the chapter-house; if not I will give you audience in my own
chamber; for it is clear to me that you are a gentle man of blood
and coat-armor who would not lightly break in upon the business of
our court--a business which, as you have remarked, is little
welcome to men of peace like myself and the brethren of the rule
of Saint Bernard."

"Pardieu! Father Abbot," said the stranger. "One had but to
glance at you and your men to see that the business was indeed
little to your taste, and it may be even less so when I say that
rather than see this young person in the window, who hath a noble
bearing, further molested by these archers, I will myself
adventure my person on his behalf."

The Abbot's smile turned to a frown at these frank words. "It
would become you better, sir, to deliver the message of which you
say that you are the bearer, than to uphold a prisoner against the
rightful judgment of a court."

The stranger swept the court with his questioning eye. "The
message is not for you, good father Abbot. It is for one whom I
know not. I have been to his house, and they have sent me hither.
The name is Nigel Loring."

"It is for me, fair sir."

"I had thought as much. I knew your father, Eustace Loring, and
though he would have made two of you, yet he has left his stamp
plain enough upon your face."