Encouraged by promises of reward if they should fall in the
service of the Abbey, and by threats of penalties if they should
hold back, the four archers were about to close, when a singular
interruption gave an entirely new turn to the proceedings.

At the door of the chapter-house, while these fiery doings had
been afoot, there had assembled a mixed crowd of lay brothers,
servants and varlets who had watched the development of the drama
with the interest and delight with which men hail a sudden break
in a dull routine. Suddenly there was an agitation at the back of
this group, then a swirl in the center, and finally the front rank
was violently thrust aside, and through the gap there emerged a
strange and whimsical figure, who from the instant of his
appearance dominated both chapter-house and Abbey, monks, prelates
and archers, as if he were their owner and their master.

He was a man somewhat above middle age, with thin lemon-colored
hair, a curling mustache, a tufted chin of the same hue, and a
high craggy face, all running to a great hook of the nose, like
the beak of an eagle. His skin was tanned a brown-red by much
exposure to the wind and sun. In height he was tall, and his
figure was thin and loose-jointed, but stringy and hard-bitten.
One eye was entirely covered by its lid, which lay flat over an
empty socket, but the other danced and sparkled with a most
roguish light, darting here and there with a twinkle of humor and
criticism and intelligence, the whole fire of his soul bursting
through that one narrow cranny.

His dress was as noteworthy as his person. A rich purple doublet