rowed, and grizzled, stood in the door of his wine-shop and
watched the crowding press of travellers at the marsh-ford, fore-runners
of the throng which nightly descended upon Thorney. Behind him, in the
dim recesses of the smoky shop, his wife, Myleia, hawk-nosed and
slatternly, prepared food for the strangers who would soon be upon them
clamoring for bed and board. It was early evening, with a faint twilight
haze still tinged with pink and primrose; but already lights were
twinkling here and there among the clustered houses, and fires had been
started on the beach.

There was no more excitement at the ford than was usual at that hour;
the noise was no greater, the confusion no more profound; yet Nicodemus
watched it all intently, as though he had not seen it every night
before. His one eye, small and hotly blue beneath its bushy brow,
glinted over the bustling scene; watched a dozen men flogging a horse
that had slipped in mid-stream and fallen with its pack, blocking a long
file of animals and carts behind it; followed three half-drunken
soldiers lurching through the shallow water, using their pikes as
staves; lingered over a bloody battle between two carters whose wheels
had locked; and suddenly sobered into gravity at sight of a figure
striding through the ford, in worn leathern jerkin and brazen cap, with
a ponderous leaf-shaped sword swinging at its side. At sight of this
one, Nicodemus turned and went within.

The shop, lighted dimly by an evil-smelling lamp, showed small and
low-ceiled. Jars of cheap wine and casks of ale and beer, with an array
of drinking-cups of all shapes and sizes, stood on shelves along the
wall at one side. A trestled board, much scarred and hacked, ran down
the centre of the room, flanked by rows of stone stools. Built around
two sides of the room was a series of rude bunks. Over the edge of one
of these a head of rough and matted black hair was visible. An odor of
stale liquor, scorched meat, and pungent wood-smoke hung heavy in the
air. Myleia entered, from the kitchen beyond, with a tray of half-cooked
beef. Nicodemus went to the bunk and shook the occupant ungently.

"Valerius is here!" he said. His voice, like himself, was rough and
brusque, rumbling hollow from the depths of his cavernous chest. The
figure in the bunk stirred and muttered. Nicodemus turned his head.

"He'll not sleep this off for another six hours," he growled. "Wife,
some water."

The hawk-nosed woman came t