injuries--his
father had been treacherously put to death by King John of France, when
Duke of Normandy, and his brother had been murdered by an
Englishman--his native Brittany was torn by dissensions and
divisions--and his youth had been passed in bloodshed and violence. He
had now attained the deserved fame of being the second Knight in
France, honourable and loyal as regarded his King, but harsh, rigid,
cruel, of an unlovable temper, which made him in after years a mark for
plots and conspiracies; and the vindictive temper of the Celtic race
leading him to avenge the death of his brother upon every Englishman
who fell into his hands.

"So, Sir Squire!" exclaimed he, in his harsh voice, "what excuse do you
come to make for slaying my messenger ere he had time to deliver his
charge?"

"I own him as no messenger," returned Gaston. "He was a renegade
traitor from our own Castle, seeking his accomplice in villainy!"

"Well, speak on," said Oliver, to whom the death of a man-at-arms was a
matter of slight importance. "Art thou come to deliver up the Castle
to its rightful lord?"

"No, Messire Oliver," replied Gaston. "I come to bring the reply of
the Castellane, Sir Eustace Lynwood, that he will hold out the Castle
to the last extremity against all and each of your attacks."

"Sir Eustace Lynwood? What means this, Master Squire? Yonder knave
declared he was dead!"

"Hear me, Sir Oliver de Clisson," said Gaston. "Sir Eustace Lynwood
hath a pair of mortal foes at the Prince's court, who prevailed on a
part of the garrison to yield him into your hands. In my absence, they
in part succeeded. By the negligence of a drunken groom they were
enabled to fall upon him in his sleep, and, as they deemed, had
murdered him. I, returning with the rest of the garrison, was enabled
to rescue him, and deliver the Castle, where he now lies--alive,
indeed, but desperately wounded. Now, I call upon you, Sir Oliver, to
judge, whether it be the part of a true and honourable Knight to become
partner of such miscreants, and to take advantage of so foul a web of
treachery?"

"This may be a fine tale for the ears of younger knights-errant, Sir
Squire," was the reply of Clisson. "For my part though I am no lover
of treason, I may not let the King's service be stayed by scruples.
For yourself, Sir Squire, I make you a fair offer. You are, by your
tongue and countenance, a Gascon--a liegeman born of King Charles of
France. To you