you
wot of, Sir Knight," said he, "if knight indeed you be who are so
uncourteous and short in your speech. Ere we go further, I would ask
your name and style?"

The stranger laughed. "It is easy to see that you are indeed men of
peace," said he proudly. "Had I shown this sign," and he touched the
token upon his lapels, "whether on shield or pennon, in the marches of
France or Scotland, there is not a cavalier but would have known the red
pile of Chandos."

Chandos, John Chandos, the flower of English chivalry, the pink of
knight-errantry, the hero already of fifty desperate enterprises, a man
known and honored from end to end of Europe! Nigel gazed at him as
one who sees a vision. The archers stood back abashed, while the monks
crowded closer to stare at the famous soldier of the French wars. The
Abbot abated his tone, and a smile came to his angry face.

"We are indeed men of peace, Sir John, and little skilled in warlike
blazonry," said he; "yet stout as are our Abbey walls, they are not so
thick that the fame of your exploits has not passed through them and
reached our ears. If it be your pleasure to take an interest in this
young and misguided Squire, it is not for us to thwart your kind
intention or to withhold such grace as you request. I am glad indeed
that he hath one who can set him so fair an example for a friend."

"I thank you for your courtesy, good father Abbot," said Chandos
carelessly. "This young Squire has, however, a better friend than
myself, one who is kinder to those he loves and more terrible to those
he hates. It is from him I bear a message."

"I pray you, fair and honored sir," said Nigel, "that you will tell me
what is the message that you bear."

"The message, mon ami, is that your friend comes into these parts and
would have a night's lodging at the manor house of Tilford for the love
and respect that he bears your family."

"Nay, he is most welcome," said Nigel, "and yet I hope that he is one
who can relish a soldier's fare and sleep under a humble roof, for
indeed we can but give our best, poor as it is."

"He is indeed a soldier and a good one," Chandos answered, laughing,
"and I warrant he has slept in rougher quarters than Tilford
Manor-house."

"I have few friends, fair sir," said Nigel, with a puzzled face. "I pray
you give me this gentleman's name."

"His name is Edward."

"Sir Edward Mortimer of Kent, perchance, or is it Sir Edward Brocas of
whom the Lady Ermyntrude