of travel
as beset all voyagers, and chiefly in time of war, I found a trading ship
at Berwick, and reached Bordeaux safe, after much sickness on the sea.
And in Bordeaux, with a very sore heart, I changed the links of my
mother's chain that were left to me--all but four, that still I keep--for
money of that country; and so, with a lighter pack than spirit, I set
forth towards Orleans and to my brother Robin.

On this journey I had good cause to bless Father Peter of the Abbey for
his teaching me the French tongue, that was of more service to me than
all my Latin. Yet my Latin, too, the little I knew, stood me in good
stead at the monasteries, where often I found bed and board, and no small
kindness; I little deeming that, in time to come, I also should be in
religion, an old man and weary, glad to speak with travellers concerning
the news of the world, from which I am now these ten years retired. Yet
I love even better to call back memories of these days, when I took my
part in the fray. If this be a sin, may God and the Saints forgive me,
for if I have fought, it was in a rightful cause, which Heaven at last
has prospered, and in no private quarrel. And methinks I have one among
the Saints to pray for me, as a friend for a friend not unfaithful. But
on this matter I submit me to the judgment of the Church, as in all
questions of the faith.

CHAPTER II--HOW NORMAN LESLIE MET NOIROUFLE THE CORDELIER, CALLED BROTHER
THOMAS IN RELIGION: AND OF MIRACLES WROUGHT BY BROTHER THOMAS

The ways were rude and long from Bordeaux town to Orleans, whither I had
set my face, not knowing, when I left my own country, that the city was
beleaguered by the English. For who could guess that lords and knights
of the Christian faith, holding captive the gentle Duke of Orleans, would
besiege his own city?--a thing unheard of among the very Saracens, and a
deed that God punished. Yet the news of this great villainy, namely, the
leaguer of Orleans, then newly begun, reached my ears on my landing at
Bordeaux, and made me greatly fear that I might never meet my brother
Robin alive. And this my doubt proved but too true, for he soon after
this time fell, with many other Scottish gentlemen and archers, deserted
shamefully by the French and by Charles de Bourbon, Comte de Clermont, at
the Battle of the Herrings. But of this I knew nothing--as, indeed, the
battle was not yet fought--and only pushed on for France, thinking to
take s