gentlemen have

not gone very fast, and i have a horse in the stable at your

disposal, for i would rather have such bloody doings as you

threaten outside the four walls of mine auberge."

"i hurt my leg and cannot ride," quoth the bishop's champion. "i

strained a sinew on the day that i slew the three men at

castelnau."

"god save you, master pelligny!" cried the landlord. "it must be

an awesome thing to have so much blood upon one's soul. and yet

i do not wish to see so valiant a man mishandled, and so i will,

for friendship's sake, ride after this englishman and bring him

back to you."

"you shall not stir," cried the champion, seizing the inn-keeper

in a convulsive grasp. "i have a love for you, gaston, and i

would not bring your house into ill repute, nor do such scath to

these walls and chattels as must befall if two such men as this

englishman and i fall to work here."

"nay, think not of me!" cried the inn-keeper. "what are my walls

when set against the honor of francois poursuivant d'amour

pelligny, champion of the bishop of montaubon. my horse, andre!"

"by the saints, no! gaston, i will not have it! you have said

truly that it is an awesome thing to have such rough work upon

one's soul. i am but a rude soldier, yet i have a mind. mon

dieu! i reflect, i weigh, i balance. shall i not meet this man

again? shall i not bear him in mind? shall i not know him by

his great paws and his red head? ma foi, yes!"

"and may i ask, sir," said alleyne, "why it is that you call

yourself champion of the bishop of montaubon?"

"you may ask aught which it is becoming to me to answer. the

bishop hath need of a champion, because, if any cause be set to

test of combat, it would scarce become his office to go down into

the lists with leather and shield and cudgel to exchange blows

with any varlet. he looks around him then for some tried

fighting man, some honest smiter who can give a blow or take one.

it is not for me to say how far he hath succeeded, but it is

sooth that he who thinks that he hath but to do with the bishop

of montaubon, finds himself face to face with francois

poursuivant d'amour pelligny."

at this moment there was a clatter of hoofs upon the road, and a

varlet by the door cried out that one of the englishmen was

coming back. the champion looked wildly about for some corner of

safety, and was clambering up towards the window, when ford's

voice sounded from without, calling upon alleyne to hasten, or he

might scarce find his way. bidding adieu to landlord and to

champion, therefore, he set off at a gallop, and soon overtook

the two archers.

"a pretty thing this, john," said he. "thou wilt have holy

church upon you if you hang her champions upon iron hooks in an

inn kitchen."

"it was done without thinking," he answered apologetically, while

aylward burst into a shout of laughter.

"by my hilt! mon petit," said he, "you would have laughed also

could you have seen it. for this man was so swollen with pride

that he would neither drink with us, nor sit at the same table

with us, nor as much as answer a question, but must needs talk to

the varlet all the time that it was well there was peace, and

that he had slain more englishmen than there were tags to his

doublet. our good old john could scarce lay his tongue to french

enough to answer him, so he must needs reach out his great hand

to him and place him very gently where you saw him. but we must

on, for i can scarce hear their hoofs upon the road."

"i think that i can see them yet," said ford, peering down the

moonlit road.

"pardieu! yes. now they ride forth from the shadow. and yonder

dark clump is the castle of villefranche. en avant camarades! or

sir nigel may reach the gates before us. but hark, mes amis,

what sound is that?"

as he spoke the hoarse blast of a horn was heard from some woods

upon the right. an answering call rung forth upon their left,

and hard upon it two others from behind them.

"they are the horns of swine-herds," quoth aylward. "though why

they blow them so late i cannot tell."

"let us on, then," said ford, and the whole party, setting their

spurs to their horses, soon found themselves at the castle of

villefranche, where the drawbridge had already been lowered and

the portcullis raised in response to the summons of du guesclin.

chapter xxix.

how the blessed hour of sight came to the lady tiphaine.

sir tristram de rochefort, seneschal of auvergne and lord of

villefranche, was a fierce and renowned soldier who had grown

gray in the english wars. as lord of the marches and guardian of

an exposed country-side, there was little rest for him even in

times of so-called peace, and his whole life was spent in raids

and outfalls upon the brabanters, late-comers, flayers free

companions, and roving a