ad never, since
the day he was expelled from Kenilworth, ceased to hate Earl Simon,
and now he declared boldly for the king, and prepared to fight like
a wildcat for the royal cause.

But Waleran, Lord of Herstmonceux, the father of our Ralph,
espoused the popular side warmly, as did all the English men of
Saxon race--the "merrie men" of the woods, and the like.

But the great Earl de Warrenne of Lewes was a fierce royalist. So
was the Lord of Pevensey.

Already the woods were full of strife. Whensoever a party met a
party of opposite principles, there was instant bloodshed. The
barons' men from Herstmonceux pillaged the lands of Walderne or
Pevensey. The burghers of Hailsham declared for the earl, as did
most burghers throughout the land; and Lewes, Pevensey, and
Walderne threatened to unite, harry their lands, and burn their
town. The monks of Battle preached for the king, as did those of
Wilmington and Michelham. The Franciscans everywhere used all their
powers for the barons, for was not Simon de Montfort one of them in
heart in their reforms?

So all was strife and confusion--the first big drops of rain before
the thunderstorm.

Drogo was at the height of his ambition. He had added Walderne to
his patrimony of Harengod. He had humbled the neighbouring
franklins, who refused to pay him blackmail. He had filled his
castle with free lances, whose very presence forced him to a life
of brigandage, for they must be paid, and work must be found them,
or--he could not hold them in hand. The vassals who cultivated the
land around enjoyed security of life with more or less suffering
from his tyranny; but the independent franklin, the headmen of the
villages, the burgesses of the towns (outside their walls), the
outlaws of the woods, when he could get at them all, these were his
natural sport and prey.

He had a squire after his own heart, named Raoul of Blois, who had
come to England in the train of one of the king's foreign
favourites, and escaped the general sentence of expulsion passed at
Oxford in 1258.

One eventide--the work of the day was over, and Drogo and this
squire were taking counsel in the chamber of the former; once the
boudoir of Lady Sybil in better days.

"Raoul," said his master, "have you heard aught yet of the Lady
Alicia of Possingworth?"

"Yes, my lord, but not good news."

"Tell them without more grimace."

"She has placed herself under the protection of the Earl of
Leicester."

Dr