hing was clear. It was deliberate. It was
the long arm. Fortini smiled lazily at me while I thus paused for the
moment to debate, but in his smile was the essence of all insolence.

This, of all times, was the time I should have been cool. But the old
red anger began to kindle in me. This was the work of the priest. This
was the Fortini, poverished of all save lineage, reckoned the best sword
come up out of Italy in half a score of years. To-night it was Fortini.
If he failed the gray old man's command to-morrow it would be another
sword, the next day another. And, perchance still failing, then might I
expect the common bravo's steel in my back or the common poisoner's
philter in my wine, my meat, or bread.

"I am busy," I said. "Begone."

"My business with you presses," was his reply.

Insensibly our voices had slightly risen, so that Philippa heard.

"Begone, you Italian hound," I said. "Take your howling from my door. I
shall attend to you presently."

"The moon is up," he said. "The grass is dry and excellent. There is no
dew. Beyond the fish-pond, an arrow's flight to the left, is an open
space, quiet and private."

"Presently you shall have your desire," I muttered impatiently.

But still he persisted in waiting at my shoulder.

"Presently," I said. "Presently I shall attend to you."

Then spoke Philippa, in all the daring spirit and the iron of her.

"Satisfy the gentleman's desire, Sainte-Maure. Attend to him now. And
good fortune go with you." She paused to beckon to her her uncle, Jean
de Joinville, who was passing--uncle on her mother's side, of the de
Joinvilles of Anjou. "Good fortune go with you," she repeated, and then
leaned to me so that she could whisper: "And my heart goes with you,
Sainte-Maure. Do not be long. I shall await you in the big hall."

I was in the seventh heaven. I trod on air. It was the first frank
admittance of her love. And with such benediction I was made so strong
that I knew I could kill a score of Fortinis and snap my fingers at a
score of gray old men in Rome.

Jean de Joinville bore Philippa away in the press, and Fortini and I
settled our arrangements in a trice. We separated--he to find a friend
or so, and I to find a friend or so, and all to meet at the appointed
place beyond the fish-pond.

First I found Robert Lanfranc, and, next, Henry Bohemond. But before I
found them I encountered a windlestraw which showed which way blew the
wi