ring it to fulfilment."

"Vex not your mind on that," the prince answered, smiling. "We have had
a citizen from Montauban here this very day, who told us such a tale of
sack and murder and pillage that it moved our blood; but our wrath was
turned upon the man who was in authority over them."

"My dear and honored master," cried Nigel, in great anxiety, "I fear me
much that in your gentleness of heart you are straining this vow which
you have taken. If there be so much as a shadow of a doubt as to the
form of it, it were a thousand times best----"

"Peace! peace!" cried the prince impatiently. "I am very well able to
look to my own vows and their performance. We hope to see you both
in the banquet-hall anon. Meanwhile you will attend upon us with our
train." He bowed, and Chandos, plucking Sir Oliver by the sleeve, led
them both away to the back of the press of courtiers.

"Why, little coz," he whispered, "you are very eager to have your neck
in a noose. By my soul! had you asked as much from our new ally Don
Pedro, he had not baulked you. Between friends, there is overmuch of
the hangman in him, and too little of the prince. But indeed this
White Company is a rough band, and may take some handling ere you find
yourself safe in your captaincy."

"I doubt not, with the help of St. Paul, that I shall bring them to some
order," Sir Nigel answered. "But there are many faces here which are new
to me, though others have been before me since first I waited upon my
dear master, Sir Walter. I pray you to tell me, Sir John, who are these
priests upon the dais?"

"The one is the Archbishop of Bordeaux, Nigel, and the other the Bishop
of Agen."

"And the dark knight with gray-streaked beard? By my troth, he seems to
be a man of much wisdom and valor."

"He is Sir William Felton, who, with my unworthy self, is the chief
counsellor of the prince, he being high steward and I the seneschal of
Aquitaine."

"And the knights upon the right, beside Don Pedro?"

"They are cavaliers of Spain who have followed him in his exile. The one
at his elbow is Fernando de Castro, who is as brave and true a man as
heart could wish. In front to the right are the Gascon lords. You may
well tell them by their clouded brows, for there hath been some ill-will
of late betwixt the prince and them. The tall and burly man is the
Captal de Buch, whom I doubt not that you know, for a braver knight
never laid lance in rest. That heavy-faced cavalier who