ng and irritating to them to note the popularity of these lads
with the rustics. Any success of theirs was rewarded by loud shouting
and applause, whilst no demonstration of satisfaction followed any feat
performed by those wearing the livery of Mortimer. And if the lads
scored a triumph over any of these latter, the undisguised delight of
the beholders could not pass unnoticed by the vanquished.

Altogether there were so much jealousy and ill will aroused that
little scuffles between the followers of Chad and Mortimer had
already taken place in more than one part of the field. Warbel was
getting very uneasy, and had persuaded Edred to use his influence
with his brothers to return home before any real collision should
have occurred, when a great tumult and shouting suddenly arose to
interrupt the whispered colloquy, and Edred saw a great rush being
made in the direction of the oak tree, where the hunchback preacher
had been keeping his station the whole day long, always surrounded
by a little knot of listeners.

Shouts and yells were filling the air, the voices being those of
Mortimer's following.

"A Lollard, a Lollard! A heretic! Down with him! Away with him! To
the fire with him! A Lollard, a Lollard!"

A deep flush overspread Edred's face. He made a spring forward; but
Warbel laid a detaining hand upon his arm.

"It is no case for us to interfere in," he said, with clouded brow.
"If they have a heretic to deal with we must not meddle. It is not
England's way for a score to attack one; but we must not interpose
betwixt Mortimer and a heretic. That would be too much peril."

But almost before the man had done speaking Edred broke away,
crying out excitedly: "My brothers, my brothers! they are there in
the thick of it!" and with a groan of terror and dismay Warbel
recognized the voice of Bertram raised in angry scorn.

"Stand back, you cowards! Who ever heard of fifty men against one,
and he a cripple? The first who touches him I strike dead. A
heretic! Pooh! nonsense. He is but a poor travelling peddler with
his pack. See, here is the pack to speak for itself. For shame to
mar a merry holiday in this unmannerly fashion! No; I will not give
him up! Ye are no better than a pack of howling, ravening wolves. I
am the Lord of Chad, and I will see that no violence is done this
day. Back to your sports, ye unmannerly knaves. Are ye fit for
nothing but to set upon one helpless man and worry him as dogs
worry their he