CHAPTER XIV. HOW SIR NIGEL SOUGHT FOR A WAYSIDE VENTURE.

ckoftangledredhair,bearinginhishandsasmallunpaintedcross,whichheheldhighsothatallmenmightseeit.Heseemedtobeinthelastextremityoffright,withafacethecolorofclayandhislimbsallashakeasonewhohathanague.Behindhim,withhistoeeverraspingupontheother'sheels,therewalkedaverystern,black-beardedmanwithahardeyeandasetmouth.Heboreoverhisshoulderagreatknottedstickwiththreejaggednailsstuckintheheadofit,andfromtimetotimehewhirleditupintheairwithaquiveringarm,asthoughhecouldscarceholdbackfromdashinghiscompanion'sbrainsout.Soinsilencetheywalkedunderthespreadofthebranchesonthegrass-grownpathfromBoldre. “BySt.Paul!”quoththeknight,“butthisisapassingstrangesight,andperchancesomeveryperilousandhonorableventuremayarisefromit.Iprayyou,Edricson,torideuptothemandtoaskthemthecauseofit.” Therewasnoneed,however,forhimtomove,forthetwaincameswiftlytowardsthemuntiltheywerewithinaspear'slength,whenthemanwiththecrosssathimselfdownsullenlyuponatussockofgrassbythewayside,whiletheotherstoodbesidehimwithhisgreatcudgelstillhangingoverhishead.Sointentwashethatheraisedhiseyesneithertoknightnorsquires,butkeptthemeverfixedwithasavageglareuponhiscomrade. “Iprayyou,friend,”saidSirNigel,“totellustruthfullywhoyouare,andwhyyoufollowthismanwithsuchbitterenmity?” “SolongasIamwithinthepaleoftheking'slaw,”thestrangeranswered,“IcannotseewhyIshouldrenderaccounttoeverypassingwayfarer.” “Youarenoveryshrewdreasoner,fellow,”quoththeknight“forifitbewithinthelawforyoutothreatenhimwithyourclub,thenitisalsolawfulformetothreatenyouwithmysword.” Themanwiththecrosswasdowninaninstantonhiskneesupontheground,withhandsclaspedabovehimandhisfaceshiningwithhope.“FordearChrist'ssake,myfairlord,”hecriedinacracklingvoice,“Ihaveatmybeltabagwithahundredrosenobles,andIwillgiveittoyoufreelyifyouwillbutpassyourswordthroughthisman'sbody.” “How,youfoulknave?”exclaimedSirNigelhotly.“Doyouthinkthatacavalier'sarmistobeboughtlikeapackman'sware.BySt.Paul!Ihavelittledoubtthatthisfellowhathsomeverygoodcausetoholdyouinhatred.” “Indeed,myfairsir,youspeaksooth,”quothhewiththeclub,whiletheotherseatedhimselfoncemorebythewayside.“ForthismanisPeterPeterson,averynotedrieve,draw-latch,andmurtherer,whohaswroughtmuchevilformanyyearsinthepartsaboutWinchester.Itwasbuttheotherday,uponthefeastsoftheblessedSimonandJude,thatheslewmyyoungerbrotherWilliaminBereForest—forwhich,bytheblackthornofGlastonbury!Ishallhavehisheart'sblood,thoughIwalkbehindhimtothefurtherendofearth.” “Butifthisbeindeedso,”askedSirNigel,“whyisitthatyouhavecomewithhimsofarthroughtheforest?” “BecauseIamanhonestEnglishman,andwilltakenomorethanthelawallows.ForwhenthedeedwasdonethisfoulandbasewretchfledtosanctuaryatSt.Cross,andI,asyoumaythink,afterhimwithalltheposse.Theprior,however,hathsoorderedthatwhileheholdsthiscrossnomanmaylayhanduponhimwithoutthebanofchurch,whichheavenforfendfrommeormine.Yet,ifforaninstanthelaythecrossaside,orifhefailtojourneytoPitt'sDeep,whereitisorderedthatheshalltakeshiptooutlandparts,orifhetakenotthefirstship,orifuntiltheshipbereadyhewalknoteverydayintotheseaasfarashisloins,thenhebecomesoutlaw,andIshallforthwithdashouthisbrains.” Atthisthemanonthegroundsnarledupathimlikearat,whiletheotherclenchedhisteeth,andshookhisclub,andlookeddownathimwithmurderinhiseyes.Knightandsquiregazedfromroguetoavenger,butasitwasamatterwhichnonecouldmendtheytarriednolonger,butrodeupontheirway.Alleyne,lookingback,sawthatthemurdererhaddrawnbreadandcheesefromhisscrip,andwassilentlymunchingit,withtheprotectingcrossstillhuggedtohisbreast,whiletheother,blackandgrim,stoodinthesunlitroadandthrewhisdarkshadowathwarthim.