he sound
of their hoofs, and it was clear that his blindness was a cheat like all
the rest of him, for he ran swiftly through a field and so into a wood,
where none could follow him. They hurled their relics after him, and so
rode back to the blacksmith's the poorer both in pocket and in faith.

CHAPTER XXVII. HOW ROGER CLUB-FOOT WAS PASSED INTO PARADISE.

It was evening before the three comrades came into Aiguillon, There they
found Sir Nigel Loring and Ford safely lodged at the sign of the
"Baton Rouge," where they supped on good fare and slept between
lavender-scented sheets. It chanced, however, that a knight of Poitou,
Sir Gaston d'Estelle, was staying there on his way back from Lithuania,
where he had served a term with the Teutonic knights under the
land-master of the presbytery of Marienberg. He and Sir Nigel sat late
in high converse as to bushments, outfalls, and the intaking of cities,
with many tales of warlike men and valiant deeds. Then their talk turned
to minstrelsy, and the stranger knight drew forth a cittern, upon which
he played the minne-lieder of the north, singing the while in a high
cracked voice of Hildebrand and Brunhild and Siegfried, and all the
strength and beauty of the land of Almain. To this Sir Nigel answered
with the romances of Sir Eglamour, and of Sir Isumbras, and so through
the long winter night they sat by the crackling wood-fire answering each
other's songs until the crowing cocks joined in their concert. Yet, with
scarce an hour of rest, Sir Nigel was as blithe and bright as ever as
they set forth after breakfast upon their way.

"This Sir Gaston is a very worthy man," said he to his squires as they
rode from the "Baton Rouge." "He hath a very strong desire to advance
himself, and would have entered upon some small knightly debate with me,
had he not chanced to have his arm-bone broken by the kick of a horse.
I have conceived a great love for him, and I have promised him that when
his bone is mended I will exchange thrusts with him. But we must keep to
this road upon the left."

"Nay, my fair lord," quoth Aylward. "The road to Montaubon is over the
river, and so through Quercy and the Agenois."

"True, my good Aylward; but I have learned from this worthy knight, who
hath come over the French marches, that there is a company of Englishmen
who are burning and plundering in the country round Villefranche. I have
little doubt, from what he says, that they are those whom we