"Ah! Abbot Leofric, my very good lord. I have come to ask hospitality of
you for some three days. By that time I shall be a wolf's head, and out of
the law: and then, if you will give me ten minutes' start, you may put
your bloodhounds on my track, and see which runs fastest, they or I. You
are a gentleman, and a man of honor; so I trust to you to feed my horse
fairly the meanwhile, and not to let your monks poison me."

The Abbot's face relaxed. He tried to look as solemn as he could; but he
ended in bursting into a very great laughter, and swearing likewise.

"The insolence of this lad passes the miracles of all saints. He robs St.
Peter on the highway, breaks into his abbey, insults him to his face, and
then asks him for hospitality; and--"

"And gets it," quoth Hereward.

"What is to be done with him, Brand, my friend? If we turn him out--"

"Which we cannot do," said Brand, looking at the well-mailed and armed
lad, "without calling in half a dozen of our men-at-arms."

"In which case there would be blood shed, and scandal made in the holy
precincts."

"And nothing gained; for yield he would not till he was killed outright,
which God forbid!"

"Amen. And if he stay here, he may be persuaded to repentance."

"And restitution."