"Men can fight," Lady Ebba answered, curtly.

"Of course," Roger reflected. "But women can make men fight. Father told
me that once when the Danes tried to take your father's castle you held
them off until he came back."

Lady Ebba did not say anything. She rose and stalked away, but although
her back was to Roger, Eleanor could see that she was actually smiling.

Eleanor knew that story. It gave her a feeling of enormous admiration and
awe when she thought of it, but love--for a grandmother who had commanded
a garrison, on scanty rations, besieged by fierce and bloodthirsty
pirates--seemed a little out of place.

It was certainly far pleasanter, having Roger for a playmate. Eleanor
thought it was better than having a sister. He taught her to run, to fish,
to play bowls, nine-men-morris, and draughts. The dismal stone hall was
not half so grim with Roger in her corner.

These diversions did not, however, interrupt the daily lessons, the task
in spinning, or the newly-begun tapestry. To her great satisfaction
Eleanor found that Roger liked the tapestry chamber nearly or quite as
well as she did. When he saw Eleanor's tapestry he persuaded Sir Hugh
l'Estrange to spend a rainy morning in making sketches for it.

"Father has been to Egypt and the other places," he explained, "and knows
just how they look. You never saw a dragon, though, father?" he added
doubtfully.

"Not exactly, but I have seen a beast rather like one," laughed the