he fat miller of milton!"

"ah, so it is, indeed," said sir nigel, puckering his cheeks;

"but wayside ventures are not to be scorned, for i have seen no

finer passages than are to be had from such chance meetings, when

cavaliers are willing to advance themselves. i can well remember

that two leagues from the town of rheims i met a very valiant and

courteous cavalier of france, with whom i had gentle and most

honorable contention for upwards of an hour. it hath ever

grieved me that i had not his name, for he smote upon me with a

mace and went upon his way ere i was in condition to have much

speech with him; but his arms were an allurion in chief above a

fess azure. i was also on such an occasion thrust through the

shoulder by lyon de montcourt, whom i met on the high road

betwixt libourne and bordeaux. i met him but the once, but i

have never seen a man for whom i bear a greater love and esteem.

and so also with the squire le bourg capillet, who would have

been a very valiant captain had he lived."

"he is dead then?" asked alleyne edricson.

"alas! it was my ill fate to slay him in a bickering which broke

out in a field near the township of tarbes. i cannot call to

mind how the thing came about, for it was in the year of the

prince's ride through langued'oc, when there was much fine

skirmishing to be had at barriers. by st. paul! i do not think

that any honorable cavalier could ask for better chance of

advancement than might be had by spurring forth before the army

and riding to the gateways of narbonne, or bergerac or mont

giscar, where some courteous gentleman would ever be at wait to

do what he might to meet your wish or ease you of your vow. such

a one at ventadour ran three courses with me betwixt daybreak and

sunrise, to the great exaltation of his lady."

"and did you slay him also, my lord?" asked ford with reverence.

"i could never learn, for he was carried within the barrier, and

as i had chanced to break the bone of my leg it was a great

unease for me to ride or even to stand. yet, by the goodness of

heaven and the pious intercession of the valiant st. george, i

was able to sit my charger in the ruffle of poictiers, which was

no very long time afterwards. but what have we here? a very

fair and courtly maiden, or i mistake."

it was indeed a tall and buxom country lass, with a basket of

spinach-leaves upon her head, and a great slab of bacon tucked

under one arm. she bobbed a frightened curtsey as sir nigel

swept his velvet hat from his head and reined up his great

charger.

"god be with thee, fair maiden!" said he.

"god guard thee, my lord!" she answered, speaking in the broadest

west saxon speech, and balancing herself first on one foot and

then on the other in her bashfulness.

"fear not, my fair damsel," said sir nigel, "but tell me if

perchance a poor and most unworthy knight can in any wise be of

service to you. should it chance that you have been used

despitefully, it may be that i may obtain justice for you."

"lawk no, kind sir," she answered, clutching her bacon the

tighter, as though some design upon it might be hid under this

knightly offer. "i be the milking wench o' fairmer arnold, and

he be as kind a maister as heart could wish."

"it is well," said he, and with a shake of the bridle rode on

down the woodland path. "i would have you bear in mind," he

continued to his squires, "that gentle courtesy is not, as is the

base use of so many false knights, to be shown only to maidens of

high degree, for there is no woman so humble that a true knight

may not listen to her tale of wrong. but here comes a cavalier

who is indeed in haste. perchance it would be well that we

should ask him whither he rides, for it may be that he is one who

desires to advance himself in chivalry."

the bleak, hard, wind-swept road dipped down in front of them

into a little valley, and then, writhing up the heathy slope upon

the other side, lost itself among the gaunt pine-trees. far away

between the black lines of trunks the quick glitter of steel

marked where the company pursued its way. to the north stretched

the tree country, but to the south, between two swelling downs, a

glimpse might be caught of the cold gray shimmer of the sea, with

the white fleck of a galley sail upon the distant sky-line. just

in front of the travellers a horseman was urging his steed up the

slope, driving it on with whip and spur as one who rides for a

set purpose. as he clattered up, alleyne could see that the roan

horse was gray with dust and flecked with foam, as though it had

left many a mile behind it. the rider was a stern-faced man,

hard of mouth and dry of eye, with a heavy sword clanking at his

side, and a stiff white bundle swathed in linen balanced across

the pommel of his saddle.

"the king's messenger," he bawled as