of the old race who owned these lands long before the
false Navailles had set foot therein. I have come back armed with the
King's warrant to claim mine own.

"Say, men, will ye have me for your lord? or will ye continue to serve
yon raging madman till England's King sends an army to raze Saut to the
ground, and slay the rebellious horde within these ancient walls?"

Gaston had raised his voice as he had gone on speaking, for he saw that
the dialogue with the old seneschal had attracted the attention of a
number of men-at-arms, who had gradually mustered about the gate to hear
what was passing.

Gaston spoke his native dialect like one of themselves. The name of De
Brocas was known far and wide in that land, and was everywhere spoken
with affection and respect. The fierce rapacity of the Navailles was
equally feared and hated. Even the stout soldiers who had followed his
fortunes so long regarded him with fear and distrust. No man in those
days felt certain of his life. If he chanced to offend the madman, a
savage blow from that strong arm might fell him to the earth; whilst
some amongst their companions had from time to time mysteriously
disappeared, and their fate had never been disclosed.

A sense of fearfulness and uncertainty had long reigned at Saut. The mad
master had his own myrmidons in the Tower, who would do his bidding
whatever that bidding might be; and that there were dark secrets hidden
away in those underground dungeons and secret chambers everybody in the
Castle well knew. Hardly one of the men now gathered on the opposite
side of the moat but had awakened at some time or other from a horrid
dream, believing himself to have been spirited down into those gloomy
subterranean places, there to expiate some trifling offence, according
as their savage lord should give order. Many of these men had assisted
at scenes which seemed frightful to them when they pictured themselves
the victims of the cruelty of the fierce man they had long served, but
whom now they had grown to fear and distrust.

A sense of horror had long been hanging over Saut, and since the
disappearance of the maiden who once had brightened the grim place by
her presence, this horror had perceptibly deepened. Not one of all the
men-at-arms dared even to his fellow to propose the remedy. Each feared
that if he breathed what was in his own mind, the very walls would
whisper it in the ears of their lord, and that the offender would be
doomed