ng, when commoners dared not have laid their
grimy hands upon such a man. Men of gentle blood and coat-armor made
war upon each other, and the others, spearmen or archers, could scramble
amongst themselves. But now all are of a level, and only here and there
one like yourself, fair son, who reminds me of the men who are gone."

Nigel leaned forward and took her hands in his. "What I am you have made
me," said he.

"It is true, Nigel. I have indeed watched over you as the gardener
watches his most precious blossom, for in you alone are all the hopes of
our ancient house, and soon--very soon--you will be alone."

"Nay, dear lady, say not that."

"I am very old, Nigel, and I feel the shadow closing in upon me. My
heart yearns to go, for all whom I have known and loved have gone before
me. And you--it will be a blessed day for you, since I have held you
back from that world into which your brave spirit longs to plunge."

"Nay, nay, I have been happy here with you at Tilford."

"We are very poor, Nigel. I do not know where we may find the money
to fit you for the wars. Yet we have good friends. There is Sir John
Chandos, who has won such credit in the French wars and who rides ever
by the King's bridle-arm. He was your father's friend and they were
Squires together. If I sent you to court with a message to him he would
do what he could."

Nigel's fair face flushed. "Nay, Dame Ermyntrude, I must find my own
gear, even as I have found my own horse, for I had rather ride into
battle in this tunic than owe my suit to another."

"I feared that you would say so, Nigel; but indeed I know not how else
we may get the money," said the old woman sadly. "It was different in
the days of my father. I can remember that a suit of mail was but a
small matter in those days, for in every English town such things could
be made. But year by year since men have come to take more care of their
bodies, there have been added a plate of proof here and a cunning joint
there, and all must be from Toledo or Milan, so that a knight must have
much metal in his purse ere he puts any on his limbs."

Nigel looked up wistfully at the old armor which was slung on the beams
above him. "The ash spear is good," said he, "and so is the oaken shield
with facings of steel. Sir Roger FitzAlan handled them and said that he
had never seen better. But the armor--"

Lady Ermyntrude shook her old head and laughed. "You have your father's
great soul, Nigel, but