ue
jogging twenty yards behind. But no care sat on Jehan's brow. He plucked
sprays of autumn berries and tossed and caught them, he sang gently to
himself and spoke his thoughts to his horse. Harm could not come to him
when air and scene woke in his heart such strange familiarity.

A last turn of the road showed Highstead before him, two furlongs
distant. The thatched roof of the hall rose out of a cluster of shingled
huts on a mound defended by moat and palisade. No smoke came from the
dwelling, and no man was visible, but not for nothing was Jehan named
the Hunter. He was aware that every tuft of reed and scrog of wood
concealed a spear or a bowman. So he set his head stiff and laughed, and
hummed a bar of a song which the ferry-men used to sing on Seine side.
"A man does not fight to win his home," he told his horse, "but only to
defend it when he has won it. If God so wills I shall be welcomed with
open gates: otherwise there will be burying ere nightfall."

In this fashion he rode steadfastly toward the silent burg. Now he was
within a stone's throw of it, and no spear had been launched; now he
was before the massive oaken gate. Suddenly it swung open and a man came
out. He was a short, square fellow who limped, and, half hidden by his
long hair, a great scar showed white on his forehead.

"In whose name?" he asked in the English tongue.

"In the name of our lord the King and the Earl Ivo."

"That is no passport," said the man.

"In my own name, then,--in the name of Jehan the Hunter."

The man took two steps forward and laid a hand on the off stirrup. Jehan
leaped to the ground and kissed him on both cheeks.

"We have met before, friend," he said, and he took between his palms the
joined hands of his new liege.

"Two years back on the night of Hastings," said the man. "But for that
meeting, my lord, you had tasted twenty arrows betwixt Highstead and the
forest."

Part 3

"I go to visit my neighbours," said Jehan next morning.

Arn the Steward stared at his master with a puzzled face. "You will get
a dusty welcome," he said. "There is but the Lady Hilda at Galland, and
her brother Aelward is still at odds with your Duke."

Nevertheless Jehan rode out in a clear dawn of St. Luke's summer,
leaving a wondering man behind him, and he rode alone, having sent back
his men-at-arms to Ivo. "He has the bold heart," said Arn to himself.
"If there be many French like him there will assuredly be a new
England."