now," quoth Gaston, laughing, as Sir James and his followers sallied
forth one bright December morning to take their last stage on the
journey to Windsor.

They had traversed the main distance the day previously, for Sir James
had no wish to arrive weary and travel stained at the King's Court.
Orders had been given for every man to don his best riding dress and
look well to the trappings of his steed, and it was a gallant-looking
company indeed that sallied out from the door of the wayside hostelry
and took the road towards the great Castle, glimpses of which began from
time to time to be visible through the trees.

"I trow they would scarce know us! There be moments, Raymond, when I
scarce know myself for the same. It seems as though years had passed
since we left the old home, and by the Mass I feel as though I were a
new being since then!"

"Yea, verily, and I also," answered Raymond, looking round him with
eager eyes. "Gaston, look well about thee; for by what Malcolm says,
these very woods through which we shall pass, and the Manor of old
Windsor hard by, are the property of our uncle Sir John de Brocas, the
King's Master of the Horse; and by what I hear, methinks we shall see
him in the flesh ere the day has passed."

"Ha!" exclaimed Gaston, with interest; "if that be so let us heed him
well, for much of our future may hang on him. He is in the King's
favour, they say, and if he did but plead our cause with the Roy
Outremer, we might well look to call Basildene our home ere long."

"We must call him no longer the Roy Outremer," said Raymond, with a