l.

Yet was not the feast so gay as might have been. Will Green had me to
sit next to him, and on the other side sat John Ball; but the priest
had grown somewhat distraught, and sat as one thinking of somewhat that
was like to escape his thought. Will Green looked at his daughter from
time to time, and whiles his eyes glanced round the fair chamber as one
who loved it, and his kind face grew sad, yet never sullen. When the
herdsmen came into the hall they fell straightway to asking questions
concerning those of the Fellowship who had been slain in the fray, and
of their wives and children; so that for a while thereafter no man
cared to jest, for they were a neighbourly and kind folk, and were
sorry both for the dead, and also for the living that should suffer
from that day's work.

So then we sat silent awhile. The unseen moon was bright over the roof
of the house, so that outside all was gleaming bright save the black
shadows, though the moon came not into the room, and the white wall of
the tower was the whitest and the brightest thing we could see.

Wide open were the windows, and the scents of the fragrant night
floated in upon us, and the sounds of the men at their meat or making
merry about the township; and whiles we heard the gibber of an owl from
the trees westward of the church, and the sharp cry of a blackbird made
fearful by the prowling stoat, or the far-off lowing of a cow from the
upland pastures; or the hoofs of a horse trotting on the pilgrimage
road (and one of our watchers would that be).

Thus we sat awhile, and once again came that feeling over me of wonder
and pleasure at the strange and beautiful sights, mingled with the
sights and sounds and scents beautiful indeed, yet not strange, but
rather long familiar to me.

But now Will Green started in his seat where he sat with his daughter
hanging over his chair, her hand amidst his thick black curls, and she
weeping softly, I thought; and his rough strong voice broke the silence.

"Why, lads and neighbours, what ails us? If the knights who fled from
us this eve were to creep back hither and look in at the window, they
would deem that they had slain us after all, and that we were but the
ghosts of the men who fought them. Yet, forsooth, fair it is at whiles
to sit with friends and let the summer night speak for us and tell us
its tales. But now, sweetling, fetch the mazer and the wine."

"Forsooth," said John Ball, "if ye laugh not over-m