leaves of the hedge that crowns the parapet.... What
the devil can these precautions of defence mean?"

"By the hammer of Charles!" said Berthoald. "Here we have an abbess who
is well up in the art of entrenchment! But there must be some other
route to reach the abbey and--" Berthoald did not finish the sentence. A
volley of stones thrown by slingers hid behind the hedge that crowned
the parapet, reached the three warriors. Their casques and cuirasses
broke the shock, but the young chief was rudely struck in the shoulder,
while the horse of Richulf, that was near the edge of the road and was
hit in the head, reared so violently that it fell over upon its rider
and both rolled into the pond, which was so deep at that spot that horse
and rider disappeared completely. The Frank soon rose back to the
surface and managed with great difficulty to clamber up the bank, while
his horse swam away frightened towards the center of the pond, where,
finally exhausted, it rolled over and sank.

"Treason!" cried Berthoald.

The deep moat filled with water was thirty feet wide. In order to cross
it, according to the art of war, it would have been necessary to fetch
lumber from a great distance and commence a regular siege. Night,
moreover, was on. While the young chief consulted with his companions
upon the unexpected occurrence, a voice from behind the hedge called
out: "This first volley of stones is but a shower of roses to what is in
store for you if you attempt to force a passage."

"Whoever you be, you shall pay dearly for this assault," cried
Berthoald. "We are come by orders of Charles, chief of the Franks, who
made a gift of the abbey of Meriadek to me and my men. I command here.
It is for you to obey."

"And I," replied the voice, "make you a gift, preparatory to something
better, of that volley of stones that you just got."

"We can not to-night force a passage; but we shall encamp on this road.
To-morrow, at break of day, we shall storm your entrenchment. So, I warn
you, the abbess of this convent and her nuns will be treated like women
of conquered towns. The young ones will be distributed among us, the old
ones will be whipped, and the men will be slaughtered."

"Our holy abbess, Dame Meroflede, minds not such threats," answered the
voice. "The abbess consents to admit the chief of those bandits, but
alone, into the convent.... His companions will camp for the night on
the causeway. To-morrow at break of day he shal