d journey to
the scene of his murder.

From the hill of Weston Wood the travelers could see the long white band
which dipped and curved and rose over the green downland, its course
marked even in the hollows by the line of the old yew-trees which
flanked it. Neither Nigel nor Aylward had wandered far from their own
country, and now they rode with light hearts and eager eyes taking note
of all the varied pictures of nature and of man which passed before
them. To their left was a hilly country, a land of rolling heaths and
woods, broken here and there into open spaces round the occasional
farm-house of a franklin. Hackhurst Down, Dunley Hill, and Ranmore
Common swelled and sank, each merging into the other. But on the right,
after passing the village of Shere and the old church of Gomshall, the
whole south country lay like a map at their feet. There was the huge
wood of the Weald, one unbroken forest of oak-trees stretching away to
the South Downs, which rose olive-green against the deep blue sky. Under
this great canopy of trees strange folk lived and evil deeds were done.
In its recesses were wild tribes, little changed from their heathen
ancestors, who danced round the altar of Thor, and well was it for the
peaceful traveler that he could tread the high open road of the chalk
land with no need to wander into so dangerous a tract, where soft clay,
tangled forest and wild men all barred his progress.

But apart from the rolling country upon the left and the great
forest-hidden plain upon the right, there was much upon the road itself
to engage the attention of the wayfarers. It was crowded with people.
As far as their eyes could carry they could see the black dots scattered
thickly upon the thin white band, sometimes single, sometimes several
abreast, sometimes in moving crowds, where a drove of pilgrims held
together for mutual protection, or a nobleman showed his greatness by
the number of retainers who trailed at his heels. At that time the main
roads were very crowded, for there were many wandering people in the
land. Of all sorts and kinds, they passed in an unbroken stream before
the eyes of Nigel and of Aylward, alike only in the fact that one and
all were powdered from their hair to their shoes with the gray dust of
the chalk.

There were monks journeying from one cell to another, Benedictines with
their black gowns looped up to show their white skirts, Carthusians
in white, and pied Cistercians. Friars also o