venture on with sosmall an escort. Therefore will the friend of Lady Bertrade de Montfortride with Monsieur le Prince to his destination that Monsieur may arrivethere safely. "

"It is kind of you, Sir Knight, a kindness that I will not forget. But, again, who is it that shows this solicitude for Philip of France?"

"Norman of Torn, they call me, " replied the outlaw. 

"Indeed!" cried Philip. "The great and bloody outlaw?" Upon his handsomeface there was no look of fear or repugnance. 

Norman of Torn laughed. 

"Monsieur le Prince thinks, mayhap, that he will make a bad name forhimself, " he said, "if he rides in such company?"

"My Lady Bertrade and her mother think you be less devil than saint, "said the Prince. "They have told me of how you saved the daughter of DeMontfort, and, ever since, I have been of a great desire to meet you, and to thank you. It had been my intention to ride to Torn for thatpurpose so soon as we reached Leicester, but the Earl changed all ourplans by his victory and only yesterday, on his orders, the PrincessEleanor, his wife, with the Lady Bertrade, rode to Battel, where Simonde Montfort and the King are to be today. The Queen also is therewith her retinue, so it be expected that, to show the good feeling andrenewed friendship existing between De Montfort and his King, there willbe gay scenes in the old fortress. But, " he added, after a pause, "darethe Outlaw of Torn ride within reach of the King who has placed a priceupon his head?"

"The price has been there since I was eighteen, " answered Norman ofTorn, "and yet my head be where it has always been. Can you blame meif I look with levity upon the King's price? It be not heavy enough toweigh me down; nor never has it held me from going where I listed in allEngland. I am freer than the King, My Lord, for the King be a prisonertoday. "

Together they rode toward Battel, and as they talked, Norman of Torngrew to like this brave and handsome gentleman. In his heart was norancor because of the coming marriage of the man to the woman he loved. 

If Bertrade de Montfort loved this handsome French prince, then Normanof Torn was his friend; for his love was a great love, above jealousy. It not only held her happiness above his own, but the happiness andwelfare of the man she loved, as well. 

It was dusk when they reached Battel and as Norman of Torn bid theprince adieu, for the horde was to make camp just without the city, hesaid:

"May I ask My Lord to carry a message to Lady Bertrade? It is inreference to a promise I made her two years since and which I now, forthe first time, be able to fulfill. "

"Certainly, my friend, " replied Philip. The outlaw, dismounting, calledupon one of his squires for parchment, and, by the light of a torch, wrote a message to Bertrade de Montfort. 

Half an hour later, a servant in the castle of Battel handed the missiveto the daughter of Leicester as she sat alone in her apartment. Openingit, she read:

To Lady Bertrade de Montfort, from her friend, Norman of Torn. 

Two years have passed since you took the hand of the Outlaw of Torn infriendship, and now he comes to sue for another favor. 

It is that he may have speech with you, alone, in the castle of Battelthis night. 

Though the name Norman of Torn be fraught with terror to others, I knowthat you do not fear him, for you must know the loyalty and friendshipwhich he bears you. 

My camp lies without the city's gates, and your messenger will have safeconduct whatever reply he bears to, Norman of Torn. 

Fear? Fear Norman of Torn? The girl smiled as she thought of that momentof terrible terror two years ago when she learned, in the castle ofPeter of Colfax, that she was alone with, and in the power of, the Devilof Torn. And then she recalled his little acts of thoughtful chivalry, nay, almost tenderness, on the long night ride to Leicester. 

What a strange contradiction of a man! She wondered if he would comewith lowered visor, for she was still curious to see the face that laybehind the cold, steel mask. She would ask him this night to let her seehis face, or would that be cruel? For, did they not say that it wasfrom the very ugliness of it that he kept his helm closed to hide therepulsive sight from the eyes of men!

As her thoughts wandered back to her brief meeting with him two yearsbefore, she wrote and dispatched her reply to Norman of Torn. 

In the great hall that night as the King's party sat at supper, Philipof France, addressing Henry, said:

"And who thinkest thou, My Lord King, rode by my side to Battel today, that I might not be set upon by knaves upon the highway?"

"Some of our good friends from Kent?" asked the King. 

"Nay, it was a man upon whose head Your Majesty has placed a price, Norman of Torn; and if all of your English highwaymen be as courteousand pleasant gentlemen as he, I shall ride always alone and unarmedthrough your realm that I may add to my list of pleasant acquaintances. "

"The Devil of Torn?" asked Henry, incredulously. "Some one be hoaxingyou. "

"Nay, Your Majesty, I think not, " replied Philip, "for he was indeed agrim and mighty man, and at his back rode as ferocious and awe-inspiringa pack as ever I beheld outside a prison; fully a thousand strong theyrode. They be camped not far without the city now. "

"My Lord, " said Henry, turning to Simon de Montfort, "be it not timethat England were rid of this devil's spawn and his hellish brood?Though I presume, " he added, a sarcastic sneer upon his lip, "that itmay prove embarrassing for My Lord Earl of Leicester to turn upon hiscompanion in arms. "

"I owe him nothing, " returned the Earl haughtily, "by his own word. "

"You owe him victory at Lewes, " snapped the King. "It were indeed asad commentary upon the sincerity of our loyalty-professing liegeswho turned their arms against our royal person, 'to save him from thetreachery of his false advisers, ' that they called upon a cutthroatoutlaw with a price upon his head to aid them in their 'righteouscause'. "

"My Lord King, " cried De Montfort, flushing with anger, "I called notupon this fellow, nor did I know he was within two hundred miles ofLewes until I saw him ride into the midst of the conflict that day. Neither did I know, until I heard his battle cry, whether he would fallupon baron or royalist. "

"If that be the truth, Leicester, " said the King, with a note ofskepticism which he made studiously apparent, "hang the dog. He be justwithout the city even now. "

"You be King of England, My Lord Henry. If you say that he shall behanged, hanged he shall be, " replied De Montfort. 

"A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remainsto catch him, Leicester, " said the King. 

"A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work, " replied De Montfort. 

"And not, " thought Philip of France, "if I know it, shall the braveOutlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow. "

In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of Torn paced back andforth waiting an answer to his message. 

Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the bivouac, for theoutlaw knew full well that he had put his head within the lion's jawwhen he had ridden thus boldly to the seat of English power. He had nofaith in the gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well what theKing would urge when he learned that the man who had sent his soldiersnaked back to London, who had forced his messenger to eat the King'smessage, and who had turned his victory to defeat at Lewes, was withinreach of the army of De Montfort. 

Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool, and so he did notrelish pitting his thousand upon an open plain against twenty thousandwithin a walled fortress. 

No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night and before dawn hisrough band would be far on the road toward Torn. The risk was great toenter the castle, filled as it was with his mighty enemies. But if hedied there, it would be in a good cause, thought he and, anyway, he hadset himself to do this duty which he dreaded so, and do it he would wereall the armies of the world camped within Battel. 

Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his sentries, whopresently appeared escorting a lackey. 

"A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort, " said the soldier. 

"Bring him hither, " commanded the outlaw. 

The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchmentsealed with scented wax wafers. 

"Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?" asked the outlaw. 

"I am to wait, My Lord, " replied the awestruck fellow, to whom theservice had been much the same had his mistress ordered him to Hell tobear a message to the Devil. 

Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and, breaking the seals, read the message from the woman he loved. It was short and simple. 

To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade de Montfort. 

Come with Giles. He has my instructions to lead thee secretly to where Ibe. 

Bertrade de Montfort. 

Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains squatted upon theground beside an object covered with a cloth. 

"Come, Flory, " he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles, "leadon. "

They fell in single file: first the lackey, Giles, then Norman of Tornand last the fellow whom he had addressed as Flory bearing the objectcovered with a cloth. But it was not Flory who brought up the rear. Flory lay dead in the shadow of a great oak within the camp; a thinwound below his left shoulder blade marked the spot where a keen daggerhad found its way to his heart, and in his place walked the little grim, gray, old man, bearing the object covered with a cloth. But none mightknow the difference, for the little man wore the armor of Flory, and hisvisor was drawn. 

And so they came to a small gate which let into the castle wall wherethe shadow of a great tower made the blackness of a black night doublyblack. Through many dim corridors, the lackey led them, and up windingstairways until presently he stopped before a low door. 

"Here, " he said, "My Lord, " and turning left them. 

Norman of Torn touched the panel with the mailed knuckles of his righthand, and a low voice from within whispered, "Enter. "

Silently, he strode into the apartment, a small antechamber off alarge hall. At one end was an open hearth upon which logs were burningbrightly, while a single lamp aided in diffusing a soft glow about theaustere chamber. In the center of the room was a table, and at the sidesseveral benches. 

Before the fire stood Bertrade de Montfort, and she was alone. 

"Place your burden upon this table, Flory, " said Norman of Torn. Andwhen it had been done: "You may go. Return to camp. "

He did not address Bertrade de Montfort until the door had closed behindthe little grim, gray man who wore the armor of the dead Flory andthen Norman of Torn advanced to the table and stood with his left handungauntleted, resting upon the table's edge. 

"My Lady Bertrade, " he said at last, "I have come to fulfill a promise. "

He spoke in French, and she started slightly at his voice. Before, Norman of Torn had always spoken in English. Where had she heard thatvoice! There were tones in it that haunted her. 

"What promise did Norman of Torn e'er make to Bertrade de Montfort?" sheasked. "I do not understand you, my friend. "

"Look, " he said. And as she approached the table he withdrew the clothwhich covered the object that the man had placed there. 

The girl started back with a little cry of terror, for there upon agolden platter was a man's head; horrid with the grin of death baringyellow fangs. 

"Dost recognize the thing?" asked the outlaw. And then she did; butstill she could not comprehend. At last, slowly, there came back to herthe idle, jesting promise of Roger de Conde to fetch the head of herenemy to the feet of his princess, upon a golden dish. 

But what had the Outlaw of Torn to do with that! It was all a sorepuzzle to her, and then she saw the bared left hand of the grim, visoredfigure of the Devil of Torn, where it rested upon the table beside thegrisly head of Peter of Colfax; and upon the third finger was the greatring she had tossed to Roger de Conde on that day, two years before. 

What strange freak was her brain playing her! It could not be, no it wasimpossible; then her glance fell again upon the head grinning there uponthe platter of gold, and upon the forehead of it she saw, in letters ofdried blood, that awful symbol of sudden death--NT!

Slowly her eyes returned to the ring upon the outlaw's hand, and thenup to his visored helm. A step she took toward him, one hand upon herbreast, the other stretched pointing toward his face, and she swayedslightly as might one who has just arisen from a great illness. 

"Your visor, " she whispered, "raise your visor. " And then, as though toherself: "It cannot be; it cannot be. "

Norman of Torn, though it tore the heart from him, did as she bid, andthere before her she saw the brave strong face of Roger de Conde. 

"Mon Dieu!" she cried, "Tell me it is but a cruel joke. "

"It be the cruel truth, My Lady Bertrade, " said Norman of Torn sadly. And, then, as she turned away from him, burying her face in her raisedarms, he came to her side, and, laying his hand upon her shoulder, saidsadly:

"And now you see, My Lady, why I did not follow you to France. My heartwent there with you, but I knew that naught but sorrow and humiliationcould come to one whom the Devil of Torn loved, if that love wasreturned; and so I waited until you might forget the words you hadspoken to Roger de Conde before I came to fulfill the promise that youshould know him in his true colors. 

"It is because I love you, Bertrade, that I have come this night. Godknows that it be no pleasant thing to see the loathing in your veryattitude, and to read the hate and revulsion that surges through yourheart, or to guess the hard, cold thoughts which fill your mind againstme because I allowed you to speak the words you once spoke, and to theDevil of Torn. 

"I make no excuse for my weakness. I ask no forgiveness for what I knowyou never can forgive. That, when you think of me, it will always bewith loathing and contempt is the best that I can hope. 

"I only know that I love you, Bertrade; I only know that I love you, andwith a love that surpasseth even my own understanding. 

"Here is the ring that you gave in token of friendship. Take it. Thehand that wore it has done no wrong by the light that has been given itas guide. 

"The blood that has pulsed through the finger that it circled came froma heart that beat for Bertrade de Montfort; a heart that shall continueto beat for her alone until a merciful providence sees fit to gather ina wasted and useless life. 

"Farewell, Bertrade. " Kneeling he raised the hem of her garment to hislips. 

A thousand conflicting emotions surged through the heart of this prouddaughter of the new conqueror of England. The anger of an outragedconfidence, gratitude for the chivalry which twice had saved her honor, hatred for the murderer of a hundred friends and kinsmen, respect andhonor for the marvellous courage of the man, loathing and contempt forthe base born, the memory of that exalted moment when those handsomelips had clung to hers, pride in the fearlessness of a champion whodared come alone among twenty thousand enemies for the sake of a promisemade her; but stronger than all the rest, two stood out before hermind's eye like living things--the degradation of his low birth, andthe memory of the great love she had cherished all these long and drearymonths. 

And these two fought out their battle in the girl's breast. In those fewbrief moments of bewilderment and indecision, it seemed to Bertrade deMontfort that ten years passed above her head, and when she reached herfinal resolution she was no longer a young girl but a grown woman who, with the weight of a mature deliberation, had chosen the path which shewould travel to the end--to the final goal, however sweet or howeverbitter. 

Slowly she turned toward him who knelt with bowed head at her feet, and, taking the hand that held the ring outstretched toward her, raised himto his feet. In silence she replaced the golden band upon his finger, and then she lifted her eyes to his. 

"Keep the ring, Norman of Torn, " she said. "The friendship of Bertradede Montfort is not lightly given nor lightly taken away, " she hesitated, "nor is her love. "

"What do you mean?" he whispered. For in her eyes was that wondrouslight he had seen there on that other day in the far castle ofLeicester. 

"I mean, " she answered, "that, Roger de Conde or Norman of Torn, gentleman or highwayman, it be all the same to Bertrade de Montfort--itbe thee I love; thee!"

Had she reviled him, spat upon him, he would not have been surprised, for he had expected the worst; but that she should love him! Oh God, hadhis overwrought nerves turned his poor head? Was he dreaming this thing, only to awaken to the cold and awful truth!

But these warm arms about his neck, the sweet perfume of the breath thatfanned his cheek; these were no dream!

"Think thee what thou art saying, Bertrade?" he cried. "Dost forget thatI be a low-born knave, knowing not my own mother and questioning eventhe identity of my father? Could a De Montfort face the world with sucha man for husband?"

"I know what I say, perfectly, " she answered. "Were thou born out ofwedlock, the son of a hostler and a scullery maid, still would I lovethee, and honor thee, and cleave to thee. Where thou be, Norman of Torn, there shall be happiness for me. Thy friends shall be my friends; thyjoys shall be my joys; thy sorrows, my sorrows; and thy enemies, evenmine own father, shall be my enemies. 

"Why it is, my Norman, I know not. Only do I know that I didst oftenquestion my own self if in truth I did really love Roger de Conde, butthee--oh Norman, why is it that there be no shred of doubt now, thatthis heart, this soul, this body be all and always for the Outlaw ofTorn?"

"I do not know, " he said simply and gravely. "So wonderful a thing bebeyond my poor brain; but I think my heart knows, for in very joy, itis sending the hot blood racing and surging through my being till I werelike to be consumed for the very heat of my happiness. "

"Sh!" she whispered, suddenly, "methinks I hear footsteps. They must notfind thee here, Norman of Torn, for the King has only this night wrunga promise from my father to take thee in the morning and hang thee. Whatshall we do, Norman? Where shall we meet again?"

"We shall not be separated, Bertrade; only so long as it may take theeto gather a few trinkets, and fetch thy riding cloak. Thou ridest northtonight with Norman of Torn, and by the third day, Father Claude shallmake us one. "

"I am glad thee wish it, " she replied. "I feared that, for some reason, thee might not think it best for me to go with thee now. Wait here, Iwill be gone but a moment. If the footsteps I hear approach this door, "and she indicated the door by which he had entered the little room, "thou canst step through this other doorway into the adjoiningapartment, and conceal thyself there until the danger passes. "

Norman of Torn made a wry face, for he had no stomach for hiding himselfaway from danger. 

"For my sake, " she pleaded. So he promised to do as she bid, and she ranswiftly from the room to fetch her belongings. 

CHAPTER XIX

When the little, grim, gray man had set the object covered with a clothupon the table in the center of the room and left the apartment, he didnot return to camp as Norman of Torn had ordered. 

Instead, he halted immediately without the little door, which he left atrifle ajar, and there he waited, listening to all that passed betweenBertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn. 

As he heard the proud daughter of Simon de Montfort declare her love forthe Devil of Torn, a cruel smile curled his lip. 

"It will be better than I had hoped, " he muttered, "and easier. 'S blood!How much easier now that Leicester, too, may have his whole proud heartin the hanging of Norman of Torn. Ah, what a sublime revenge! I havewaited long, thou cur of a King, to return the blow thou struckthat day, but the return shall be an hundred-fold increased by longaccumulated interest. "

Quickly, the wiry figure hastened through the passageways and corridors, until he came to the great hall where sat De Montfort and the King, withPhilip of France and many others, gentlemen and nobles. 

Before the guard at the door could halt him, he had broken into the roomand, addressing the King, cried:

"Wouldst take the Devil of Torn, My Lord King? He be now alone where afew men may seize him. "

"What now! What now!" ejaculated Henry. "What madman be this?"

"I be no madman, Your Majesty. Never did brain work more clearly or tomore certain ends, " replied the man. 

"It may doubtless be some ruse of the cut-throat himself, " cried DeMontfort. 

"Where be the knave?" asked Henry. 

"He stands now within this palace and in his arms be Bertrade, daughterof My Lord Earl of Leicester. Even now she did but tell him that sheloved him. "

"Hold, " cried De Montfort. "Hold fast thy foul tongue. What meanest thouby uttering such lies, and to my very face?"

"They be no lies, Simon de Montfort. An I tell thee that Roger de Condeand Norman of Torn be one and the same, thou wilt know that I speak nolie. "

De Montfort paled. 

"Where be the craven wretch?" he demanded. 

"Come, " said the little, old man. And turning, he led from the hall, closely followed by De Montfort, the King, Prince Philip and the others. 

"Thou hadst better bring twenty fighting men--thou'lt need them all totake Norman of Torn, " he advised De Montfort. And so as they passed theguard room, the party was increased by twenty men-at-arms. 

Scarcely had Bertrade de Montfort left him ere Norman of Torn heard thetramping of many feet. They seemed approaching up the dim corridor thatled to the little door of the apartment where he stood. 

Quickly, he moved to the opposite door and, standing with his hand uponthe latch, waited. Yes, they were coming that way, many of them andquickly and, as he heard them pause without, he drew aside the arras andpushed open the door behind him; backing into the other apartment justas Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, burst into the room from theopposite side. 

At the same instant, a scream rang out behind Norman of Torn, and, turning, he faced a brightly lighted room in which sat Eleanor, Queenof England and another Eleanor, wife of Simon de Montfort, with theirladies. 

There was no hiding now, and no escape; for run he would not, even hadthere been where to run. Slowly, he backed away from the door toward acorner where, with his back against a wall and a table at his right, he might die as he had lived, fighting; for Norman of Torn knew that hecould hope for no quarter from the men who had him cornered there like agreat bear in a trap. 

With an army at their call, it were an easy thing to take a lone man, even though that man were the Devil of Torn. 

The King and De Montfort had now crossed the smaller apartment and werewithin the room where the outlaw stood at bay. 

At the far side, the group of royal and noble women stood huddledtogether, while behind De Montfort and the King pushed twenty gentlemenand as many men-at-arms. 

"What dost thou here, Norman of Torn?" cried De Montfort, angrily. "Where be my daughter, Bertrade?"

"I be here, My Lord Earl, to attend to mine own affairs, " replied Normanof Torn, "which be the affair of no other man. As to your daughter: Iknow nothing of her whereabouts. What should she have to do with theDevil of Torn, My Lord?"

De Montfort turned toward the little gray man. 

"He lies, " shouted he. "Her kisses be yet wet upon his lips. "

Norman of Torn looked at the speaker and, beneath the visor that was nowpartly raised, he saw the features of the man whom, for twenty years, hehad called father. 

He had never expected love from this hard old man, but treachery andharm from him? No, he could not believe it. One of them must have gonemad. But why Flory's armor and where was the faithful Flory?

"Father!" he ejaculated, "leadest thou the hated English King againstthine own son?"

"Thou be no son of mine, Norman of Torn, " retorted the old man. "Thydays of usefulness to me be past. Tonight thou serve me best swingingfrom a wooden gibbet. Take him, My Lord Earl; they say there be a goodstrong gibbet in the courtyard below. "

"Wilt surrender, Norman of Torn?" cried De Montfort. 

"Yes, " was the reply, "when this floor be ankle deep in English bloodand my heart has ceased to beat, then will I surrender. "

"Come, come, " cried the King. "Let your men take the dog, De Montfort!"

"Have at him, then, " ordered the Earl, turning toward the waitingmen-at-arms, none of whom seemed overly anxious to advance upon thedoomed outlaw. 

But an officer of the guard set them the example, and so they pushedforward in a body toward Norman of Torn; twenty blades bared againstone. 

There was no play now for the Outlaw of Torn. It was grim battle andhis only hope that he might take a fearful toll of his enemies before hehimself went down. 

And so he fought as he never fought before, to kill as many and asquickly as he might. And to those who watched, it was as though theyoung officer of the Guard had not come within reach of that terribleblade ere he lay dead upon the floor, and then the point of deathpassed into the lungs of one of the men-at-arms, scarcely pausing ere itpierced the heart of a third. 

The soldiers fell back momentarily, awed by the frightful havoc of thatmighty arm. Before De Montfort could urge them on to renew the attack, agirlish figure, clothed in a long riding cloak. Burst through the littleknot of men as they stood facing their lone antagonist. 

With a low cry of mingled rage and indignation, Bertrade de Montfortthrew herself before the Devil of Torn, and facing the astonishedcompany of king, prince, nobles and soldiers, drew herself to her fullheight, and with all the pride of race and blood that was her right ofheritage from a French king on her father's side and an English king onher mother's, she flashed her defiance and contempt in the single word:

"Cowards!"

"What means this, girl?" demanded De Montfort, "Art gone stark mad? Knowthou that this fellow be the Outlaw of Torn?"

"If I had not before known it, My Lord, " she replied haughtily, "itwould be plain to me now as I see forty cowards hesitating to attack alone man. What other man in all England could stand thus against forty?A lion at bay with forty jackals yelping at his feet. "

"Enough, girl, " cried the King, "what be this knave to thee?"

"He loves me, Your Majesty, " she replied proudly, "and I, him. "

"Thou lov'st this low-born cut-throat, Bertrade, " cried Henry. "Thou, a De Montfort, the daughter of my sister; who have seen this murderer'saccursed mark upon the foreheads of thy kin; thou have seen him flaunthis defiance in the King's, thy uncle's, face, and bend his whole lifeto preying upon thy people; thou lov'st this monster?"

"I love him, My Lord King. "

"Thou lov'st him, Bertrade?" asked Philip of France in a low tone, pressing nearer to the girl. 

"Yes, Philip, " she said, a little note of sadness and finality in hervoice; but her eyes met his squarely and bravely. 

Instantly, the sword of the young Prince leaped from its scabbard, andfacing De Montfort and the others, he backed to the side of Norman ofTorn. 

"That she loves him be enough for me to know, my gentlemen, " he said. "Who takes the man Bertrade de Montfort loves must take Philip of Franceas well. "

Norman of Torn laid his left hand upon the other's shoulder. 

"No, thou must not do this thing, my friend, " he said. "It be my fightand I will fight it alone. Go, I beg of thee, and take her with thee, out of harm's way. "

As they argued, Simon de Montfort and the King had spoken together, and, at a word from the former, the soldiers rushed suddenly to the attackagain. It was a cowardly strategem, for they knew that the two couldnot fight with the girl between them and their adversaries. And thus, by weight of numbers, they took Bertrade de Montfort and the Prince awayfrom Norman of Torn without a blow being struck, and then the little, grim, gray, old man stepped forward. 

"There be but one sword in all England, nay in all the world that can, alone, take Norman of Torn, " he said, addressing the King, "and thatsword be mine. Keep thy cattle back, out of my way. " And, withoutwaiting for a reply, the grim, gray man sprang in to engage him whom fortwenty years he had called son. 

Norman of Torn came out of his corner to meet his new-found enemy, andthere, in the apartment of the Queen of England in the castle of Battel, was fought such a duel as no man there had ever seen before, nor is itcredible that its like was ever fought before or since. 

The world's two greatest swordsmen: teacher and pupil--the one with thestrength of a young bull, the other with the cunning of an old gray fox, and both with a lifetime of training behind them, and the lust of bloodand hate before them--thrust and parried and cut until those that gazedawestricken upon the marvellous swordplay scarcely breathed in thetensity of their wonder. 

Back and forth about the room they moved, while those who had come tokill pressed back to make room for the contestants. Now was the youngman forcing his older foeman more and more upon the defensive. Slowly, but as sure as death, he was winning ever nearer and nearer to victory. The old man saw it too. He had devoted years of his life to trainingthat mighty sword arm that it might deal out death to others, andnow--ah! The grim justice of the retribution he, at last, was to fallbefore its diabolical cunning. 

He could not win in fair fight against Norman of Torn; that the wilyFrenchman saw; but now that death was so close upon him that he felt itscold breath condensing on his brow, he had no stomach to die, and so hecast about for any means whereby he might escape the result of his rashventure. 

Presently he saw his opportunity. Norman of Torn stood beside the bodyof one of his earlier antagonists. Slowly the old man worked arounduntil the body lay directly behind the outlaw, and then with a finalrally and one great last burst of supreme swordsmanship, he rushedNorman of Torn back for a bare step--it was enough. The outlaw's footstruck the prostrate corpse; he staggered, and for one brief instant hissword arm rose, ever so little, as he strove to retain his equilibrium;but that little was enough. It was what the gray old snake had expected, and he was ready. Like lightning, his sword shot through the opening, and, for the first time in his life of continual combat and death, Norman of Torn felt cold steel tear his flesh. But ere he fell, hissword responded to the last fierce command of that iron will, and as hisbody sank limply to the floor, rolling with outstretched arms, upon itsback, the little, grim, gray man went down also, clutching franticallyat a gleaming blade buried in his chest. 

For an instant, the watchers stood as though petrified, and thenBertrade de Montfort, tearing herself from the restraining hand of herfather, rushed to the side of the lifeless body of the man she loved. Kneeling there beside him she called his name aloud, as she unlacedhis helm. Tearing the steel headgear from him, she caressed his face, kissing the white forehead and the still lips. 

"Oh God! Oh God!" she murmured. "Why hast thou taken him? Outlaw thoughhe was, in his little finger was more of honor, of chivalry, of truemanhood than courses through the veins of all the nobles of England. 

"I do not wonder that he preyed upon you, " she cried, turning upon theknights behind her. "His life was clean, thine be rotten; he was loyalto his friends and to the downtrodden, ye be traitors at heart, all; andever be ye trampling upon those who be down that they may sink deeperinto the mud. Mon Dieu! How I hate you, " she finished. And as she spokethe words, Bertrade de Montfort looked straight into the eyes of herfather. 

The old Earl turned his head, for at heart he was a brave, broad, kindlyman, and he regretted what he had done in the haste and heat of anger. 

"Come, child, " said the King, "thou art distraught; thou sayest whatthou mean not. The world is better that this man be dead. He was anenemy of organized society, he preyed ever upon his fellows. Life inEngland will be safer after this day. Do not weep over the clay of anameless adventurer who knew not his own father. "

Someone had lifted the little, grim, gray, old man to a sitting posture. He was not dead. Occasionally he coughed, and when he did, his frame wasracked with suffering, and blood flowed from his mouth and nostrils. 

At last they saw that he was trying to speak. Weakly he motioned towardthe King. Henry came toward him. 

"Thou hast won thy sovereign's gratitude, my man, " said the King, kindly. "What be thy name?"

The old fellow tried to speak, but the effort brought on anotherparoxysm of coughing. At last he managed to whisper. 

"Look--at--me. Dost thou--not--remember me?The--foils--the--blow--twenty-long-years. Thou--spat--upon--me. "

Henry knelt and peered into the dying face. 

"De Vac!" he exclaimed. 

The old man nodded. Then he pointed to where lay Norman of Torn. 

"Outlaw--highwayman--scourge--of--England. Look--upon--his--face. Open--his tunic--left--breast. "

He stopped from very weakness, and then in another moment, with a finaleffort: "De--Vac's--revenge. God--damn--the--English, " and slippedforward upon the rushes, dead. 

The King had heard, and De Montfort and the Queen. They stood lookinginto each other's eyes with a strange fixity, for what seemed aneternity, before any dared to move; and then, as though they feared whatthey should see, they bent over the form of the Outlaw of Torn for thefirst time. 

The Queen gave a little cry as she saw the still, quiet face turned upto hers. 

"Edward!" she whispered. 

"Not Edward, Madame, " said De Montfort, "but--"

The King knelt beside the still form, across the breast of which lay theunconscious body of Bertrade de Montfort. Gently, he lifted her to thewaiting arms of Philip of France, and then the King, with his own hands, tore off the shirt of mail, and with trembling fingers ripped wide thetunic where it covered the left breast of the Devil of Torn. 

"Oh God!" he cried, and buried his head in his arms. 

The Queen had seen also, and with a little moan she sank beside the bodyof her second born, crying out:

"Oh Richard, my boy, my boy!" And as she bent still lower to kiss thelily mark upon the left breast of the son she had not seen to know forover twenty years, she paused, and with frantic haste she pressed herear to his breast. 

"He lives!" she almost shrieked. "Quick, Henry, our son lives!"

Bertrade de Montfort had regained consciousness almost before Philip ofFrance had raised her from the floor, and she stood now, leaning onhis arm, watching with wide, questioning eyes the strange scene beingenacted at her feet. 

Slowly, the lids of Norman of Torn lifted with returning consciousness. Before him, on her knees in the blood spattered rushes of the floor, knelt Eleanor, Queen of England, alternately chafing and kissing hishands. 

A sore wound indeed to have brought on such a wild delirium, thought theOutlaw of Torn. 

He felt his body, in a half sitting, half reclining position, restingagainst one who knelt behind him, and as he lifted his head to see whomit might be supporting him, he looked into the eyes of the King, uponwhose breast his head rested. 

Strange vagaries of a disordered brain! Yes it must have been a veryterrible wound that the little old man of Torn had given him; but whycould he not dream that Bertrade de Montfort held him? And then his eyeswandered about among the throng of ladies, nobles and soldiers standinguncovered and with bowed heads about him. Presently he found her. 

"Bertrade!" he whispered. 

The girl came and knelt beside him, opposite the Queen. 

"Bertrade, tell me thou art real; that thou at least be no dream. "

"I be very real, dear heart, " she answered, "and these others be real, also. When thou art stronger, thou shalt understand the strange thingthat has happened. These who wert thine enemies, Norman of Torn, be thybest friends now--that thou should know, so that thou may rest in peaceuntil thou be better. "

He groped for her hand, and, finding it, closed his eyes with a faintsigh. 

They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the Queen's, and all thatnight the mother and the promised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat bathinghis fevered forehead. The King's chirurgeon was there also, while theKing and De Montfort paced the corridor without. 

And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in the days of Moses, or in the days that be ours; the lamb that has been lost and is foundagain be always the best beloved. 

Toward morning, Norman of Torn fell into a quiet and natural sleep;the fever and delirium had succumbed before his perfect health andiron constitution. The chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade deMontfort. 

"You had best retire, ladies, " he said, "and rest. The Prince willlive. "

Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of persuasion or commands onthe part of the King's chirurgeon could restrain him from arising. 

"I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince, " urged the chirurgeon. 

"Why call thou me prince?" asked Norman of Torn. 

"There be one without whose right it be to explain that to thee, "replied the chirurgeon, "and when thou be clothed, if rise thou wilt, thou mayst see her, My Lord. "

The chirurgeon aided him to dress and, opening the door, he spoke to asentry who stood just without. The sentry transmitted the message to ayoung squire who was waiting there, and presently the door was thrownopen again from without, and a voice announced:

"Her Majesty, the Queen!"

Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise, and then there came backto him the scene in the Queen's apartment the night before. It was all asore perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he attempt to. 

And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of England coming toward himacross the small room, her arms outstretched; her beautiful face radiantwith happiness and love. 

"Richard, my son!" exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him and taking his facein her hands and kissing him. 

"Madame!" exclaimed the surprised man. "Be all the world gone crazy?"

And then she told him the strange story of the little lost prince ofEngland. 

When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking her hand in his andraising it to his lips. 

"I did not know, Madame, " he said, "or never would my sword have beenbared in other service than thine. If thou canst forgive me, Madame, never can I forgive myself. "

"Take it not so hard, my son, " said Eleanor of England. "It be no faultof thine, and there be nothing to forgive; only happiness and rejoicingshould we feel, now that thou be found again. "

"Forgiveness!" said a man's voice behind them. "Forsooth, it be wethat should ask forgiveness; hunting down our own son with swords andhalters. 

"Any but a fool might have known that it was no base-born knave who sentthe King's army back, naked, to the King, and rammed the King's messagedown his messenger's throat. 

"By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a King's son, an' thoughwe made sour faces at the time, we be all the prouder of thee now. "

The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first words to see the Kingstanding behind them, and now Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, andgreeted his father. 

"They be sorry jokes, Sire, " he said. "Methinks it had been better hadRichard remained lost. It will do the honor of the Plantagenets butlittle good to acknowledge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the blood. "

But they would not have it so, and it remained for a later King ofEngland to wipe the great name from the pages of history--perhaps ajealous king. 

Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas to those of thechirurgeon, prevailed upon him to lie down once more, and when he haddone so they left him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had thedoor closed behind them than he arose and left the apartment by anotherexit. 

It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he found her for whom hewas searching. She sat looking wistfully into space, an expression halfsad upon her beautiful face. She did not see him as he approached, andhe stood there for several moments watching her dear profile, and therising and falling of her bosom over that true and loyal heart thathad beaten so proudly against all the power of a mighty throne for thedespised Outlaw of Torn. 

He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtle sixth sense whichwarns us that we are not alone, though our eyes see not nor our earshear, caused her to turn. 

With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low after the manner ofthe court, said:

"What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England, of his poor subject?"And then, more gravely, "My Lord, I have been raised at court, and Iunderstand that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget whatpassed between Bertrade de Montfort and Norman of Torn. "

"Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb royal precedents, " hereplied, "for he will wed not rashly, but most wisely, since he will wednone but Bertrade de Montfort. " And he who had been the Outlaw of Torntook the fair young girl in his arms, adding: "If she still loves me, now that I be a prince?"

She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek down close to hers. 

"It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor be it the prince Ilove now; it be all the same to me, prince or highwayman--it be thee Ilove, dear heart--just thee. "

*****

The following changes have been made:

 PAGE LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO 17 17 merks marks 554 ertswhile erstwhile 591 so so do so 90 26 beats beasts 934 presntly presently 124 20 rescurer rescuer 171 27 walls. " walls. 1843 gnetlemen gentlemen 185 20 fored, formed, 1866 to forces the forces 195 19 those father whose father 2172 precipitably precipitately 2175 litle little 221 30 Monfort Montfort 230 30 Montforth Montfort 245 15 muderer's murderer's

The only changes that have been made to this text by Publisher's ChoiceBooks and its General Manager/Editor have been the removal of allword-breaking hyphenation, and the occasional addition of a comma toseparate certain phrases. These changes were effected merely to increasethe Reader's reading ease and enjoyment of the text. 

The following spelling changes were effected within the text for reasonsof clarity:

"chid" to "chide" "sword play" to "swordplay" "subtile" to "subtle"