ad.
from time to time as they advanced they saw strange lean figures
scraping and scratching amid the weeds and thistles, who, on
sight of the band of horsemen, threw up their arms and dived in
among the brushwood, as shy and as swift as wild animals. more
than once, however, they came on families by the wayside, who
were too weak from hunger and disease to fly, so that they could
but sit like hares on a tussock, with panting chests and terror
in their eyes. so gaunt were these poor folk, so worn and spent-
-with bent and knotted frames, and sullen, hopeless, mutinous
faces--that it made the young englishman heart-sick to look upon
them. indeed, it seemed as though all hope and light had gone so
far from them that it was not to be brought back; for when sir
nigel threw down a handful of silver among them there came no
softening of their lined faces, but they clutched greedily at the
coins, peering questioningly at him, and champing with their
animal jaws. here and there amid the brushwood the travellers
saw the rude bundle of sticks which served them as a home--more
like a fowl's nest than the dwelling-place of man. yet why
should they build and strive, when the first adventurer who
passed would set torch to their thatch, and when their own feudal
lord would wring from them with blows and curses the last fruits
of their toil? they sat at the lowest depth of human misery, and
hugged a bitter comfort to their souls as they realized that they
could go no lower. yet they had still the human gift of speech,
and would take council among themselves in their brushwood
hovels, glaring with bleared eyes and pointing with thin fingers
at the great widespread chateaux which ate like a cancer into
the life of the country-side. when such men, who are beyond hope
and fear, begin in their dim minds to see the source their woes,
it may be an evil time for those who have wronged them. the weak
man becomes strong when he has nothing, for then only can he feel
the wild, mad thrill of despair. high and strong the chateaux,
lowly and weak the brushwood hut; but god help the seigneur and
his lady when the men of the brushwood set their hands to the
work of revenge!
through such country did the party ride for eight or it might be
nine miles, until the sun began to slope down in the west and
their shadows to stream down the road in front of them. wary and
careful they must be, with watchful eyes to the right and the
left, for this was no man's land, and their only passports were
those which hung from their belts. frenchmen and englishmen,
gascon and provencal, brabanter, tardvenu, scorcher, flayer, and
free companion, wandered and struggled over the whole of this
accursed district. so bare and cheerless was the outlook, and so
few and poor the dwellings, that sir nigel began to have fears as
to whether he might find food and quarters for his little troop.
it was a relief to him, therefore, when their narrow track opened
out upon a larger road, and they saw some little way down it a
square white house with a great bunch of holly hung out at the
end of a stick from one of the upper windows.
"by st. paul!" said he, "i am right glad; for i had feared that
we might have neither provant nor herbergage. ride on, alleyne,
and tell this inn-keeper that an english knight with his party
will lodge with him this night."
alleyne set spurs to his horse and reached the inn door a long
bow-shot before his companions. neither varlet nor ostler could
be seen, so he pushed open the door and called loudly for the
landlord. three times he shouted, but, receiving no reply, he
opened an inner door and advanced into the chief guest-room of
the hostel.
a very cheerful wood-fire was sputtering and cracking in an open
grate at the further end of the apartment. at one side of this
fire, in a high-backed oak chair, sat a lady, her face turned
towards the door. the firelight played over her features, and
alleyne thought that he had never seen such queenly power, such
dignity and strength, upon a woman's face. she might have been
five-and-thirty years of age, with aquiline nose, firm yet
sensitive mouth, dark curving brows, and deep-set eyes which
shone and sparkled with a shifting brilliancy. beautiful as she
was, it was not her beauty which impressed itself upon the
beholder; it was her strength, her power, the sense of wisdom
which hung over the broad white brow, the decision which lay in
the square jaw and delicately moulded chin. a chaplet of pearls
sparkled amid her black hair, with a gauze of silver network
flowing back from it over her shoulders; a black mantle was
swathed round her, and she leaned back in her chair as one who is
fresh from a journey.
in the opposite corner there sat a very burly and broad-
shouldered man, clad in a black jerkin trimmed with sab
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