"Gentle!" Her eyes were still upraised. "He knows not the word. When he
looks at me there is no liking in his eyes. I am--frightened."

The overlord sat his great horse and surveyed the plain below. As far as
he could see, and as far again in every direction, was his domain,
paying him tithe of fat cattle and heaping granaries. As far as he could
see and as far again was the domain that, lacking a man-child, would go
to Philip, his cousin.

The Bishop, who rode his donkey without a saddle, slipped off and stood
beside the little beast on the road. His finger absently traced the dark
cross on its back.

"Idiots!" snarled the overlord out of his distemper, as he looked down
into the faces of his faithful ones below. "Fools and sons of fools! Thy
beast would suit them better, Bishop, than mine."

Then he flung himself insolently out of the saddle. There was little of
Christmas in his heart, God knows; only hate and disappointment and
thwarted pride.

"A great day, my lord," said the Bishop. "Peace over the land. The end
of a plentiful year--"

"Bah!"

"The end of a plentiful year," repeated the Bishop tranquilly, "this day
of His birth, a day for thanksgiving and for--good-will."

"Bah!" said the overlord again, and struck the grey a heavy blow. So