men say. It
was I. There is a little man, red like a fox, who came to a house on
Thorney where was I. He also is Saxon. And I, being drunken with much
wine, did boast to this one of my lord's greatness, and of the feasts
which were made within this house, and the wealth which was herein. And
when I was sober, after many hours, one told me of what I had done, and
of how this red Saxon was gone to set his fellows upon my lord. So I
rode until my horse fell with me and died, but I was too late to bring
warning to my lord. When I reached this house last night, it was
surrounded, with the door beaten down and men swarming within. So I,
being Saxon, and not suspected in the dark, entered, shouting, with
others. And in my lady's chamber found I that red Wulf, who is no wolf,
but a sly thieving fox, and tried to slay him. But he got away. I am my
lord's man."

"It is well that you have told me this," said Eudemius. "At sunset you
shall be crucified. Go."

Wardo crossed his arms before his face and went.

When his work about the house was done, Marius entered softly the room
where Varia lay, tended by Nerissa. The old woman slipped away, and
Varia held out a slim hand to him in one of her sudden and unaccountable
moods of coquetry. He kissed it gallantly.

"How fares my lady?"

Varia shivered.

"I do not wish to think of it! Were it not for Wardo--"

"Ay, that is true," said Marius, misunderstanding. "Well, by this night
his fault will be punished. But how know you of what Wardo hath done?"

"How?" she echoed in surprise. "Was it not my life he saved? And what is
he to be punished for? What hath he done?"

"Naught that in the least would interest thee," he told her.

"He shall not be harmed," she said firmly. "He saved me from two great
men and one little one who would have slain me, and he is not to suffer
for it."

"Now this is something new. Dost know, sweeting, that had it not been
for this knave Wardo, no great men nor little would have come upon thee?
It was he who betrayed us, and it is right that he should suffer for
it."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"He saved my life, and I will not have him suffer! What is to be done to
him this night?"

He tried to put her off.

"Never mind him, sweet one. Think of him no more."

But she repeated stubbornly:

"What is to be done to him this night?" She glanced at him, one of her
strange and sidelong glances. "Is he to be--crucified?"

Marius started in spite