you all greetings, and am well both in mind and spirit. I pray God
that He has kept you as jealously in my long absence from home.
This is to tell you, dear heart, that, after all, I shall return to
Nottingham, mayhap very soon, and that you are to provide
accordingly. I have had tidings of you given to me by my lord
Bishop of Hereford, and now send you this by the hand of his man,
who returns to Nottingham on other business of my lord's. I pray
you to remain closely in Nottingham during my absence.

"(Signed) FITZWALTER, Warden of the City Gates.
"The twenty-fifth day of August, 1188."

The demoiselle Marie had made several attempts before she had succeeded
in producing a letter so entirely to her satisfaction; and when she had
sealed the above with the Fitzwalter arms and had addressed it, she felt
such a glow of pride in it that she could scarce bring herself to part
with the missive.

At length she bade one of her maids fetch Master Simeon to her. When,
all delighted, he stood before her, his love handed him the note.

"Take this, dear fool," said she, kindly, "and bring it to the hand of
the maid Fitzwalter. She is with the outlaws in Barnesdale, hidden in
one of their deeps, no doubt. I care not how you give it to her so long
as you are speedy."

"I will send it by the hand of Roger, your father's cook. He is well
acquainted with their hiding-places."

"That would be to spoil my plot at its outset," Marie answered,
cuttingly. "Gather your wandering wits, and bethink you of some more
likely messenger. Have you not someone in this town who can be trusted?"

"I have the very man for it," suddenly cried Carfax. "There is a young
knight, one who hath been exiled by the King for plotting with Prince
John. He is the only son of our fiery neighbor Montfichet. He hath done
secret work for the Prince, and will do it again if he believes that he
hath need for it."

"You are for ever employed in doubtful business," said Marie, crossly.
"I do not like your fiddling with Prince John. You may be sure that
Richard will succeed to the throne; and then we shall see where your
plottings have brought you."

"Richard hath already succeeded," said Carfax, whisperingly. "I had the
news but an hour since. Old Henry of Angevin is King no more--he is
dead. And Richard, _Coeur de Lion_, as the commoners do call him, hath
gone to Palestine, all unknowing that he is King!"

"So you