ht a seat at his right hand, and to Cedric a place upon
his left.

"Pardon my freedom, noble sirs," he said, "but in these glades I am
monarch--they are my kingdom; and these my wild subjects would reck but
little of my power, were I, within my own dominions, to yield place to
mortal man.--Now, sirs, who hath seen our chaplain? where is our curtal
Friar? A mass amongst Christian men best begins a busy morning."--No one
had seen the Clerk of Copmanhurst. "Over gods forbode!" said the outlaw
chief, "I trust the jolly priest hath but abidden by the wine-pot a
thought too late. Who saw him since the castle was ta'en?"

"I," quoth the Miller, "marked him busy about the door of a cellar,
swearing by each saint in the calendar he would taste the smack of
Front-de-Boeuf's Gascoigne wine."

"Now, the saints, as many as there be of them," said the Captain,
"forefend, lest he has drunk too deep of the wine-butts, and perished by
the fall of the castle!--Away, Miller!--take with you enow of men,
seek the place where you last saw him--throw water from the moat on the
scorching ruins--I will have them removed stone by stone ere I lose my
curtal Friar."

The numbers who hastened to execute this duty, considering that an
interesting division of spoil was about to take place, showed how much
the troop had at heart the safety of their spiritual father.

"Meanwhile, let us proceed," said Locksley; "for when this bold deed
shall be sounded abroad, the bands of De Bracy, of Malvoisin, and other
allies of Front-de-Boeuf, will be in motion against us, and it were well
for our safety that we retreat from the vicinity.--Noble Cedric," he
said, turning to the Saxon, "that spoil is divided into two portions; do
thou make choice of that which best suits thee, to recompense thy people
who were partakers with us in this adventure."

"Good yeoman," said Cedric, "my heart is oppressed with sadness. The
noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh is no more--the last sprout of
the sainted Confessor! Hopes have perished with him which can never
return!--A sparkle hath been quenched by his blood, which no human
breath can again rekindle! My people, save the few who are now with me,
do but tarry my presence to transport his honoured remains to their last
mansion. The Lady Rowena is desirous to return to Rotherwood, and must
be escorted by a sufficient force. I should, therefore, ere now, have
left this place; and I waited--not to share the booty, for, so help