re in
the habit of infringing. We shall be finely helped, if the churl
Saxons should have realized your Grace's vision, of converting feudal
drawbridges into gibbets; and yonder bold-spirited Cedric seemeth one to
whom such an imagination might occur. Your Grace is well aware, it will
be dangerous to stir without Front-de-Boeuf, De Bracy, and the Templar;
and yet we have gone too far to recede with safety."

Prince John struck his forehead with impatience, and then began to
stride up and down the apartment.

"The villains," he said, "the base treacherous villains, to desert me at
this pinch!"

"Nay, say rather the feather-pated giddy madmen," said Waldemar, "who
must be toying with follies when such business was in hand."

"What is to be done?" said the Prince, stopping short before Waldemar.

"I know nothing which can be done," answered his counsellor, "save that
which I have already taken order for.--I came not to bewail this evil
chance with your Grace, until I had done my best to remedy it."

"Thou art ever my better angel, Waldemar," said the Prince; "and when
I have such a chancellor to advise withal, the reign of John will be
renowned in our annals.--What hast thou commanded?"

"I have ordered Louis Winkelbrand, De Bracy's lieutenant, to cause his
trumpet sound to horse, and to display his banner, and to set presently
forth towards the castle of Front-de-Boeuf, to do what yet may be done
for the succour of our friends."

Prince John's face flushed with the pride of a spoilt child, who has
undergone what it conceives to be an insult. "By the face of God!"
he said, "Waldemar Fitzurse, much hast thou taken upon thee! and over
malapert thou wert to cause trumpet to blow, or banner to be raised, in
a town where ourselves were in presence, without our express command."

"I crave your Grace's pardon," said Fitzurse, internally cursing the
idle vanity of his patron; "but when time pressed, and even the loss of
minutes might be fatal, I judged it best to take this much burden upon
me, in a matter of such importance to your Grace's interest."

"Thou art pardoned, Fitzurse," said the prince, gravely; "thy purpose
hath atoned for thy hasty rashness.--But whom have we here?--De Bracy
himself, by the rood!--and in strange guise doth he come before us."

It was indeed De Bracy--"bloody with spurring, fiery red with speed."
His armour bore all the marks of the late obstinate fray, being broken,
defaced, and stained w