dozen Saxon grooms, in loose hose and short homespun tunics, were
exercising some of Curboil's great Normandy horses. The baron himself
was not in sight, and the grooms told Gilbert that he was within. The
drawbridge was down, and Gilbert halted just before entering the gate,
calling loudly for the porter. But instead of the latter, Sir Arnold
himself appeared at that moment within the courtyard, feeding a brace
of huge mastiffs with gobbets of red raw meat from a wooden bowl,
carried by a bare-legged stable-boy with a shock of almost colourless
flaxen hair, and a round, red face, pierced by two little round blue
eyes. Gilbert called again, and the knight instantly turned and came
towards him, beating down with his hands the huge dogs that sprang up
at him in play and seemed trying to drive him back. Sir Arnold was
smooth, spotless and carefully dressed as ever, and came forward with a
well-composed smile in which hospitality was skilfully blended with
sympathy and concern. Gilbert, who was as thorough a Norman in every
instinct and thought as any whose fathers had held lands from the
Conqueror, did his best to be suave and courteous on his side.
Dismounting, he said quietly that he desired to speak with Sir Arnold
alone upon a matter of weight, and as the day was fair, he proposed
that they should ride together for a little way into the greenwood. Sir
Arnold barely showed a slight surprise, and readily assented. Gilbert,
intent upon his purpose, noticed that the knight had no weapon.

"It were as well that you took your sword with you, Sir Arnold," he
said, somewhat emphatically. "No one is safe from highwaymen in these
times."

The knight met Gilbert's eyes, and the two looked at each other
steadily for a moment; then Curboil sent the stable-boy to fetch his
sword from the hall, and himself went out upon the drawbridge and