death is always near us."

"Ay, madam," broke in Grey Dick, who could bear no more of it, "death
is always near to all of us, and especially so in Venice just now.
Therefore, I pray you tell me--in case we should live and _you_ should
die, you and all about you--whether you have any commands to give as
to what should be done with your gold and articles of value, or any
messages to leave for friends in England."

Then, having uttered this grim jest, Dick took his master by the arm and
drew him through the door.

Afterward, for a reason that shall be told, he was sorry that it had
ever passed his lips. Still in the boat Sir Geoffrey applauded him,
saying that his lady's melancholy had grown beyond all bearing, and that
she did little but prate to him about his will and what colour of marble
he desired for his tomb.

After a journey that seemed long to Hugh, who wished to have this
business over, they came to the Place of Arms. Their route there,
however, was not the same which they had followed on the previous night.
Leaving the short way through the low part of the town untraversed, they
rowed from one of the canals into the harbour itself, where they were
joined by many other boats which waited for them and so on to the quay.
Hugh saw at once that the death ship, _Light of the East_, was gone, and
incautiously said as much to Sir Geoffrey.

"Yes," he answered, "one of my rowers tells me that they have towed her
to an island out at sea, since the stench from her holds was more than
could be borne. But how did you know that she lay at this particular
quay, Sir Hugh?"

"I thought you said so," he answered carelessly, adding, to change the
subject: "Look, our fray will not lack for spectators," and he pointed
to the thousands gathered upon the great tilting-ground.

"No, no, all Venice will be there, for these people love a show,
especially if there be death in it."

"Mayhap they will see more of him than they wish before all is done,"
muttered Grey Dick, pausing from the task of whetting his axe's edge
with a little stone which he carried in his pouch. Then he replaced the
axe in its hanger, and, drawing Hugh's sword from its sheath, began to
give some final touches to its razor edge, saying: "Father Sir Andrew
Arnold blessed it, which should be enough, but Milan steel is hard and
his old battle blade will bite none the worse for an extra sharpening.
Go for his throat, master, go for his throat, the mail is alway