the splendour of God.

Part 2

Two years later in the same month of the year Jehan rode east out of Ivo's
new castle of Belvoir to visit the manor of which, by the grace of God and
the King and the favour of the Count of Dives, he was now the lord. By the
Dove's side he had been north to Durham and west to the Welsh marches,
rather on falcon's than on dove's errands, for Ivo held that the crooning
of peace notes came best after hard blows. But at his worst he was hawk and
not crow, and malice did not follow his steps. The men he beat had a rude
respect for one who was just and patient in victory, and whose laughter did
not spare himself. Like master like man; and Jehan was presently so sealed
of Ivo's brotherhood that in the tales of the time the two names were
rarely separate. The jealous, swift to deprecate good fortune, spared the
Outborn, for it was observed that he stood aside while others scrambled for
gain. Also, though no man knew his birth, he bore himself with the pride of
a king.

When Ivo's raw stone towers faded in the blue distance, the road led from
shaggy uplands into a forested plain, with knolls at intervals which gave
the traveller a prospect of sullen levels up to the fringe of the fens and
the line of the sea. Six men-at-arms jolted at his back on little
country-red horses, for Jehan did his tasks with few helpers; and they rode
well in the rear, for he loved to be alone. The weather was all October
gleams and glooms, now the sunshine of April, now the purple depths of a
thunderstorm. There was no rain in the air, but an infinity of mist, which
moved in fantastic shapes, rolling close about the cavalcade, so that the
very road edge was obscured, now dissolving into clear light, now opening
up corridors at the end of which some landmark appeared at an immeasurable