s my honor to pay. It lies not on your shoulders,
however,--" his gravity gave way to his gay smile,--"if it is more
pleasant for you not to enter the city, you may ride back to the
hostelry we passed, and await me in its shelter."

The old cniht's courage was too well approved to require any defence.
Contenting himself with an indignant grunt, he reined back to his
place at the head of the dozen armed servants who formed the Etheling's
safeguard, and the young lord galloped on between the bare fields,
humming absently under his breath.

"Poor bantling!" he was thinking compassionately. "I shall be right glad
to get sight of him again. I hope he will not betray himself in his joy
when he sees me. Anything like showing that one is fond of him is apt to
turn him a little soft."

None of these undercurrents was visible in his face however, when,
having left his escort in one of the outer courts, he stood at last in
the parlor of the Abbey guest-house.

"I am a traveller, reverend brother, journeying from London to
Worcester," he said with grave courtesy to the gaunt black-robed monk
who admitted him. "And my errand hither is to ask refreshment for myself
and my men, as we have been in the saddle since cockcrow."

"The brother whose duty it is to attend upon travellers is at this hour
in the Chapter House, with the rest of the household," the monk made
answer. "When he comes forth, I will acquaint him with your needs. Until
then, bide here, and I will bring you a morsel to stay your stomach."

Sebert smiled his satisfaction as the sandals pattered away. He had
foreseen this interval of waiting, indeed, he had timed his arrival
to gain it,--and it was his design to put it to good use. While he
swallowed what he wanted of the wafers and wine which were brought him,
he took measure of the reverend servitor, with the result that, as he
set down the goblet, he ventured a question.

"From the numbers and heaps of attendants I saw in the outer courts,
holy brother, it appears that this season of peace has in no way
lessened the tax on your generosity. Is rumor right in declaring the
Danish King to be one of the guests of your bounty?"

Either it was the agreeable presence of the young noble which relaxed
the Benedictine's austerity, or else the fact that Sebert had left half
his wine in his cup. The holy man answered with unwonted readiness.

"Rumor, which is the mother of lies, has given birth to one truth,
noble strang