district infested by the outlaws, and, although they had never
molested Sir Nicholas, nor he them, they were dangerous to
travellers of rank in general, and few dared traverse the forest
roads unattended by an escort. In the depths of these hoary woods
were iron works, which had existed since the days of the early
Britons, but had of late years been completely neglected, for all
the thoughts of the Norman gentlemen or the Saxon outlaws were
concentrated on war or the chase.

Hailsham (or, as it was then called, Hamelsham) was the first
resting place, after a ride of nearly nine miles. It was an old
English settlement in the woods, which had now become the abode of
a lord of Norman descent, who had built a castle, and held the town
as his dependency. However, the races were no longer in deadly
hostility--the knights had their liberties and rights, and so long
as they paid their tribute duly, all went as well as in the olden
time, before the Conquest; albeit the curfew from the old church
tower each night told its solemn tale of subjection and restraint,
as it does even now, when the old ideas have quite departed, and
few realise what it once meant.

Over the flat marshes to Pevensey, marshes then covered at high
tide--leaving on the left the high lands of Herstmonceux, where the
father of "Roaring Ralph" of that ilk still resided, lord
paramount. The castle was hidden in the trees. The church stood
bravely out, and its bells were ringing a wedding peal in the ears
of the parting knight. How tantalising!

Pevensey now reared its giant towers in front. There reigned the
Queen's uncle, Peter of Savoy, specially exempted from the sentence
of exile which had fallen upon the rest of the king's foreign
kindred.

There was scant time for hospitality. The vessel lay in the dock
which was to bear the crusader away; there was to be a full moon
that night; wind and tide were favourable. Everything promised a
quick passage, and, after a brief refection, Hubert bade his
kinsman and friends farewell, and embarked in the Rose of Pevensey.

England sank behind him. The last glimpse he had of his native land
was the gleam of the sunset on Beachy Head.

My native land--Good night.

Chapter 16: Michelham Once More.

It was a summer evening, and the sun was sinking behind the hills
which encompass Lewes. His declining beams gilded the towers of
Michelham Priory.

Several of the brethren were walking on the terrace, which