"Ah, madam!" cried the King, raising his glass and drinking again. "You keep good wine. I would not have wished for better; but tell me, what other guests have you in the house?"

"None, my lord," said the woman frankly. "There have been some of the country people at the market, but they have gone. There was an ordinary traveller too, earlier in the day. He came from somewhere in the south, I believe, but he has gone. You are the only guests I have, and I humbly hope that the meats are to your liking."

"Excellent, madam, excellent," said the King, looking at her fixedly. "Then we are quite alone?"

The woman met his eye without wincing, and bowed gravely.

"Yes, my lord; quite alone."

"Then we will have no one here while we stay, madam. I like to be undisturbed. Understand me, please. I take the whole place, and you can charge me what you please."

The woman made a grave courtesy, and retired to see to the next course she had prepared, wiping her brow as soon as she was outside.

"Some great French noble," she muttered, "travelling to London, to the Court perhaps. I wonder who he is. Yes," she said to herself excitedly, "and I wonder too who dared to enter that next room. It must have been that evil-looking traveller, that starveling. I believe he was a thief. It could not have been—Oh no, I know them all by sight."



CHAPTER TEN.

HOW LEONI LOST HIS EYE.

The meal was ended, and the King in the best of tempers, in that condition of mind which a good digestion produces, and ready to be friends with all the world.

"It is absurd," he said, "to let a scrap of paper which may mean nothing, and the curiosity of some country idiot who wanted to get a peep at me, interfere with our enjoying a comfortable rest in this excellent inn, and then going on fresh and well in the morning."

"Then you mean to stay here to-night, sir?" said Denis anxiously.

"Of course, boy."

Saint Simon shook his head as if in dissent, and the King glared at him.

"Did you hear me, sir?" he cried. "I said I mean to stay here to-night."

Saint Simon drew back respectfully, and the King, apparently mollified, continued:

"An excellent dinner. I suppose it was having such a bad night, and tossing about. It has made me feel quite drowsy." And as he spoke he settled himself down in a big chair and closed his eyes, while those of the two young men met in a wondering glance, and had they dared, as they thought of the night they too had spent, they would have burst into a roar of laughter.

But they contented themselves with just raising their brows, and then sat there for a time silent and thoughtful. They could not converse for fear of disturbing their lord and master, who now began to breathe rather heavily. And then a curious thing happened to each: Saint Simon began to think of the frightfully wearying night he had passed, and in an instant the wind was whistling and shrieking through the rigging, the sea rising with a heavy splash against the vessel's bows, to now and then deluge the deck, and the shivering horses in turn were straining their muzzles towards him in the darkness as if appealing to be relieved from their miserable state.

With Denis it was on this wise. He sat back in his chair watching the King for a few minutes, before fixing his eyes upon the wall just to his left. Then he too as if in a moment was down in the dark cabin with the dim lamp swinging to and fro, and the King sleeping heavily and giving forth that deep breathing sound, while a panel seemed to have formed itself in the bulkhead of the ship, where it began gliding sideways till there was room for a hand to appear, holding a tiny scrap of paper. This was passed through very slowly, to be followed by wrist, elbow, and then the whole of an arm so long that it stretched out like a spear-shaft, and the fingers reached the King's plate and thrust the paper underneath.

Then it gradually shrank back and grew shorter and shorter till it had all passed through the panel, which next closed of itself with a soft dull roar. Then Denis's eyes opened and he sat up with a start, realising the fact that he had been fast asleep and that the closing of the panel was only the King's deep snore.

"Having no sleep last night," the lad said to himself. "Enough to make anyone drowsy; that and the long ride. Why, Saint Simon's worse than I was. Nice pair of guards we make! Suppose instead of an arm a spear were thrust through that panel, an enemy might reach his heart."

Making an effort to shake off his lethargy, the boy stepped to where Saint Simon lay back sleeping soundly, and then, buckling on his sword the while, he bent over him, took his sword-belt from where it hung over a corner of the chair back, and thrust the cold hilt into the heavy sleeper's hand.

"Quiet, my boy," muttered Saint Simon, "and keep your nasty cold wet muzzle out of my hand. We shall get there some time," he added murmuringly, "and you are all right. I am not going away."

"Pst! Pst! Saint Simon! Rouse up, man! Don't go to sleep."

"Is it nearly morning, skipper?" grumbled the sleeper.

"No, and it isn't night," whispered Denis, with his lips close to the other's ear. "Quiet, or you'll wake the King."

"The King—the King! Vive le roi!" muttered Saint Simon.

"Stupid!" whispered Denis, laying one hand lightly over Saint Simon's lips and shaking him softly with the other. "Wake up. You're asleep."

"I kiss your Majesty's hand," babbled the sleeper softly.—"Eh? Asleep? Nonsense! Who's asleep?"

Then coming suddenly to himself, his hand closed tightly upon the hilt of his sword, and dashing away the fingers upon his lips he sprang fiercely to his feet, gazing wonderingly at his companion.

"Pst! The King!" whispered Denis.

"Eh? The King?" said Saint Simon, lowering his voice and glancing at the slumbering monarch. "I say, I haven't been asleep, have I?"

"Sound as a dormouse in December."

"Oh, horrible! Suppose he had woke up. But he would have found you on the watch."

"He wouldn't," said Denis, laughing silently, "for I went off as sound as you; and no wonder after such a night. What with that and the dinner, and this hot room, a weasel couldn't have kept awake. Here, let's go outside into the open air. I want to see if the horses have been well fed."

"Yes, of course. We ought to have thought of that before," whispered Saint Simon; and together they crossed softly to the door, passed out, and closed it behind them without a sound; and then, with a soft pleasant air greeting their cheeks, they passed along the open hall, caught sight of their hostess, who smiled a reply to their salute, and entered the great inn-yard, going to the far end and the big range of stables where they had left their steeds.

"Yes," said Saint Simon thoughtfully, in response to his own thoughts, "we must look after the horses, or else the chief will be wishing again that he had brought the old physic-monger. Nice time we should have of it if he were here! He always makes me uncomfortable with those eyes of his. I should like to catch him asleep some time."

"Why? What for?"

"To put it to the test. But you never catch a weasel asleep, and I believe old Leoni always snoozes with one eye open."

"I daresay; and I wonder which. But what do you mean about putting it to the test?"

"Whether he can see with that fixed eye of his."

"Whether he can see? Why shouldn't he?"

"Why, you know, of course?"

"Not I. Why, of course he can."

"Do you mean to say that you have been all this time at Court and don't know about that?"

"About what?"

"About that eye of his."

"I only know that it's precious ugly, and used to make me very uncomfortable, because I always felt as if I must look at it instead of at the other or at both at once."

"But don't you know what they say?"

"Who do you mean by 'they'?"

"Well, on; everybody. That he had the point of a sword jabbed into it once when he was fencing."

"Oh, I never heard that," cried Denis. "Then that accounts for its queer fixed look."

"Queer fixed look? It's horrible! I don't think that I am quite a coward; but old Leoni, when he fixes me with that eye of his, quite gives me the creeps."

"Well, he does look queer sometimes. But I say, this is refreshing after that hot room," said Denis. "There's a great garden yonder, and open fields. I should like to have a wander there for an hour or two."

"So should I," said Saint Simon; "but we must get back, in case his lordship wakes."

"Yes. It won't do for us to forget ourselves. Esquires ought never to want to sleep," said Denis; and then quickly, "nor grooms nor hostlers neither. Here, look at these two red-faced pigs."

He pointed on to the two men who had taken charge of and rubbed down their chargers upon their arrival, and who were now lying in a heap of straw, eyes shut, mouth open, and with their heavy faces looking swollen and red, breathing stertorously.

"Why, the brutes are drunk," said Saint Simon. "If their mistress knew, I fancy their stay here would be short, for she seems a thorough business soul."

"Sim!" cried Denis excitedly, gripping him by the shoulder.

"What's the matter, lad? Can you see a ghost or a nightmare in the dark corner there?"

"No, nor can I see our horses. They were haltered yonder. Where are they now?"

"Ah!" yelled Saint Simon, and snatching out his sword he made as if to prick the two sleeping grooms into wakefulness; but Denis flung his arm across his chest and cried angrily:

"Never mind them! The horses, man, the horses—the horses! They may be only in the field, led there to graze."

"You are mad!" cried Saint Simon angrily. "But yes; go on out through that farther door."

Denis was already making for an opening at the far end of the long low building, through which the afternoon sunshine streamed. Passing out, they found themselves in an inner yard, and beyond that there was a long open meadow, surrounded by a high hedge. But for the moment all was blank, and a feeling of despair made the young men's hearts sink as they mentally saw at a glance that their beautiful chargers had not excited attention for nothing—that they had been followed, horse-thieves had been at work, and that their noble steeds were gone.

"How shall we dare to face the King?" thought Denis, and the next instant he grasped the fact that there must be a lane beyond the distant hedge, for he just caught sight of the head of a man whose covering seemed familiar gliding along above the fencing, now seen, now disappearing, as if he were mounted on a walking-horse.

"Look! Not too late, Sim," he whispered. "They're over yonder. We must make for that lane. I'll go this way to cut that fellow off; you go to the left there, to meet him if I turn him back."

"Think the horses are there?" whispered Saint Simon hoarsely.

"Think!" cried Denis, in a low, harsh voice that he did not know as his own. "No: I am sure."

No further words passed, for, separating at once, Denis dashed off to the right to make for the far corner of the field, in the faint hope of reaching it and getting through into the lane in time, while Saint Simon ran swiftly to the left to get into the horse-track there and follow the marauders up.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

FIRST BLOOD.

Denis was in no trim for running, but he ran.

"This would wake anyone up," he muttered to himself. "The villain! The dog! I see it all: he must have given those two fellows drink till they were helpless, and then led the horses quietly away. Oh, if I had only been ten minutes sooner, instead of sleeping like the untrusty cur I was! I never dare face the King now! I'm running now as hard as ever I can run, not to bring back the horses, but to go right away. I never dare show my face before him again. Here," he thought, "am I to go on whining like some foolish girl? I can—I will get there first, in time to stop him. I never used my sword in earnest yet, but if I can only get face to face with that insolent hound I'll make him bleed, or he shall me. Too late! Too late!" he groaned, for the man's head had disappeared beyond the hedge.

"There must be some turning yonder, and he has gone; and once out there in the open country he, a man who rides with such horses as ours, it will be folly ever to expect to see him again."

The boy ran on, not growing breathless, but nerved as it were to the highest pitch of excitement, seeing nothing now, but reaching the hedge at last close by a rough gate, over which he vaulted lightly, to find himself in a winding green lane, but with nothing in sight to his left, nothing to his right, and no turning visible, and stretching right away.

"There hasn't been time for him to get to here, for the horses were only walking," he argued to himself, and then with sinking heart, "Oh!" he ejaculated, half aloud. "Perhaps it was only my mistake. I jumped at the conclusion that it was the man we saw."

There was nothing for it but to continue along the lane till he met Saint Simon, and then he felt that they must go back to the inn and rouse people to a pursuit.

He began running at a gentle trot now, to husband his strength for what might come, when all at once his heart seemed to give a violent leap and then stand still; for coming round a bend he caught sight of the black, heavily maned head of the King's horse, and then of the soft, pointed cap of the horse-dealer whom he had credited with the theft.

He was not looking forward, but bending over to his right, evidently doing something to the rein of another horse he was leading—Denis's own—while, in the middle of the three abreast, he was mounted on Saint Simon's. The three horses were fully in sight some fifty yards away, just as the man sat up again and began to urge them on from their walk, when he suddenly caught sight of Denis in the act of drawing his sword in the middle of the lane to bar his way.

The effect was to make him pull up short, and then with a cry to the horses he swung them round and set off back at a canter, to disappear round the bend directly after, with Denis running far in his rear.

"Now," panted the lad, "if Saint Simon has only done his work we have him between us." And he tried to utter a prolonged whistle, which he hoped might reach his charger's ear; but he had not breath to give more than the faintest call.

"Oh, if I could only run ten times as fast!" he groaned. "I know what he'll do. He will get them into a gallop, and ride my poor comrade down. If I were only at his side! And I seem to crawl!"

But he was running pretty fast, though to his misery he heard the dull thud, thud of the cantering horses grow fainter and fainter till it seemed to die right away.

"Sim's let them pass him," he groaned piteously. "No! No! No!" he literally yelled. "They are coming back! Saint Simon's turned them, and it will be my chance after all."

For still invisible, after the thudding of the hoofs had quite died out, the sounds came again; then louder, louder, and louder still, coming nearer and nearer, till all at once the noble animals swept into sight again round the curving lane, galloping excited and snorting, Saint Simon's horse right in the centre being urged forward by the rider, while the other two hung away right and left to the full extent of their reins. While perfectly unconscious of his peril, thinking of nothing but checking the headlong gallop, the lad stood with extended blade right in the middle of the lane.

It seemed an act of madness. Certainly he was a well-built youth, accustomed to athletic exercises, but as a barrier to three fine chargers urged by the rider of the centre one forward at a hand gallop, and armed only with a long thin Andrea Ferrara blade, he seemed but a fragile reed to stem the charge. But the unexpected happens more often than the reverse, and it was so here. One minute the horses were tearing along as far apart as the reins would allow; the next they seemed to have passed over the brave youth, and went galloping down the lane at increasing speed, leaving Denis flat upon his back in the middle of the road and his sword-arm outstretched in a peculiar way above his head, with the keen blade pointing in the direction taken by the steeds.

He lay perfectly motionless for some moments as if dead, while the horses tore on with the rider bending forward over his mount's neck till they had gone about a couple of hundred yards, when the man suddenly began to sway in his saddle to right, then to left, recovered himself, to sit upright for a few moments, and then with a sudden lurch went headlong down, to fall with a thud in the grassy track, roll over once or twice, and then begin to crawl to the hedge on his left, creep painfully through a gap, and disappear; while the horse he had ridden stopped short, like the well-trained beast he was, and turned to follow his late rider towards the hedge, snuffling and snorting in alarm.

The others continued their gallop for some seventy or eighty yards before, missing the guidance and companionship of their fellow, they too stopped short, to utter a low whinnying neigh, which was answered from behind and drew them trotting back to the halted beast.

By this time the marauder had disappeared, and the three chargers seemed to hold a consultation, uttering low whinnying neighs, and then, as if moved by one impulse, they trotted back slowly to where Denis lay with his head towards them, apparently dead. As they stopped short the youth's charger lowered its muzzle to begin to snuff at his face, when all at once the lad made a sudden movement to jerk back his outstretched arm into a more natural position, making his bright rapier describe an arc in the air, giving forth a bright flash in the afternoon sunshine and making a whistling sound like the lash of a whip. The consequence was that all three chargers started violently, to move off for a short distance; but as the lad was motionless again they stopped short and began to return, led by their companion, which seemed drawn to its fallen master. But before it could reach him there was the sound of feet, and Saint Simon came panting up to the group.

"Hah!" he ejaculated breathlessly, as he dropped on one knee by Denis's side. "Don't say you are hurt, lad! Not wounded, are you? Ah! There's blood upon his sword! Denis, lad, where are you wounded? For Heaven's sake speak! Oh, my poor brave lad! He's dead—he's dead!"

The drops that started to his eyes were a brave man's tears, blinding him for the time being as they fell fast, while he eagerly felt Denis's breast and neck, ending by unfastening his doublet and thrusting his hand within to feel for the beatings of his heart.

Those hot blinding tears fell fast, several of them upon Denis's upturned face, and at the fourth the nerves therein twitched; at the fifth there was a quick motion; and when six and seven fell together the lad's left hand came up suddenly to give an irritable rub where he felt a tickling sensation; and he opened his eyes, stared hard and blankly for some moments in the countenance so near his own, and exclaimed angrily:

"What are you doing?"

"Ah!" ejaculated Saint Simon, with a cry of joy. "Then the horses were worth winning back, after all."

"Horses? Winning?" faltered Denis wonderingly; and then as his companion snatched a hand from his breast, he cried again impatiently, "Here, what are you doing to my face?"

Saint Simon dashed his hand hastily across his own, his already ruddy countenance glowing of a deeper red, as he stammered out confusedly:

"Drops—perspiration—I have been having such a run."

"Drops? Run? My head's all of a buzz. Who ran? What have you been doing to my neck?" continued the lad, passing his left hand across his throat. "Something seemed to jerk across me just here. Ah, how it hurts!"

He made an effort then to raise his sword-arm, but it fell back upon the grass.

"Here, my shoulder's bad too," he cried. "Just as if my arm was wrenched out of the socket." Then as his wandering eyes fell upon his horse, "Oh!" he cried, "I understand now. I have been thrown."

"Never mind now," cried Saint Simon, in a choking voice, as he mastered the hysterical emotion that had seized upon him. "You're alive, boy, and we have saved the horses, and our credit with the—with the—"

"Comte," said Denis faintly. "I am beginning to recollect now. Here, where's that ruffian who was galloping away?"

"You've killed him, I suppose," cried Saint Simon, "for there's blood upon your sword. How was it, boy?"

"I don't know," said Denis dreamily; and then in an excited voice, "Yes, I do!" he cried. "I remember it all now. He came galloping along on the centre horse, with the others on each side at the full extent of their reins. I stood there to stop them, and he came right at me to ride me down. But I started a little on one side and thrust at him, when my horse's tight rein caught me right below the chin, and at the same moment my right arm was jerked upwards, and—that's all. Where is he now?"

"Gone," said Saint Simon, "and with your mark upon him too. Why, you brave old fellow! You, a mere boy! I daren't have faced three galloping horses like that. But you are not wounded?"

"My right arm seems to be gone. Is it broken, Sim?"

The young man began to feel it gently from shoulder to wrist, raised it, and laid it down again, while the boy bore it for a time, flinching involuntarily though again and again, till he could bear no more.

"Oh!" he groaned at last. "Don't! It's horrible! How you do hurt! I suppose I shall have no arm. It's horrible, Sim. I wish he had killed me out of hand."

"What! Why, my dear brave old fellow, it's only a horrible wrench, and will soon come right."

"Not broken?" cried the boy wildly.

"Broken? No, or it wouldn't move like that. Why, Denis, lad, when you gave point you must have run him through, and as he tore on your arm must have been wrenched round while he dragged himself or was carried away—of course, as the horses galloped on."

"But where is he?" cried Denis.

"I don't know. He wasn't here when I came up. He must have taken flight—I mean, crawled away, for he must have been wounded badly."

"But the horses are all right?" said Denis faintly.

"Yes; the brave beasts were as you see them now, standing round you. Ah! Stop a moment. What does this mean?"

He had been looking from side to side as he spoke, and caught sight of the crushed-down herbage which grew densely at the foot of the hedge, nettle and towering dock and hemlock looking as if something had crawled through; and, rising quickly, he found somewhat of a gap through which a person might have passed.

And he found ruddy traces which made him go on a few paces to where the hedge seemed thinner, so that he could force his way through, to return on the other side to the gap and see traces again in the grass where some one had crawled. This track he followed for a few yards to a spot where the long grass was a good deal trampled, and beyond that there were regular footprints, as if some one had risen and walked light across the field.

"Gone," said Saint Simon to himself; and he hurried back to the lane, where Denis was lying very still with his eyes closed, and the three horses ready to raise their heads from where they were calmly cropping the thick herbage and ready to salute him with a friendly whinny before resuming their meal.

"Well, Denis, boy," he cried, "how is it now?"

"Oh, a bit sick and faint, but I'm better. Have you found that brute?"

"No; he has gone right away. But we don't want him, unless he comes back to take revenge on you, and then I should like to see you use your sword again."

"Oh!" groaned Denis. "With an arm like this! I feel as if I should not lift it again for months."

"Bah! Nonsense, man—boy, I mean," said Saint Simon, with a laugh. "But I say, you must have given it to him somewhere. He was bleeding like a pig. I followed his track to where he must have sat down on the grass to bind up his wound. And there he stopped it, to rise and walk off, making good strides for a dead man. You gave him his pay for horse-stealing, and I'll be bound to say he feels more sore than you, my hero. Now then, how do you feel about getting up?"

"I feel sick, and as if I want to lie."

"But the—ahem!—Comte? He must be awake by now."

"Ah! I forgot him. Here, give me your hand—Thanks—Ah!—It hurts horribly—my throat's better—but my arm feels as though it had been screwed out of the joint. Would you mind sheathing my sword? I can't."

"I ought to have done it before," said Saint Simon; "but I say, lad, let go. Why, your fingers are grasping it with quite a grip."

"Are they?" said the boy faintly. "I don't feel as if I had any. Everything is hot and numb."

"Yes, you have had a nasty wrench. But that will soon be right. We soldiers don't mind unless we are killed. That's better. Here, let's wipe the blade," and he picked a bunch of grass. "I am not going to soil my kerchief with the ruffian's blood. That's better," he continued, as he returned the long thin blade to its sheath. "I'll give it a polish for you when we get back to the inn. Now do you think you could mount?"

"No, not yet," said the boy. "Give me a little time."

"Hours, lad; and here, let me arrange your scarf. Stand still. That's the way. Over your right shoulder—tied in a knot—now opened out widely here so that your arm can rest in it, like that. Those are soldiers' knots for a wounded limb.—That feel easier?"

"Not much," said Denis. "Yes, that's better. It seems to take the weight, and I'm beginning to feel that I've got one now."

"Oh, yes, it will soon come round," cried Saint Simon joyfully. "Now, boys, it's time you left off sullying your bits with grass," he continued, to the horses, as he unbuckled their reins, so that in leading one he led all three; and offering his right arm to Denis, who gladly took it and leant upon it heavily, he led the way back along the lane to where they had parted, and from thence into the great stable-yard and through the long stable to where the two hostlers were still sleeping heavily, not in the slightest degree roused by the trampling of the chargers upon the stone-paved floor.

"Now then," said Saint Simon, "shall we tie up the horses here again?"

"No," cried Denis sharply. "Look—through the door yonder. There's the Comte!"



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A WELL-MEANT WARNING.

Saint Simon glanced in the direction indicated, to see across the yard the King standing at the open doorway, talking, and evidently questioning their hostess, who was pointing towards the stable where the young men were.

"Now for a storm, Denis, boy, with plenty of royal thunder, and flashes of lightning from his kingly eyes. Bah! How hard it is to forget his rank! How are you now?"

"Oh, better. The sight of—the Comte seems to string me up."

"Come on, then, to make our excuses for the breach of duty, and take our three witnesses to back our words."

The young men led the chargers out through the low doorway into the yard and began crossing to where the King was drawing himself up with a stern look upon his countenance, his right hand upon his hip, his left upon his sword-hilt, which he kept on pressing down and elevating and lowering the long thin blade behind him, the afternoon sun throwing it out in a long dark streak from his shadow, giving him the effect of some monster wagging its wiry tail.

The hostess was still there, drawing back a little into the shadow of the comparatively dark doorway, a mingling of curiosity and sympathy detaining her to hear how her offending guests would fare.

She had not long to wait, for as the young men came up with the horses' hoofs clattering upon the paved way, "Now, gentlemen," was growled forth, "why am I left like this? And by whose orders have you brought forth those steeds?"

"What!" thundered the King fiercely, after hearing a brief narration of his followers' adventure; and turning to their hostess, who heard every word and stood loaning forward with agitated face and clasped hands, "And so, madam, you call this the safety of your inn! This, then, is the meaning of that warning paper which you have disavowed. Gentlemen, we seem to have settled in a nest of thieves. Have your valises placed at your saddles. I thank you for the way in which you have saved us from disaster at the beginning of our journey. We will ride on at once."

"Oh," ejaculated the hostess, "that it should come to this!" And ceasing to wring her hands she ran out past them and crossed the yard to the open stable-door, disappeared for just long enough to verify the young men's words by a sight of the sleeping grooms, and then came running back to where her guests were making preparations to continue their journey.

"Oh, my lord," she cried, "it is a disgrace and shame to my house that all this should have taken place. I pray your forgiveness."

"Indeed, madam!" said the King haughtily. "Tell my gentlemen there what there is to pay, and spare your words."

"But, my lord—"

"Silence, madam! I have spoken. Gentlemen—"

"But, my lord," she interrupted, "I will have trusty strong men to watch the stables and the house all night. This was the work of a stranger— some horse-thief from afar. It cannot occur again."

The King waved his hand, and turned to his followers.

"Gentlemen, you will not leave those horses a moment. Finish the preparations. Pay this woman, Saint Simon, and come and tell me when all is ready for the start."

Then turning his back upon the hostess, he strode into the house, fuming with rage and glowering fiercely at the group of servants whom he passed.

"Oh, woe is me!" sobbed the landlady, wringing her hands. "That this great misfortune should happen to such a noble lord as this! And this gallant boy too, hurt as he is! No, no, sir," she cried pettishly to Saint Simon, who approached her, purse in hand; "don't talk to me about money. I am thinking of the honour of my house. There, there," she cried, lowering her tone; and she caught Denis by the doublet and signed to his friend to come closer. "Your lord is angry," she said, "and he has just cause; but you two must speak to him and try to calm his wrath. I have made all preparations for his staying here to-night, and believe me, everything is safe. I will have trusty friends in, and not a soul here but you shall close an eye. You must sleep here to-night."

"Must, madam?" said Denis, forgetting his own sufferings in something like amusement at his hostess's pertinacity. "There is no must with our lord."

"Don't say that, my child," cried the woman anxiously. "He must give way to-night. I can see with a mother's eye that you are not fit to mount your horse. You are hurt, and need rest. Go to him and persuade him that he must stay."

"Madam, it is impossible," said Denis; "and leave me, please. You heard our lord's commands. We have our preparations to make."

As he spoke Denis glanced at Saint Simon, who had waved back a man who came to help, and was examining their horses' girths himself. Then, turning his eyes towards the doorway, he caught sight of the King returning, unnoticed by the landlady, who clutched at Denis's doublet again, and continued in a low, excited voice:

"You do not know, my child. Before long it will be dark."

"There will be a moon nearly at the full, madam," said Denis.

"Oh yes, yes, sir; if it is not clouded over; but the road from here towards London is through the forest and overhung with trees and—and," she added, in a whisper, "it is not safe."

"We have our swords, madam," said the youth; but he winced as he spoke, for his right arm seemed to give him a sudden warning twinge of his inability to use his weapon. "What do you mean about the road not being safe?"

The woman drew herself closer to him, and her ruddy buxom face became blotched with white.

"Bad men," she whispered. "Robbers and murderers have a stronghold in the forest, from which they come out to lay wait for rich travellers."

"Are they mounted men?" said Denis, as the King slowly drew nearer.

"Yes," she said, "with the best of horses."

"And do they steal horses too?"

"Oh yes," she whispered, with a shudder.

"Then that man who watched us here was one of them, was he not?" cried Denis excitedly.

The woman's jaw dropped, and the whiteness in her countenance increased.

"You saw that man, and you know!" cried Denis excitedly again.

The woman closed her lips and seemed to press them tightly together, as she said in a strange voice:

"You will be advised by me, and stay here, where you will be safe. I cannot—I will not—let you go."

"Indeed!" said the King fiercely, and the woman started as she realised that her guest had heard her words.

"Back into your own place, madam," continued the King. "I allow no one to tamper with my servants."

The woman shrank trembling back, for there was that in her guest's manner which she felt she must obey; and with her hands clasped to her breast as if to restrain her emotion, she went slowly into the house, the King watching her, till she turned her head, started on encountering his eyes, and then disappeared.

"There, it's plain enough, gentlemen. This woman is in league with a band of the rogues."

"I think not, sir," said Denis quickly. "I think she is honest, and her trouble real."

"Indeed?" said the King mockingly. "Wait till you have a few more years over your head, boy, before you attempt to give counsel to one who is used to judge mankind. Foolish boy! Can't you see that it is part of her work to trap travellers into staying at her house? Why, I believe if we rested here we should be plunged into a long deep sleep, and one from which we should never wake. Now, Saint Simon, you ought to have finished. I want to mount and go."

"The horses are ready, my lord," said the young man quickly.

"But you have not paid the woman."

"I offered her ample, sir, and she refused it."

"Bah! Leave that to me," said the King haughtily. "But what about you, Denis, boy? Don't tell me that you are too bad to mount, and force me to stay in this vile nest of thieves."

"No, sir. If Saint Simon will help me to mount, I'll manage to ride the long night through; but I fear if there is need that I could not fight."

The King hesitated, and stood striking his two stout riding gloves twisted together sharply in his left hand.

"Yes, you look hurt, boy. Perhaps it will be better that we should stay. We could hold one room, unless they burnt us out, and take turn and turn to watch."

"Oh no, sir; I am well enough to go," cried the lad. "Here, Saint Simon, give me a leg up. I am better now, and shall feel easier still when in the saddle."

"Keep back, Saint Simon!" said the King. "Let me be the judge of that. Here, your foot, boy? Do you hear me, sir? Quick!"

The lad raised his foot as the King impatiently clasped his hands stirrup fashion and raised the young horseman smartly, so that he flung his right leg over and dropped lightly into the saddle.

"Well," continued the King, as he watched his young esquire keenly, "can you sit there, or are you going to swoon?"

The boy smiled scornfully, and the King gave him an encouraging nod.

"You will do," he said, "and if you cannot use your arm you will be able to ride between us if we are attacked and charge the scoundrels when we make them run. Mount, Saint Simon. Have we left aught behind?"

"No, sir," replied the young man, and he hesitated a moment to let the King be first in the saddle; but an angry gesture made him spring into his seat, urge his charger forward, and hold the bridle till his master was mounted, pressed his horse's sides, and then reined up shortly in the great entry of the inn, level with the door at which the hostess was standing, pale and troubled, and backed up by the servants of the place.

"Here, woman," cried the King, drawing his hand from his pouch; "hold out your apron. Quick! Don't stand staring there."

The words were uttered in so imperious a tone that the woman involuntarily obeyed, and half-a-dozen gold pieces fell into her stiff white garment with a pleasant chink.

The next minute, in answer to a touch of the spur, the horses went clattering through the entry out into the main street, the noise they made arousing the two hostlers from their sleep to come yawning and staring to the open stable-door, while the hostess stepped out into the entry and hurried to the front with hand clasped in hand.

"Oh, that gallant boy," she muttered, with her face all drawn. "If I had only dared to tell them more plainly! But they would have marked me if I had, and it is as much as my life is worth to speak. Why does not our King put an end to these roving bands who keep us all in a state of terror and make us slaves?"



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

AN UNKNOWN LAND.

The ride out from the town was uneventful, save that the people hurried to their windows and doors to see them pass, and admire the beauty of their steeds. Then as the city gate was passed and they rode out into the open country, with the way before them seeming perfectly clear, the King cried cheerily:

"Hah! I can breathe freely now. I must tell my brother Henry that the road to his Court is a disgrace, and travellers' lives not safe. Now, in my kingdom of beautiful France every road to the capital from the seaports is—Why are you looking at me like that, Saint Simon?"

"Well, sir," said the young man bluntly, "I was thinking about two or three cases where people have been waylaid and plundered and—"

"Yes, yes, yes," said the King impatiently; "I think that there was a case or two, but surely we are better than this. Well, Denis, boy; how's the bad arm?"

"Very stiff, sir, and aches; but I don't mind now."

"Not you, boy! Too brave a soldier! Ha, ha, ha! I almost think that I can see it all. My faith! I would I had been there to have seen you, you stripling, standing sword in hand in that lane to meet that ruffian's charge with three horses abreast. And you wounded him too, and saved the beasts. I should like to see the young Englishman who would do a deed like that! Why, Saint Simon, you and I must look after our laurels. We ought to be proud of our companion, eh?"

"Oh, sir," shouted Denis, giving a cry of pain, for as he spoke the King had clapped him heartily upon the shoulder that was nearest to him— unfortunately the right.

"Tut, tut, tut!" cried the King, leaning towards him, for the lad turned ghastly white. "There, hold up, boy. I wanted to show you how pleased I was with the bravery of your deed, and I have only given pain."

"Not only, sir," said the lad quickly. "Your hand hurt me for the moment, but my K—lord's words of praise are thrilling still."

"Just saved yourself, boy," cried Francis; "for if you dare to say you know what till we are back again in my own fair France your punishment will be short and sharp." He gave Saint Simon a merry look as he spoke, and then rode gently on, sweeping the landscape with his eye and making comments from time to time. "Better and better," he said pleasantly. "My brother Henry has a goodly land. All this woodland landscape forms a pleasant place. Hah! but he should see my hills and forests about Rouen, with the silver river winding through the vale. But that is far away, and this is near, and it will pass if we do not meet the dangers that woman prophesied upon our road."

They rode on in silence for a time, just at a gentle amble, the King giving a shrewd look now and again at his young companion to see how he bore the motion of the horse.

It was a glorious evening, and they saw the sun sink like a huge orange globe; the soft, warm, summer evening glow seeming to rise and spread around them from the west.

There was a sweet delicious fragrance in the air, and the soft English landscape began gradually to darken from green to purple, and then to deeper shades, while as the glow in the west disappeared the eastern sky grew more pearly; but the indications of the rising moon were not as yet.

"Hah!" cried the King at last, speaking as if to two companions of his own rank enjoying with him a summer evening ride. "Here have I been so taken up with our late adventures that I have had no thought of what is to come. Our saddles are comfortable, and after that pleasant dinner and my nap I feel ready for anything. But there will come a time when we shall want to think of supper and of bed, for we can't go on riding all night even if we are undisturbed. Now then, Saint Simon, what have you to say?"

The young man slowly shook his head.

"Bah!" cried the King. "What a dumb dog you are! And I know nothing of the way. I begin to feel that we ought to have had old Leoni with us, after all. He has maps, and knowledge always ready in his brain; and he speaks these islanders' language better than they can themselves. But he would only have been in the way, and I wanted freedom. Here, Denis, boy, what have you to say? Where shall we sleep to-night?"

"I had scarcely time, sir, to mark down our course, and the only place I can recall is one called Hurstham."

"Ah!" cried the King. "What of that?"

"I know nothing, sir, except that there is a good road over hills and through forests, and that there is a castle there."

"Then that will do," cried the King. "Once within its walls we can laugh at thieves and murderers. There, boy, you have your task before you: lead us there."

"But I do not know the way, sir. Would it not be best to get a guide from the first village we ride through?"

"Excellent!" cried the King—"for him to lead us straight into the den of the forest outlaws."

"It would be his last journey, sir," said Saint Simon grimly, as he significantly touched the hilt of his sword.

"And what good would that do us," said the King, "if we never saw to-morrow's sun? Here, I must lead. Look out sharp, both of you, for the next guide-post or stone. I will warrant that those old Romans planted some of them beside the road, telling the way to London."

"Yes, sir," said Denis drily, "but it will soon be dark."

"Ah, well, we must chance everything. I don't believe that we shall find the road unsafe; but even if it is we must keep to it all the same. It will lead us somewhere, and—hah! here comes the moon!"

It was a welcome light for the travellers, who rode slowly on to ease their steeds, for as the King said, they had all the night before them, and sooner or later, even if they did not reach the castle, they were sure to pass upon this direct road to London some good town where they might venture to stay. But the miles seemed to grow longer, the country more hilly, wild and strange, and, in spite of all endeavours to keep bravely to their task, the two young men had the weight of the past night's watch upon their brains. The consequence was that just after crossing what seemed to be an open furzy down, and when the road, looking white in the moonlight, had turned gloomy and black, save where it was splashed by the silvery light on the trees of the forest patch into which they had passed, they began to nod upon their horses, and the King's voice grew as he talked into an incoherent drone.

Then they were wide awake again, for just in the darkest part, where the trees met together across the road, a shrill clear whistle rang out, which made all draw rein and listen to the sound of horses' hoofs clattering upon the hard road they had just traversed.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE WAR-CRY.

The whistle in front and the sound of following horsemen had but one meaning for Denis, and that was danger; and there was a movement common to nearly everyone in bygone days when danger was afoot, and that was to throw the right hand across the body in search of the hilt of the sword with which every traveller was armed.

It was involuntary then that, upon hearing the whistle and the trampling hoofs, Denis tried to draw his sword, but only uttered a faint cry of pain, for nerve and muscle had during the past few hours stiffened and made him more helpless than before, so that his arm sank back into its sling, but with the hand sufficiently free to receive the reins, which he passed across, thus leaving his left hand at liberty for his dagger.

"Hah!" said the King. "They are not fools. They have chosen a likely place for their trap, and we have walked right in. Well, gentlemen, we don't surrender. Which is it to be—retreat or advance?"

"Advance!" cried the young men, in one breath, excitedly, and it sounded like one voice.

"Draw, then, and forward," cried the King. "You, Saint Simon, guard Denis on the left; I shall have the honour of forming his right flank. But no desultory fighting. We advance and keep together as one man with one aim—to pass through the enemy, however many they may be. Forward!"

Denis writhed at his helplessness, as in obedience to a touch of the spur the three horses sprang forward, kept in the centre of the dark road, and broke at once into a hand gallop; and for some fifty yards the way seemed perfectly clear.

Then all at once the route was barred by a number of men who sprang from each side, yelling and shouting, while from behind the trampling of horses came nearer, and the advance was checked; for apparently with reckless bravery men rushed out of the darkness to seize the horsemen's reins, with the result that the King struck at the nearest a downward blow with the hilt of his sword, which took effect full in the man's face, so that he sank with a groan, while, drawing back his arm, the King's second movement was to give point, running the next man through the shoulder, and he fell back.

Saint Simon's actions were much the same, but in reverse, for he thrust first, and equally successfully; while Denis sat supine, the feeling upon him strong that he was a helpless heavy log to his companions, and in their way.

So successful was the resistance to the attack that for the moment the way seemed open, and the boy's breast began to throb with excitement as he felt that they had won. But they had only dealt with four, and as they were urging on their horses once again at least a dozen were ready to stay their progress, while with a loud shout of triumph four mounted men came up in their rear to hem the trio in.

"Give point! Give point!" roared the King, setting the example, and every thrust seemed to tell; but where one enemy went down there seemed to be three or four more to take his place, and in the darkness there was a melee of writhing, struggling men hanging on to the panting, snorting horses and regardless of the keen steel, striving to drag the wielders down.

"It's all over with us," thought Denis, and a chill of despair seemed to clutch his heart, as he rose in his stirrups and, dagger in hand, strove, but in vain, to give some aid to his two defenders, who were growing breathless with their exertions and hampered and overpowered by their foes.

The horses, too, were becoming frantic, and reared and plunged, greatly to the riders' disadvantage, but advantage too, for more than one of the assailants fell back from the blows struck by their hoofs, to be trampled the next moment under foot; and then amidst yells, threats, and savage cries, there was a fresh shout of triumph, for on either side the defenders' arms were held, and but for the way in which the well-trained horses pressed together, both the King and Saint Simon would have been pulled from their saddles.

Just at this crucial moment, in the midst of the lull which followed the triumphal yell, there was the loud trampling of hoofs upon the hard road in front, the shouting of a war-cry—"France! France!"—seemed to cut through the darkness, and with a rush a single horseman looking like a dark shadow dashed down upon the group, scattering, so to speak, with wondrous rapidity a perfect shower of thrusts, making those who pinioned King and courtier fall back, some in surprise and dread, others in agony or in death, leaving their prisoners at liberty to assume the offensive once again and aid their new supporter in his gallant efforts upon their behalf.

"Right!" he shouted, in a strange shrill voice. "About at once! Now, all together, charge!" And, taking advantage of the temporary astonishment of the enemy, the new-comer ranged himself by the King's side, and all setting spurs to their horses, the brave beasts shook themselves free from those who grasped their reins, and together broke into a gallop, trampling down and driving to the right and left those who, half-hearted now, held fast and strove to stop their way.

The attempt was vain, and away the little party went along the dim, shadowy road for about a hundred yards, when the stranger's voice rose above the trampling hoofs in the order to halt and turn, followed by a louder command to charge back once more.

They needed no urging on the part of the riders, for the horses, excited now to the fullest extent, recognised the orders, and broke into a gallop once again, dashing back over the ground they had just traversed towards where men were gathering together in obedience to excited voices and preparing to once more stop their way. For the danger was not yet over; the first charge had driven the horsemen, who had so far not been seen but heard, into a headlong flight; but at the halt they had rallied again, and as the gallant little band of four had turned for their second charge were coming on in full pursuit.

"Gallop!" yelled their new ally, and even in the wild excitement of those few moments, while he seemed borne here and there like the prisoner of his friends, the only help given being by the weight of his horse, Denis fell to wondering who the gallant Englishman could be that had come so opportunely to their aid; for there was a something not familiar in the tones which, trumpet-like, gave forth their orders, but somehow strange in the way in which they seemed to raise echoes in his brain.

"Gallop!" he yelled again. "France! France!" And like a flash the question darted through the boy's brain, why should he use the battle-cry of France?

Momentary all this as, before reaching the little, dimly seen crowd that once more barred the way, the chargers attained their fullest speed; and then there were a few slight shocks as man after man went down in their half-hearted resistance, and the rest were scattered, the little line of horsemen passing through them, driving them here and there, and charging on in their headlong gallop forward beneath the overhanging trees which suddenly ceased to darken their way, for the gallant band had passed out into the full bright moonlight once again, and the sound of pursuit by the enemy's mounted men had died away.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE FRIEND IN NEED.

They must have gone a mile at full gallop before the King cried "Halt!"

As the beat of their horses' hoofs ceased he sat with raised hand as if commanding silence, listening; but the heavy breathing of the four steeds was the only sound that broke the silence of the glorious night.

"Forward slowly now," said the King quietly. "The danger is past for the moment, and we shall have good warning if they come on again, for it is not likely that they have thrown out a second detachment to take us if we escaped the first. Now, just one word—who is hurt? Denis, my brave lad, how is it with you?"

"You took too much care of me, my lord. I am only hot."

"Well done!" cried the King. "And you, Saint Simon?"

"A bit battered with blows, sir," replied the young man; "and I expect when the day dawns I can show some rags."

"No wounds?" cried the King.

"Not a scratch, sir."

"But what of you, sir?" cried Denis eagerly, "I am afraid you must have suffered badly."

"I have," said the King shortly. "I feel as if my beauty is spoiled by a blow one ruffian struck at my face. But he was the one who suffered," he added, with a low hiss suggestive of satisfaction. "But no more selfishness. Though I have left him to the last, it is not that I do not want to thank our gallant English preserver, who has given us the best of proofs that he is ready to welcome strangers to his shores. I don't know by what means you knew, sir, of our peril, or why you should think it worth your while to play the brave knight, and fight against such odds to rescue us from the spoilers, and perhaps from death. Pray give me your name, sir, that we three strangers may bury it deeply in our hearts as one of the most gallant islanders we shall ever meet."

"My name, your Majesty?" said the stranger quietly.

"What!" cried the King. "You know who I am?"

"As well as your Majesty knows his faithful servant," came now in familiar tones.

"Master Leoni!" cried all three, in a breath, the King's voice sounding loudest of all.

"Yes, Sire," said the owner of the name quietly, as if there were no such thing as excitement left in his composition, and instead of being a fighting man he was the most peaceable of souls. "Your Majesty, in the fullness of your confidence, thought you would not need your follower's services, but I feared that you would, and hence I came. You see, you did."

"But how—and mounted! How came you here? You bade us farewell at Fontainebleau a week ago."

"Yes, Sire; a week gave me plenty of time, as you travelled slowly, to get to the port two days earlier than you. I have been well before you all the time."

"Then that paper!" cried Denis excitedly. "It was you who placed that beneath the King's trencher at the inn?"

"I did, Master Denis," said Leoni quietly, "and I think the warning was needed. It would have been safer if his Majesty had taken it to heart, though I feared in his reckless bravery he would laugh at my warning, and so I kept watch and came on in advance."

"Then you knew that the road was haunted by folk like these?" said the King.

"Yes, Sire; I found that in a forest not far from here they have a gathering place, and are always on the look-out for rich travellers on the way to London. They have spies at the port and at the principal towns to give them warning, and I wonder that you escaped so far without the loss of your horses."

"Humph!" ejaculated the King sourly. "We should have lost them but for the brave action of young Denis here; but look you, Master Leoni," he continued sternly, "I gave you my commands to keep watch and ward over my goods and chattels at my palace of Fontainebleau until my return."

"Your Majesty did," said Leoni humbly.

"And disobedience to my commands is treason, sir, and the punishment of that is death."

"Yes, Sire; but your royal life is the greatest of your possessions, and I felt that might be in danger. You gave me a free hand to do what was best in your service, and even if I have offended I deemed it my duty to save my sovereign's life even at the cost of my own. Your Majesty, I have no further defence to make."

"Hah!" said the King. "He has disarmed me, boys, and I as his master almost feel that I cannot order him to execution for such a crime as this. What say you, Denis, lad?"

"I say, sir," said the boy, laughing softly, "that this is England, sir, and that you are not King, but my Lord the Comte de la Seine, who has no power to inflict such a punishment as this."

"Hah!" said the King, chuckling. "And you, silent Wisehead Saint Simon, what is your judgement?"

"Oh, sir, I think Denis is quite right; but I should like to add one thing."

"Hah!" cried the King. "This fight has made you find your tongue, my lad. Now then, let's have what you think about Master Leoni's offence."

"I think, sir, that we had better get on a little faster, for I don't want another fight to-night."

"Neither do I," said the King, laughing softly, "for I am sore all over, and I should be miserable if it were not for the thought that this ruffian gang must have suffered far more than we. Why, Master Leoni, the point of your sword I could well believe must have been everywhere at once."

"A trick of fence, sir, merely a trick of fence," said Leoni quietly. "Your lordship knows how for years I have studied every Italian trick, and it comes easy and useful at a time like this."

"My faith, yes!" said the King, drawing a deep breath. "There, Master Leoni, I must forgive you this time; but don't offend again. Now then, before we drop into a canter, I believe you know the English roads by heart: can you act as our guide to-night?"

"I have studied them a little, sir, and been along here three times before."

"Then you can take us to a place of safety?"

"Yes, sir, I can; and you will pardon me when I tell you that four days ago I sent forward a trusty messenger to an old town some ten miles from here where there is a fine old manor-house, the home of a studious English nobleman of whom I asked for hospitality for the noble Comte de la Seine should he by any possibility on his journey to the English Court appeal to him on his way. I and Sir John Carrbroke have often corresponded upon matters of scientific lore, and you will be made welcome as my patron, you may be sure."

"Hah!" cried the King. "There seems to be no end to you, Leoni. You know everything, and are always ready at a pinch. Well, I must let you serve me this time, but to-morrow morning, mind, I shall be sore and stiff, and savage as a Compiegne wild boar, so you had better keep beyond the reach of my tusks when I order you back to France."

"I take your warning, sir," said Master Leoni, rising in his stirrups and placing his hand to his ear.

"Hah!" cried the King. "Are they coming on again?"

"No, sir; all is quiet, but we have many good English miles to ride, and it would be wise to keep our horses at a steady pace to get well beyond the outlaws' grasp, for you do not want to reach my old friend's manor and rouse his people up with a following of outlaws at our heels."

"There, I give up," said the King, "and I must give you your due, Leoni. You are the wisest man I know, and I am afraid that you possess a very ungrateful master. Forward, gentlemen, and let's get there, for I am beginning to grow boar-like and to long to stretch my sore and weary limbs in a good bed, if I can, or merely on a heap of straw. Here, Leoni, I suppose you have not brought any of that healing salve with which you have treated me more than once when I came to misfortune in the hunt?"

"By rights, sir, I am a chirurgien, or leech," said Leoni gravely. "On my travels a few simples and my little case are things I never leave behind."

These were almost the last words spoken during the ten-mile ride, the latter part being intensely silent, until Leoni drew rein upon the slope of a wooded hill and pointed across a little valley, where a silver streamlet flashed before their eyes, to the gables of a long low English manor-house whose diamond-shaped casements glittered like the facets of so many gems in a setting of ivy, full in the light of the unclouded moon.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE NEXT MORNING.

"Yes! Hallo! What is it?"

Denis started up upon his left elbow, gazing in a confused way at a glistening oaken door.

He was in a well-furnished room with tall narrow window through which the sun shone brightly, lighting up the furniture, and streaming across the bed in which he lay; but for some moments it did not light up his intellect, which was still oppressed with the impressions of a confused dream, half real, half imaginary, of chasing horses, being ridden down, fighting for life, and then galloping on and on all through the night, while as he stared at the door he was conscious of a heavy, dull, aching pain extending from his right hand right up his shoulder, and giving him sharp twinges every time he breathed.

"Some one called," he thought to himself, and as the idea passed through his brain a pleasant-sounding voice said in English:

"Breakfast directly. May I come in?" Then the door was thrown open, and a handsome, frank-looking English youth of about his own age came quickly forward into the sunshine, to stand gazing at the guest from the foot of the bed.

"I hope you slept well?" he said eagerly.

Denis looked at him admiringly, for there was something about the lad's face which attracted him.

"Oh yes," he said—"Oh no. It has been all a troubled dream. I got hurt yesterday, and my arm throbs horribly."

"Ah!" cried the new-comer. "I am very sorry. You are wounded?"

"No; I was in a bit of a fight with a man on horseback."

"You were? I wish I had been there!" cried the new-comer eagerly. "Well? did you beat him?"

"I think so. He ran away. But I had my arm nearly wrenched out of the socket."

"That's bad. You have had it seen to by a doctor, of course?"

"Oh no. It will get well. But who are you?"

"Oh, I'm Sir John Carrbroke's son Edward; but he always calls me Ned. I was so tired last night and slept so soundly that I didn't hear you and your friends come. Father woke me a little while ago and told me to come and see you and welcome you to the Pines. Glad to see you. You've just come from France, haven't you? But I needn't ask," continued the boy, smiling. "Anyone would know you were French."

Denis flushed a little.

"Of course I can't talk English like you," he said pettishly. "But you said something about breakfast."

"Yes. It will be all waiting by the time you are dressed."

"Then would you mind going—and—"

"Oh yes, of course; I'll go. Only I wanted to see our new visitor, and—but you said your arm was all wrenched."

"Yes. I have only a misty notion about how I managed to undress."

"Of course. It must have been very hard. Here, I'll stop and help you."

Denis protested, but the frank outspoken lad would not hear a word.

"Nonsense," he said. "I shall help you. I know how. I am a sort of gentleman in waiting at the Court."

"Indeed!" cried Denis, looking at him wonderingly.

"Oh yes. I haven't been there long. My father used to be just the same with the late King, and that made him able to get me there. It's only the other day that I left the great school—a year ago, though; and now," he added, laughing, "I am going to be somebody big—King Harry's esquire—the youngest one there. I say, isn't it a nuisance to be only a boy?"

"Oh no," said Denis, laughing, and quite taken by the friendly chatter of his new acquaintance. "One wants to grow up, of course; but I don't know that I ever felt like that."

"Perhaps not," said his companion, busily helping him with his garments; "but then you see you're not at Court where there are a lot of fellows who have been there for a bit, ready to look down upon you just because you're new, and glare at you and seem ready to pick a quarrel and to fight if ever the King gives you a friendly nod or a smile.—No, no: I'll tie those points. Don't hurt your arm—but wait a bit.—I am young and inexperienced yet, and they're too much for me, but I am hard at it."

He ceased speaking, but stood with his mouth pursed up, frowning, as he tied the points in question.

"I see you are," said Denis, "playing servant to me; and it's very good of you, for my arm does feel very bad."

"Good! Nonsense!" cried the lad merrily. "You'd do the same for me if I were visiting at your father's house, and crippled."

"That couldn't be," said Denis sadly. "I have no father's house—he's dead."

"Oh, I am sorry!"

"He was a soldier, and died fighting for the King."

"Hah!" said the other softly. "That's very pitiful; but," he added, with more animation, "it is very grand as well.—No, no, no: be quiet! I'm here, and what's the good of making your arm worse? You're a visitor; and you wouldn't like me to go away and send one of our fellows. I shall be a knight some day, I hope; and it's a knight's duty to fight, of course, but he ought to be able to help a wounded man. Now you're a wounded man and I'm going to help you, wash you and all, and I say, you want it too. You look as if you had been down in the dust. And what's this? Why, there's clay matted in the back of your neck!"

"Well," said Denis, smiling, "I am such a cripple I can't help myself, and so I must submit."

"Of course you must. I'll feed you too, if you like, by-and-by."

"But what did you mean," said Denis, to change the conversation, as he smilingly yielded himself to the busy helpful hands of his new friend.

"What did I mean? Why, to help you."

"No, no; I meant about those fellows riding roughshod over you and wanting to pick quarrels."

"Oh, I see. I meant, I'm waiting my time. Can you fence—use a sword well?"

"Not very, but I'm practising hard."

"Are you? So am I. We've got a French maitre d'armes at Court, and he's helping me and teaching me all he knows. He's splendid! He likes me because I work so hand, and pats me on the back, and calls me 'grand garcon' and dear pupil. Ah, he's a wonder. Only he makes me feel so stupid. He's like one of those magician fellows when you cross swords with him. Yes, it's just like magic; for when he likes he can make his long thin blade twist and twine about yours as if it were a snake and all alive; and before you know where you are it tightens round, and then twit, twang, yours is snatched out of your hand and gone flying across the room, making you feel as helpless as a child. Ah, you don't know what it is to feel like that. I say, hold still. How am I to wipe you? That's better."

"But I do know what it is to feel like that," cried Denis, as soon as he could get his face free from the white linen cloth his new friend was handling with great dexterity.

"You do?" cried the latter. "What, have you got a maitre d'armes over where you came from?"

"Yes, and he's here in this house now. You should have seen him in a desperate fight we had last night against about a score—"

"Of the road outlaws coming through the forest?"

"Yes, and they attacked us."

"And you got away."

Denis nodded.

"My word! You were lucky!"

"It was through my fencing master," said Denis warmly, as his dressing was hurried on. "He can do all you say when he's teaching; and when he fights as he did last night—"

"Oh, I do wish that I had been there!"

"—his point seems everywhere at once."

"That's the sort of man I love," cried the English lad excitedly, and he gave his visitor so hearty a slap on the shoulder that Denis changed colour and reeled.

"Oh, what have I done!" cried the lad, catching him in his arms and hurriedly lowering him into a settee, before fetching him water in a silver cup and holding it to his lips.—"Feel better now?" he said.

"Oh yes, it's nothing. Don't laugh at me, please. I turned faint like a great silly girl. You touched the tenderest place, where my arm was hurt, and—"

"Denis, boy! May I come in?"

"Yes, yes," said the lad faintly. "Come in. Carrbroke, this is Master Leoni, the gentleman who handles his sword so well."

"I am glad to know you, sir," said the youth, drawing himself up and welcoming with courtly grace the slight, keen-looking, elderly man whose strange, penetrating eyes seemed to be searching him through and through. "I am so sorry that I was asleep when you came last night. I was helping my father's visitor just now, and I am afraid I have hurt him a great deal. His shoulder is hurt, and he tells me that it has not been treated by a leech."

"Hurt?" cried Leoni, speaking quickly. "I did not know of this. Why did you not tell me last night?"

"Oh, I didn't think," said Denis. "I had enough to do to sit my horse and manage to get here; and," added the lad lightly, "I thought that it would be better."

"Ah," said Master Leoni quietly, "let me see." And he looked at the boy fixedly with that curious hard stare of the left eye which Denis never could explain.

"Oh no; I'm nearly dressed now, and breakfast is waiting."

"How did this happen?" said Leoni, paying no heed to the lad's words. "Sit still, boy, and tell me everything at once."

Denis gave a hurried narrative of his encounter, and his listeners eagerly grasped every word.

"I see," said Leoni gravely. "Your blade must have passed through the ruffian, and been held long enough by the muscles for you to receive a horrible wrench. There, set your teeth, and if I hurt you try and bear it. I will be as gentle as I can."

A rapid examination followed, and then the carefully educated fingers ceased their task, and Leoni spoke again as he drew a white kerchief from his pouch and gently wiped his patient's moistened brow.

"There is nothing wrong," he said, "but a bad strain at the tendons, and of course the slightest touch gives great suffering. I will return directly. I am only going to my room for something that will lull that pain, and nature will do the rest."

He nodded gravely to both the lads, and passed quickly from the room, while as the door closed the young Englishman said eagerly:

"I like him. He seems to know a deal. But you said that he was a maitre d'armes."

"He's everything," said Denis with a faint laugh—"chirurgien, statesman—oh, I can't tell you all. Oh, how he hurt me, though! If you hadn't been here I believe I should have shrieked."

"Not you," cried the other. "I was watching, and I saw how you set your teeth. Why, if he had pulled your arm off you wouldn't have said a word. I say, I wish you were English."

"Why?" said Denis wonderingly.

"Oh, I don't know," said the other rather confusedly, "only I seem to like a fellow who can act like that."

"Then because I am French you feel as if you couldn't like me?"

"That I don't!" replied the lad bluffly. "Because I do like you, and I'm glad you've come. I say, can you shake hands?"

"Like the English?" said Denis. "Of course."

"Oh, I did not mean that," said the other. "Of course I know that you fellows embrace; but I meant about your arm. Can you shake hands without its hurting? Because we always do it with our right."

"Try," said Denis, smiling, as, passing his left hand under his wrist, he softly raised the injured limb, and the next moment the two lads seemed to seal the beginning of a long friendship in a warm, firm pressure, which had not ended when they became conscious that the door had softly opened and Master Leoni was standing there, a dark, peculiar-looking, living picture in an oaken frame, an inscrutable-looking smile upon his lips and his eyes half closed.

The blood flushed to the cheeks of both the lads, as the young Englishman tightened his grip and stood firm, while without appearing to have noticed the lads' action, Leoni came forward, and they saw that he had a little silver flacon in his hand.

"Feel faint now, Denis?" he said.

"Oh no," was the reply. "That passed away at once. Is that what you have been to fetch?"

"Yes," said Leoni, smiling, "and you need not think that I am going to give you drops in water such as will make you shudder. I am only going to moisten this linen pad and lay it beneath your waistcoat. I believe it will quite dull the pain. There," he said, a few minutes later, after carefully securing the moistened linen so that it should not slip, and fastening the lad's doublet to his throat, "it feels better now, does it not?"

"Better?" said Denis with a low hiss, and speaking through his teeth. "Why, it's as if a red-hot point was boring through my shoulder."

"Yes," said Leoni, smiling; "and that's a good sign. In another minute you will not feel the same. Come, Master Carrbroke, let us both finish dressing our patient and get him to his breakfast."

"Oh, I couldn't have believed it," cried Denis, five minutes later. "Master Carrbroke—"

"Ned," said the young man correctively. "Ned always to my friends."

"Ned, then," said Denis warmly; "once more, this is Master Leoni, and you ought to make him one, for you never before met such a man as he."



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A FEW BARS' REST.

A short time later, the dull aching pain seemed to have passed completely out of the injured shoulder, and after a few words evincing his gratitude, which Leoni received with a rather cynical smile, they passed together, led by their new young friend, into the long low dining-hall of the house, where the King, in company with Saint Simon, both apparently none the worse for the previous night's experience, was impatiently waiting, and conversing with his host, a tall grey-bearded man of sixty, whose aspect told at once that he was father to the youth who ushered in the injured lad.

"Let me introduce my son, my lord," said Sir John. "Ned, my boy, this is Comte de la Seine, a French nobleman about to visit your royal master's Court. My lord, my fighting days have long been over, and I only serve my King now with my counsel; but he has honoured me by accepting the service of my only son for his father's sake, and has made him, young as he is, one of the King's esquires."

"And a brave one too, I'll warrant," said Francis, holding out his hand, quite forgetful of his new character as a travelling nobleman, for his host's heir to kiss.

He winced slightly, his face twitched, and an ejaculation nearly passed his lips, while the sinister look on Master Leoni's countenance deepened as he half closed his eyes, at heart enjoying the scene; for the youth advanced with the frank, manly courtesy of a young Englishman, and instead of bending over and kissing, courtier-like, the extended hand, he took it and shook it with a hearty grip.

"I am glad to know my father's guest, my lord," he said. "It was not from want of respect that I was not here before. I have been with your esquire.—He was badly hurt yesterday, father; he mustn't go on. You must keep him here for days, till we have set him right."

"Gladly, my boy," cried Sir John, "if his lordship will honour my poor home with his presence."

"Oh no, no," said the King shortly. "Why, Denis, boy, you are not so bad as that. Here, Master Leoni, what have you to say?"

"That he must rest two or three days at least, sir. His arm is badly wrenched, and he is not fit to sit a horse."

"But he sat one bravely enough last night," cried the King.—"But, Sir John, are all your roads like this? If the people we passed last night could have had their way you would have no guests to throw themselves upon your kindness, for we should have been lying somewhere in the forest to feed the English crows. But there, we have kept you waiting long enough," and he made a gesture towards the well-spread board.

Sir John raised his eyebrows slightly, for his visitor's imperious, authoritative way impressed him unfavourably. But no suspicion of his status occurred to him then, and directly after he was busily employed doing the honours of his table, the good things spread thereon soon having a mollifying influence upon his guest, whose autocratic ways became less prominent under the influence of a most enjoyable meal.

Thoroughly softened then by his meal as far as temper was concerned, the King now began to find out that he was exceedingly stiff, and questioned Saint Simon a good deal about his sensations, to learn that he too was in the same condition.

"Ah, well," he said, "riding will soon take that off. Here, let's go and have a look at the horses."

Sir John accompanied his guest into the great stable-yard, followed by Saint Simon and the two young esquires.

The chargers had been carefully tended by Sir John's men, who did not fail to point out that they were not taking their corn happily; and it was perfectly evident to everyone that their hard day's work, following so closely upon much riding down to the port and the stormy crossing, had made them in a very unsatisfactory condition.

"Humph!" grunted the King. "They don't look as I should like."

"Splendid beasts," said Sir John; "but they want eight and forty hours' rest. You will not think of continuing your journey to-day?"

"Indeed but I shall," said the King,—"er—that is—how do you think they look, Saint Simon?"

"Bough," said the young man laconically.

The King grunted and frowned.

"I fear you think that you will not be welcome, my lord," said Sir John, "and I beg that you will dismiss all such thoughts. Make up your mind, pray, to stay for the next eight and forty hours. I beg you will. Then we shall see how the poor beasts are. Besides, we have to think of our young friend."

The result was that the King consented to stop for the aforesaid forty-eight hours, at the end of which time, feeling himself very comfortable and enjoying his host's company, he needed very little pressure to prolong his stay, especially as Leoni announced that, though Denis was mending fast, riding might have a bad effect and delay his recovery.

The King's Esquires—by George Manville Fenn



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE DOCTOR IS BUSY.

But the King could not conceal his anxiety to be once more in the saddle en route for Windsor; and although Sir John Carrbroke urged him to remain so far as the dictates of hospitality required, yet he forbore when he saw the impatience of his guest to be once more on his way, and at dinner the night before the departure he spoke only of the journey to be undertaken on the following day.

"You will find the roads safe enough from here onward, sir," he said courteously, and the King bowed gravely.

"I trust so," he said; "I trust so. England had been represented to me as a land where everyone was safe."

Sir John leaned forward.

"I doubt not," he said, "that when you represent to his Majesty the peril you encountered the south will be cleared of that roving band."

The King laughed.

"Well, we did something towards ridding the country of the robbers, eh, Leoni? I—" He stopped speaking, for at that minute there was the sound of a horse cantering into the courtyard, and a minute later Sir John's own serving-man entered the apartment.

"It is a message, Sir John," he said, "for my young master." And he handed a document to Ned Carrbroke, who hastily unfastened it and read.

"Lord Hurst orders me to return at once," he said to his father.

"Ah," said Sir John. "You see, sir," he exclaimed with a smile, looking at the King, "how important an individual the boy there is becoming. But," he went on, "you were expecting this summons, my lad, and now as it happens you will be able to act as additional escort to our guest— that is, if he will permit."

"Permit!" cried the King. "I shall be glad to have our young friend's company—glad indeed." And as he spoke Sir John gazed musingly at the sparkling ring which his guest wore, one which flashed in the light of the candles as Francis made a gesture with his hand.

A few minutes later Ned Carrbroke glanced at his father, and then rose from his chair, making a sign to Denis as he did so.

"Come," he said quietly, as the two lads moved to the door and passed out. "It was in my mind before, and now it has happened just as I would have wished. I shall come with you."

"Yes," answered Denis. "I am glad."

"I shall be able to show you much," the other went on. "You have never seen a Court; I shall be able to introduce you to that of our King."

"Well," said Denis hesitatingly, "I have been to Fontainebleau."

"Fontainebleau? Where's that?"

"The Court of the King of France."

"Ah! You have seen King Francis?"

"Yes."

"What is he like?"

"Brave, handsome, noble!"

"So is my King too. You will have to stop with me in England and serve King Henry."

While Denis accompanied his new-found friend the talk went on in the big wainscotted dining-room, and the King, who was leaning back in his chair, had finished a long story of the chase, when his host half rose.

"If you will excuse me, my lord, for a few minutes," he said, "I have to give an order as to your departure to-morrow?"

Francis made an inclination of assent.

"When you visit France," he said, "I trust, sir, that I shall be able to make you some return for your kindness to me and to my followers here." And then a minute later, left alone with his two companions, the King yawned. "Gentlemen," he exclaimed, "do not let me detain you." And Leoni and Saint Simon rose, the doctor hesitating a moment at the door.

"You do not, sir," he began, "see any disadvantage in—"

"In what?" said the King sharply.

"Why, sir, in our taking this English stripling along with us on the morrow?"

"By my sword, no!" said the King. "Why should I?"

"He is keen and clever."

"And what of that?"

"Simply this, sir: he might divine the truth. A word, a look—"

"Leoni, have I not acted my part well till now?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then—"

"With your permission, sir; you are a King, and those who are chosen by Heaven to reign cannot assume the guise of other men."

"But my disguise, Leoni—my disguise!"

"Has been admirable, sir."

"Then trust me for the future," was the reply.

And as the door closed and a puff of air caused the lights on the table to dance, the King leaned back in his chair and just then caught his own reflection in a tall glass at the further end of the chamber.

"Ah," he mused, "Leoni doubts of my address. Let him be quite assured. And this Henry who has ambitions on my land of France! Shortly I shall meet him, and my strength will be greater than his since I shall know who he is, and he—he will be ignorant as to who I am.

"Never in France Shall England reign!"

he hummed.

"To-morrow I shall meet him, and then that stone—for Leoni must be right—that jewel will be mine, and the last link which binds us to the old invasion will be snapped."

The King rose and took a turn up and down the apartment.

"I must speak again with Leoni," he said. "Where has he gone?" And he lifted a portiere and walked out of the apartment, entering a long corridor where a coloured lamp hung from the ceiling. "Our host is well lodged," he continued musingly, as he passed on, stopping at a door through which a stream of light issued forth.

The King pushed the door, which swung back noiselessly on its hinges, and gazed inside, to see Leoni sitting at a table, studiously intent upon some work—lost in the depths. He called softly:

"Leoni!"

The doctor did not turn his head.

"Leoni!" said the King once more, raising his voice; and the man of learning leaped to his feet and came towards his master.

"My lord!" he ejaculated.

The King stepped into the room, and the door closed behind him.

"Busily engaged, Master Leoni?" he said bluffly.

The doctor bowed.

"In your service, sir," he replied humbly.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE GLITTERING STONE.

"You are satisfied, I trust, doctor, with our programme?" said the King, in a slightly ironical tone, as he passed to the window, humming an old hunting song as he tapped the panes, while Leoni remained standing near the table at which he had been busily engaged writing.

"Sir—" he began.

"Sit down, Master Leoni; sit down. You can respect my disguise better, and also more thoroughly please me. I was saying, you are satisfied?"

"Everything, sir, that you order is the best. Of that I am convinced; and yet, sir, I am anxious about the Majesty of France. I am common clay, sir. I am nothing; I can die; whereas you—"

"No, no, Leoni; not here, not here. We have left that in France. Do you not understand? Just at present we are travelling companions, and I look to you and to your great learning for assistance, just as I received it in the forest that night; and then it was timely indeed."

"You are too indulgent, my lord, to any poor attainments that your servant may possess. Such as they are, they will always be at my lord's service," replied Leoni, and he slowly resumed his seat in the high-backed chair, in obedience to a commanding gesture from the King.

Francis laughed lightly.

"The best swordsman," he said, "in all my fair kingdom of France—cut, parry, and point; the greatest savant; and, by my sword, the best of patrists.—No, no, Leoni, old friend, I am not too indulgent," and he gave his follower a keen glance. "But as to the route; is it good to start to-morrow?"

Leoni bowed.

"Yes, sir, it is good," he said, and he blew some few grains of sand off the paper at which he had been engaged.

"Ah!" said the King. "'Tis well."

"And then, sir—"

"Then—I do not understand."

Leoni leaned forward, and with his elbows on the table joined the tips of his fingers, and then clasped his hands and, with the weird strange look in his eyes, said:

"What does my lord propose to do?"

"To do? Why, to go to the Court of our quick-tempered brother Henry at this palace of his at Windsor."

"Ah!" said Leoni.

"You are doubtful?"

"I think, sir, that there may be difficulties in the way." And the speaker glanced at the document before him.

"Difficulties for me! You are mad."

"No, sir, only cautious. When you are in France, at Fontainebleau, at Compiegne, in Paris, no matter where, does his Majesty the King receive any errant English nobleman who may be abroad to study the world? I think not. Your minister would inquire into the traveller's papers, and ask whence he came, and why."

The King turned thoughtful in a moment, and the haughty look died away on his lips.

"By Saint Louis, I never thought of that! Leoni, you are wiser than I."

Leoni gazed intently at the King, who winced; and Francis ended by putting his hand before his own eyes, as if the peculiar fixed stare annoyed him.

"I was arguing by analogy, sir. Is it likely that this English monarch will act differently from the first King in Christendom? I think not. Henry apes your Majesty. It is you, Sire, who lead, and whom other kings follow. Go in your proper person, and there is not a door in all this land, or in any other, which can be thrown open wide enough to admit you; but—"

"Leoni," interrupted the King, "what are you writing?"

"A suggestion, sir, to offer you."

The King crossed the chamber, and, leaning over Leoni's shoulder, read out the words:

"To our well-beloved Cousin, Henry, King of England.

"Dear Cousin and King,—

"The bearer of this our letter, the noble Comte Reginald Herault de la Seine of Angomar and Villay, is our good friend. We ask you to receive him as such, and to permit him to see your Court, of which all the world speaks, and your kingdom of England, whose power is so beneficent and so mighty an agent of Heaven's will on this earth."

————————————————————————————————————

"Will it serve, sir?" asked Leoni.

"Of course!" cried the King; and snatching the pen from the doctor's hand, he took the letter to the other side of the table and clumsily scribbled down a signature. "There," he cried, tossing the letter back; "will that do?"

Leoni fixed him with his eyes and shrugged his shoulders slightly, and his peculiar cynical smile played about his lips.

"I wish, Leoni, you wouldn't stare at me like that," cried the King petulantly. "Yes. I know; it is bad—not like your regular writing. I don't pass my time handling a pen."

"I was not thinking of the writing, sir, but of the signature."

"Oh, I see," cried the King; "I am not used to it. I shall write it better by-and-by. Well, won't that one do?"

"Your lordship had not thought before you put pen to paper."

"Yes, I did; I thought that the sooner I got it over the better. Well, what do you want now?"

"I was wondering," said Leoni, with a mocking smile, "what King Henry would think of a Comte de la Seine who writes a letter in the King's name to introduce himself."

"Bah!" cried the King angrily. "What an idiot! No; it was my honest nature rebelling against deceit. Here, Leoni, what's to be done?"

"I'll write the letter over again, sir, and you will sign it this time as the King."

"Good!" murmured Francis.

The letter was rewritten, and the King signed.

"With this passport, sir, King Henry's Court at Windsor will be free to you and to yours."

"Excellent," said the King, and he glanced at the document endorsed with the royal signature—"Francois, R."—at which he smiled with self-satisfaction. "Now nothing more remains to be done."

The King looked fixedly at his servant, and then laid his hand on the latter's arm.

"It is good," he said. "What you have done is well done. Leoni, with mind and sword you have served me well, and that France which we both love with loyalty and faith. And now—now that we are nearing our journey's end, you hold it still to be the truth that Henry guards jealously in his possession this jewel, which in his hands is an agent for the downfall of France?"

"I hold it to be true, sir," said Leoni solemnly, and he laid his hand on a little golden crucifix which lay on the table before him. "I hold it to be true, and that the old ambition which brought the English hordes to our country is kept alive by the influence of that jewel. He will serve France well who reclaims it and restores it to its rightful place—your crown, Sire." And the speaker dropped on one knee, but the King motioned him to rise.

"Not now," he said; "not now." And then, as his royal master appeared to be lost in thought, Leoni went on; "Never, sir, would I have brought this matter to your notice, deeply though it concerns the welfare of France, had I not been convinced."

"And why so?"

"Because, sir, I knew your nature—reckless, valiant, ready to risk all, ay, even your life, when the interests of your country are involved."

"And rightly so. It is as a Valois should act, as a Valois will act to the end."

"Yes, sir; and yet I dreaded at first to speak, for I foresaw something of what would happen, since to those who study deeply a vision of the future is vouchsafed at times, and I realised even then what might be your resolve—namely, to undertake the perilous quest yourself."

"It was for France."

"Yes, sir—"

And then the King, in a softened voice, said slowly:

"You blame me, Leoni?"

"It is not for such as I to blame. All that you have done, sir, is good; but there is the future. Of that we will take thought. You are in a strange land, sir, amidst people who to-morrow may be foes. You are far from the army which would follow you to death, and to meet the dangers which may come into your path there are but three swords, three loyal hearts."

"And they will be enough," said the King. "Leoni, old friend, you must have no fear."

"I have none, sir."

"Well," said the King, "between ourselves, Leoni, I have. This thing begins to look more awkward now we are getting so near. King Henry is always very civil to me in his letters, and no doubt he will give the Comte de la Loire—"

"Seine, sir—Seine."

"Bah! Yes, of course. I knew it was some river. I say: I mustn't make such a mistake as that again, or he will find me out. Here, hadn't we better change the name to something else? Seine—Seine—it's rather a stupid name."

"Too late, sir," said Leoni earnestly. "You must hold to it now. But you were about to say something, my lord."

"Yes, of course," cried the King hastily. "Suppose Henry does find me out, and has got me there. Why, by my sword, Leoni, he'll hold me to ransom, and instead of my getting back that one jewel he'll make me give up my whole crown."

"No, sir; no, sir," cried Leoni earnestly. "Have more faith in yourself, and go forward. You cannot turn back now. You will soon get used to the part you assume, and it will be easy."

"I don't know so much about that," said the King. "I am a bad actor. Why, you can't keep it up yourself. If I hadn't stopped you just now you'd have been down upon your knees to kiss my hand."

"That was only my reverence and duty to my King."

"Yes, I know," said Francis angrily; "but just recollect that you have no king now, and let's have no reverence, for if you get me regularly into trouble over this, good a servant as you have been to me, your friends will have to prepare your tomb, a short one too, for you will lose your head."

"In the service of my country and my lord, sir," said Leoni calmly. "I shall have done my duty. But we shall not fail."



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE KING'S BULLIES.

It was towards evening that the little cavalcade came within sight of the town where was situated the famous castle which was so much to the liking of Henry; and at this point there was a separation, for young Carrbroke took leave.

"We shall soon meet again," he said to Denis, as the two lads bade each other farewell. "When does your master go to the Court?"

Denis shook his head.

"I do not know. Ask him."

"I dare not."

"It will be soon," exclaimed Denis, "for I believe that my lord will not remain in England long."

The King took dinner that night at the hostelry by the side of the ferry and ford they had crossed that day, having previously despatched Denis with the letter which was to bring him face to face with the King of England, the lad shortly returning, having intrusted the missive to a captain of the Royal Guards, by whom it was to be handed to the chamberlain on duty.

But the meal was not concluded when Francis was asked to receive a messenger from the castle.

"Bid him enter," said the King, and he rose and stood by the wide hearth, as the emissary of the English King entered and bowed low.

"His Majesty," he said, "wishes to welcome the noble Count de la Seine, and tells me to assure you, sir, that had he known of your coming he would gladly have provided an escort from the coast. He begs that you will honour him this evening with your presence at his Court."

"Tell his Majesty," said Francis gravely, "that I am very sensible of his kindness, and that it is my most urgent wish to wait upon him."

The royal messenger was bowed out, and Francis turned sharply to Leoni.

"Well, Leoni, we are outside the lion's den at present. Are we to go in?—Don't!" cried the King angrily.

"My lord!"

"Don't stare at me like that. I know what you are thinking—that I am afraid."

"Heaven forbid that I should think such a thing of—"

The King made a gesture, and in a hoarse whisper:

"You were going to say 'King.' One might think from your visage that in walking into his palace I was stepping into a lion's den.—What now, boy? What were you thinking?" he cried, turning sharply to Denis, who had been listening impatiently to his companion's words.

"Only, sir, that if it be a lion's den the Comte de la Seine has his sword."

"To be sure," said the King.

"And three followers who carry theirs, and—"

The boy stopped short, for as he uttered his boastful words he was interrupted by a hoarse, mocking laugh which came through the partly open door, rousing the boy's ire so that he clapped his hand to his weapon, the others turning also in the direction from which the sound had come.