The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevill was drawing to a close.Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde had ridden out from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsome young knight's name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and her fairer friend.
Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the great court, their arms about each other's waists, pouring the last confidences into each other's ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to return to Leicester.
"Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade," said Mary."Wert my father here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only the small escort which we be able to give.""Fear not, Mary," replied Bertrade."Five of thy father's knights be ample protection for so short a journey.By evening it will have been accomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received such a sound set back from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he will venture again to molest me.""But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade ?" urged Mary."Only yestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's men-at-arms came limping to us with the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on his master's household.He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst think of naught more horrible than to fall into his hands.""Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Norman of Torn was most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father's castle.How be it thou so soon has changed thy mind ?""Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows what horrid freak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyond compare.
Again, forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry's niece;against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatred and his vengeance.Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be sure my father must return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany thee instead of five.""What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary ? Thy reasoning is on a parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.
"If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that five knights were sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but a mouthful to that horrid horde of unhung murderers.No, Mary, I shall start tomorrow and your good knights shall return the following day with the best of word from me.""If thou wilst, thou wilst," cried Mary petulantly."Indeed it were plain that thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery be second only to their historic stubbornness."Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.
"Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroad to protect me.Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for of a truth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I ere saw fight before.""Methinks," said Mary, still peeved at her friend's determination to leave on the morrow, "that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger all unarmed, that still would you send back my father's knights."Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount to her cheek.
"Thou be a fool, Mary," she said.
Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying the discomfiture of the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.
"Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; but now Iseest that I divined all too truly.He be indeed good to look upon, but what knowest thou of him ?""Hush, Mary !" commanded Bertrade."Thou know not what thou sayest.Iwould not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, and then -- it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and no word hath he sent.""Oh, ho," cried the little plague, "so there lies the wind ? My Lady would not wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has sent her no word.Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade.""I will not talk with you, Mary," cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaled foot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward the castle.
In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sides of a little table.The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout.His red, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the manner of his life; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabby over his receding chin, indicated the base passions to which his life and been given.His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suit of armor and closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his guest might be.It was the little armored man who was speaking.
"Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter," he said, "that you must have my reasons ? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be the passion which moves me.Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the maiden; give me ten knights and I will bring her to you.""How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father's castle ?" asked Peter of Colfax.
"That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, if thou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that we may take our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow."Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse of Leicester's to catch him in some trap.He did not know his guest -- the fellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method of obtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.
"Come," said the little, armored man irritably."I cannot bide here forever.Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge, and if thou wilst not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians and then not even thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more."This last threat decided the Baron.
"It is agreed," he said."The men shall ride out with you in half an hour.Wait below in the courtyard."When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned his squire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen.