ich we had
come was a rim of hills, not very high, but very rocky and steep,
otherwise the moor itself was flat; and through these hills was one
pass, guarded by our men, which pass led to the Hill castle of the
Lilies.

It was not wonderful, that of this moor many wild stories were told,
being such a strange lonely place, some of them one knew, alas to be
over true. In the old time, before we went to the good town, this moor
had been the mustering place of our people, and our house had done
deeds enough of blood and horror to turn our white lilies red, and our
blue cross to a fiery one. But some of those wild tales I never
believed; they had to do mostly with men losing their way without any
apparent cause, (for there were plenty of landmarks,) finding some
well-known spot, and then, just beyond it, a place they had never even
dreamed of.

"Florian! FIorian!" said Arnald, "for God's sake stop! as every one
else is stopping to look at the hills yonder; I always thought there
was a curse upon us. What does God mean by shutting us up here? Look
at the cattle; 0 Christ, they have found it out too! See, some of them
are turning to run back again towards Harald's land. Oh! unhappy,
unhappy, from that day forward!"

He leaned forward, rested his head on his horse's neck, and wept like
a child. I felt so irritated with him, that I could almost have slain
him then and there. Was he mad? had these wild doings of ours turned
his strong wise head?

"Are you my brother Arnald, that I used to think such a grand man when
I was a boy?" I said, "or are you changed too, like everybody, and
everything else? What do you mean?"

"Look! look!" he said, grinding his teeth in agony. I raised my eyes:
where was the one pass between the rim of stern rocks? Nothing: the
enemy behind us- that grim wall in front: what wonder that each man
looked in his fellow's face for help, and found it not. Yet I refused
to believe that there was any troth either in the wild stories that I
had heard when I was a boy, or in this story told me so clearly by my
eyes now.

I called out cheerily, "Hugh, come here!" He came. "What do you think
of this? Some mere dodge on Harald's part? Are we cut off?" "Think!
Sir Florian? God forgive me for ever thinking at all; I have given up
that long and long ago, because thirty years ago I thought this, that
the House of Lilies would deserve anything in the way of bad fortune
that God would send them: so I gave up thin