strive with such odds. They overpowered him, bending his arms viciously
back and kicking his broken head. Their oaths filled the hut with an ugly
clamour, but no sound came from their victim.

Suddenly a gust of air set the lantern flickering, and a new-comer stood in
the doorway. He picked up the light and looked down on the struggle. He was
a tall, very lean man, smooth faced, and black haired, helmetless and
shieldless, but wearing the plated hauberk of the soldier. There was no
scabbard on his left side, but his right hand held a long bright sword.

For a second he lifted the light high, while he took in the scene. His eyes
were dark and dancing, like the ripples on a peat stream. "So-ho!" he said
softly. "Murder! And by our own vermin!"

He appeared to brood for a second, and then he acted. For he set the light
very carefully in the crook of a joist so that it illumined the whole hut.
Then he reached out a hand, plucked the ex-priest from his quarry, and,
swinging him in both arms, tossed him through the door into the darkness.
It would seem that he fell hard, for there was a groan and then silence.

"One less," he said softly.

The three had turned to face him, warned by Gil's exclamation, and found
themselves looking at the ominous bar of light which was his sword.
Cornered like rats, they took small comfort from the odds. They were ready
to surrender, still readier to run, and they stood on their defence with no
fight in their faces, whining in their several patois. All but the man from
the south. He was creeping round in the darkness by the walls, and had in
his hands a knife. No mailed hauberk protected the interloper's back and
there was a space there for steel to quiver between his shoulder blades.