he renewed thanks which his
late guest endeavoured to give him.

The shop was open in front, a projecting penthouse sheltered it from the
weather; two or three bows lay upon a wide shelf in front, and several
large sheaves of arrows tied together stood by the wall. A powerful man
of some forty years old was standing in the middle of the shop with a
bent bow in his arm, taking aim at a spot in the wall. Through an open
door three men could be seen in an inner workshop cutting and shaping
the wood for bows. The bowyer looked round as his visitor entered the
shop, and then, with a sudden exclamation, lowered the bow.

"Hush, Giles!" the lady exclaimed; "it is I, but name no names; it were
best that none knew me here."

The craftsman closed the door of communication into the inner room.
"My Lady Alice," he exclaimed in a low tone, "you here, and in such a
guise?"

"Surely it is I," the lady sighed, "although sometimes I am well-nigh
inclined to ask myself whether it be truly I or not, or whether this be
not all a dreadful dream."

"I had heard but vaguely of your troubles," Giles Fletcher said, "but
hoped that the rumours were false. Ever since the Duke of Kent was
executed the air has been full of rumours. Then came news of the killing
of Mortimer and of the imprisonment of the king's mother, and it was
said that many who were thought to be of her party had been attacked and
slain, and I heard--" and there he stopped.

"You heard rightly, good Giles, it is all true. A week after the slaying
of Mortimer a band of knights and men-at-arms arrived at our castle and
demanded admittance in the king's name. Sir Roland refused, for he had
news that many were taking up arms, but it was useless. The castle was
attacked, and after three days' fighting, was taken. Roland was killed,
and I was cast out with my child. Afterwards they repented that they
had let me go, and searched far and wide for me; but I was hidden in the
cottage of a woodcutter. They were too busy in hunting down others whom
they proclaimed to be enemies of the king, as they had wrongfully said
of Roland, who had but done his duty faithfully to Queen Isabella, and
was assuredly no enemy of her son, although he might well be opposed to
the weak and indolent king, his father. However, when the search relaxed
I borrowed the cloak of the good man's wife and set out for London,
whither I have traveled on foot, believing that you and Bertha would
take me in and shel