made for
them, and to manage to find their way back to their country. For himself,
he had little hopes of liberty, and scarcely more of life. The hatred of
the baron towards the English would now be heightened by the daring act
of insult to the arms of Austria, and this would give a pretext for any
deed of violence which might be wrought.

Cuthbert was, after a short confinement, brought before the lord baron of
the place, in the great hall of the castle.

"Who art thou, sir," the noble exclaimed, "who darest to disturb the
marriage procession of my daughter, and to insult the standard of the
emperor my master?"

"I am Sir Cuthbert, Earl of Evesham, a baron of England," Cuthbert said
fearlessly, "and am travelling homeward from the Holy Land. My garb as a
crusader should protect me from all interruption; and the heedless
conduct of my retainer was amply justified by the insult offered to the
arms of England. There is not one of the knights assembled round you who
would not in like manner have avenged an insult offered to those of
Austria; and I am ready to do battle in the lists with any who choose to
say that the deed was a foul or improper one. In the Holy Land, Austrians
and English fought side by side; and it is strange indeed to me that on
my return, journeying through the country of the emperor, I should find
myself treated as an enemy, and see the arms of King Richard exposed to
insult and derision by the burghers of this city."

As Cuthbert had spoken, he threw down his mailed glove, and several of
the knights present stepped forward to pick it up. The baron, however,
waved them back.

"It is no question," he said, "of honourable fight. This is a follower of
the murderer of my good cousin of Montferat, who died under the hands of
assassins set upon him by Richard of England."

"It is false!" Cuthbert shouted. "I denounce it as a foul lie, and will
maintain it with my life."

"Your life is already forfeited," the baron said, "both by your past
connexion with Richard of England and as the insulter of the arms of
Austria. You die, and to-morrow at noon your head shall be struck off in
the great square before my castle."

Without another word Cuthbert was hurried off to his cell, and there
remained, thinking moodily over the events of the day, until nightfall.
He had no doubt that his sentence would be carried out, and his anxiety
was rather for his followers than for himself. He feared that they would
ma