ht in my hall. They
were not churchmen's words."

Father Peter hesitated a moment, then throwing back his head:

"No," he said; "they were words militant, for the Church is born
militant; and she shall ride you as a plough-horse. Let me pass on from
my devotions."

"No, Father Peter," said my lord in a quiet voice, reaching one arm out
of the shadow. "You go where you have taught us that there is more
devotion than there is upon this earth. For three years you and your
crew have eaten, slept, and builded on my lands, until now my house is
but very little my own."

Father Peter took a step forward, but the long white arm barred him
across his thick throat. He strode one step farther forward, pushing the
arm aside, and, turning in the direction of my lord's voice, snarled
like a dog, calling him long names from books I never read. Whether my
lord was mad, or whether the humiliation of the past three years had
hurt his heart, I do not know, but he reached both arms around the
priest, and lifting him in the air, flung him face-downward against the
window, where it ran to the floor. I went to my lord and caught his
hands behind him. Then drawing long breaths, we walked silently toward
the black form at the window foot. Stooping, I put my hand over its
mouth and over its fat chest. There was a drawing up of legs and
something like a laugh, deep in the throat. Then Father Peter died.

* * * * *

The snow chunked under our weary feet and our staffs were useless in the
thaw, and ever behind, when the wind was still, and when there were no
pines near us to whisper as of safety, we could hear the sound of the
horses, and we would look at each other and step higher, and take longer
strides for a few yards. My lord was very weary, for he was a man who
loved warmth, and he could not bear the cold of the indifferent sky
above him and the unfeeling purity of the snow that lay about us.

Far away was the glimmer of sea. There was no dawn, but a streak of
yellow in the east, that grew and lengthened and widened, and then
became flame-coloured and then disappeared, and a little sun came from
the sea, but it had no light and the snow had glimmered more under the
moon. There were but two of us left. We had been seven at first, but of
the others three had turned back and two lay in the snow on our way. It
was the ninth day that we had left the hall; and ever the men of the
Bishop of Lund, three hundred