o severe and rigid a Knight, and compared his
discipline with that of his brother, Sir Reginald, who, strict as he
might be, never grudged a poor man-at-arms a little merriment. "But as
to this Knight, one might as well serve a Cistercian monk!"

As to Le Borgne Basque, he betook himself to the buttery; and there, in
an undertone of great terror, began to mutter to his friend and ally,
Tristan de la Fleche, "It is all over with us! He is a wizard! Sir
Leonard Ashton was right--oaf as he was; I never believed him before;
but what, save enchantment, could have enabled him to recognize me
under this disguise, or how could he have gone straight to yonder door?"

"Think you not that he had some warning?" asked Tristan.

"Impossible, save from Clarenham, or from Ashton himself; and, dolt as
he is, I trow he has sense enough to keep his own counsel. He has not
forgotten the day when he saw this dainty young sprig rise up in his
golden spurs before his eyes. I know how it is! It is with him as it
was with the Lord of Corasse!"

"How was that, Thibault?"

"Why, you must know that Raymond de Corasse had helped himself to the
tithes of a certain Church in Catalonia, whereby the Priest who claimed
them said to him, 'Know that I will send thee a champion that thou wilt
be more afraid of than thou hast hitherto been of me.' Three months
after, each night, in the Castle of Corasse, began such turmoil as
never was known; raps at every door, and especially that of the
Knight--as if all the goblins in fairy-land had been let loose. The
Knight lay silent all one night; but the next, when the rioting was
renewed as loud as ever, he leapt out of his bed, and bawled out, 'Who
is it at this hour thus knocks at my chamber door?' He was answered,
'It is I.' 'And who sends thee hither?' asked the Knight. 'The Clerk
of Catalonia, whom thou hast much wronged. I will never leave thee
quiet until thou hast rendered him a just account.' 'What art thou
called,' said the Knight, 'who art so good a messenger?' 'Orthon is my
name.' But it fell out otherwise from the Clerk's intentions, for
Orthon had taken a liking to the Knight, and promised to serve him
rather than the Clerk--engaging never to disturb the Castle--for,
indeed, he had no power to do ill to any. Often did he come to the
Knight's bed by night, and pull the pillow from under his head--"

"What was he like?" asked Tristan.

"The Lord de Corasse could not tell; he only he