massive was the beast, so terrific the pace at which it charged down the
hill that the villagers scattered. He watched them with his lip curling.

"See," he said, "brave men and true! Watch, father, how they rally to
the charge!" And when the creature was caught, and a swaying figure
clung to the bridle:

"By the cross, the Fool has him! A fine heritage for my cousin Philip, a
village with its bravest man a simpleton!"

The Fool held on swinging. His arms were very strong, and as is the way
with fools and those that drown, many things went through his mind. The
horse was his. He would go adventuring along the winter roads,
adventuring and singing. The townspeople gathered about him with
sheepish praise. From a dolt he had become a hero. Many have taken the
same step in the same space of moments, the line being but a line and
easy to cross.

The _denouement_ suited the grim mood of the overlord. It pleased him to
see the smug villagers stand by while the Fool mounted his steed. Side
by side from the parapet he and the Bishop looked down into the town.

"The birthday of our Lord, Bishop," he said, "with fools on blooded
horses and the courage of the townspeople in their stomachs."

"The birthday of our Lord," said the Bishop tranquilly, "with a lad
mounted who has heretofore trudged afoot, and with the hungry fed in the
market place."

Now it had been in the mind of the Bishop that the day would soften