nt
dreamer, but this is the place whereto in dreams I have been many a
time. Now we shall come to yon turn of the road among the houses, and
beyond that we shall surely see a stone-arched gate in a great wall, and
spearmen on guard thereat."

It was so, and the gate and guard were before us in a few more steps. It
was the gate of the old Roman town, inside which was the palace of the
king and one or two more great houses only. Our English kin hate a
walled town or a stone house, and they would not live within the strong
walls, whose wide span was, save for the king's palace, which was built
partly of the house of the Roman governor, and these other halls, which
went for naught in so wide a meadow, empty and green, and crossed by two
paved roads, with grass growing between the stones. There were brown
marks, as of the buried stones of other foundations, on the grass where
the old streets had been.

All the straggling English town was outside the walls, and only in time
of war would the people use them as a stronghold, as they used the still
more ancient camps on the hills.

"Many times have you heard us tell of this place, Havelok," I said. "It
is no wonder that you seem to know it."

"Nay," he answered, "but this is the city of my dreams, and somewhat is
to happen here."

CHAPTER VIII. BERTHUN THE COOK.

For that night we went to the house of the old dame with whom my father
and I were wont to lodge when we came to the market, and she took us in
willingly, though she could make little cheer for us. Truly, as had been
said, the scarcity was not so great in Lincoln, but everything was
terribly dear, and that to some is almost as bad.

"No money have I now, dame," I said ruefully, "but I think that for old
sake's sake you will not turn us away."

"Not I, faith," she answered. "I mind the first day your father came
here, and never a penny had he, and since then there has been no want in
this house. Luck comes with Grim and his folk, as I think. But this is a
son whom I have not seen before, if he is indeed your brother."

"I am Grim's son Curan," said Havelok, "and I have not been to Lincoln
ere this. But I have heard of you many times."

That pleased our old hostess, and then she asked after Grim. Hard it was
to have to tell her that he was gone, and hard it was for her to hear,
for the little house had been open to us for ten years.

"What will you do now, masters?" she asked, when she had told us of ma