ling the casks before them; and,
a Court of Youth being then and there empanelled, the wretched merchant
was condemned to be whipped three times around the Maypole, to have his
goods confiscated, and to be driven out of the town _cum ludibrio_.

"Now, the knave was clever. Though terrified by the sentence, he kept his
wits. The talk had been a private one without witnesses, and he began to
shout and swear that the King of Youth had either heard amiss or was
maliciously giving false evidence. He had proposed no bargain, nor hinted
at one; he had come on a pilgrimage for his soul's sake, bringing the wine
as a propitiatory offering to Our Lady of the Oder for the use of her
people. Here was one man's oath against another's. Moreover, and even if
his sentence were legal (which he denied), it could be revised and quashed
by the Viscount of Beziers, as feudal lord of Ambialet, and to him he
appealed. Nevertheless they whipped him; and the casks they broached, and
having tasted the stuff, let it spill about the marketplace.

"But when the whipping was done, the King of Youth stood up and said:
'I have been considering, and I find that this fellow has some right on
his side. No one overheard our talk, and he sets his oath against mine.
Let him go, therefore, under guard, to the Viscount and lodge his
complaint. For my part, I have my hands full just now, and after until
the feast, and shall wait until my lord summon me. But I trust his
judgment, knowing him to be a very Solomon.' Then, turning to the
culprit, 'You know my lord's chateau, of course? My guards will take you
there.' 'The devil a furlong know I of this accursed spot,' answered
Tibbald viciously, 'seeing that I arrived here a good hour after dark, and
by a road as heathenish as yourselves.'

"'You shall travel by boat, then,' said the King, 'since the road mislikes
you. The chateau lies some two miles hence by water.' This, you see, was
no more than the truth, albeit the chateau stood close at the back of him
while he spoke, on the rock just overhead, but Tibbald could not see it
for the darkness.

"So--the townsfolk smoking the King's jest--two stout servitors led the
merchant down to the landing by the upper ferry, and there, having hoisted
him aboard a boat, thrust off into the stream. The current soon swept
them past the town; and for a while, as the boat spun downward and the
dark woods slipped past him, and he felt the night-wind cold on his