"Ride on," he called to Bertrade de Montfort, "I will join you in an instant."Again dismounting, he returned to the side of his late adversary, and lifting the dead knight's visor, drew upon the forehead with the point of his dagger the letters NT.
The girl turned to see what detained him, but his back was toward her and he knelt beside his fallen foeman, and she did not see his act.Brave daughter of a brave sire though she was, had she seen what he did, her heart would have quailed within her and she would have fled in terror from the clutches of this scourge of England, whose mark she had seen on the dead foreheads of a dozen of her father's knights and kinsmen.
Their way to Stutevill lay past the cottage of Father Claude, and here Norman of Torn stopped to don his armor.Now he rode once more with lowered visor, and in silence, a little to the rear of Bertrade de Montfort that he might watch her face, which, of a sudden, had excited his interest.
Never before, within the scope of his memory, had he been so close to a young and beautiful woman for so long a period of time, although he had often seen women in the castles that had fallen before his vicious and terrible attacks.While stories were abroad of his vile treatment of women captives, there was no truth in them.They were merely spread by his enemies to incite the people against him.Never had Norman of Torn laid violent hand upon a woman, and his cut-throat band were under oath to respect and protect the sex, on penalty of death.
As he watched the semi-profile of the lovely face before him, something stirred in his heart which had been struggling for expression for years.
It was not love, nor was it allied to love, but a deep longing for companionship of such as she, and such as she represented.Norman of Torn could not have translated this feeling into words for he did not know, but it was the far faint cry of blood for blood and with it, mayhap, was mixed not alone the longing of the lion among jackals for other lions, but for his lioness.
They rode for many miles in silence when suddenly she turned, saying:
"You take your time, Sir Knight, in answering my query.Who be ye ?""I am Nor -- " and then he stopped.Always before he had answered that question with haughty pride.Why should he hesitate, he thought.Was it because he feared the loathing that name would inspire in the breast of this daughter of the aristocracy he despised ? Did Norman of Torn fear to face the look of seem and repugnance that was sure to be mirrored in that lovely face ?
"I am from Normandy," he went on quietly."A gentleman of France.""But your name ?" she said peremptorily."Are you ashamed of your name ?""You may call me Roger," he answered."Roger de Conde.""Raise your visor, Roger de Conde," she commanded."I do not take pleasure in riding with a suit of armor; I would see that there is a man within."Norman of Torn smiled as he did her bidding, and when he smiled thus, as he rarely did, he was good to look upon.
"It is the first command I have obeyed since I turned sixteen, Bertrade de Montfort," he said.
The girl was about nineteen, full of the vigor and gaiety of youth and health; and so the two rode on their journey talking and laughing as they might have been friends of long standing.
She told him of the reason for the attack upon her earlier in the day, attributing it to an attempt on the part of a certain baron, Peter of Colfax, to abduct her, his suit for her hand having been peremptorily and roughly denied by her father.
Simon de Montfort was no man to mince words, and it is doubtless that the old reprobate who sued for his daughter's hand heard some unsavory truths from the man who had twice scandalized England's nobility by his rude and discourteous, though true and candid, speeches to the King.
"This Peter of Colfax shall be looked to," growled Norman of Torn."And, as you have refused his heart and hand, his head shall be yours for the asking.You have but to command, Bertrade de Montfort.""Very well," she laughed, thinking it but the idle boasting so much indulged in in those days."You may bring me his head upon a golden dish, Roger de Conde.""And what reward does the knight earn who brings to the feet of his princess the head of her enemy ?" he asked lightly.
"What boon would the knight ask ?"
"That whatsoever a bad report you hear of your knight, of whatsoever calumnies may be heaped upon him, you shall yet ever be his friend, and believe in his honor and his loyalty."The girl laughed gaily as she answered, though something seemed to tell her that this was more than play.
"It shall be as you say, Sir Knight," she replied."And the boon once granted shall be always kept."Quick to reach decisions and as quick to act, Norman of Torn decided that he liked this girl and that he wished her friendship more than any other thing he knew of.And wishing it, he determined to win it by any means that accorded with his standard of honor; an honor which in many respects was higher than that of the nobles of his time.
They reached the castle of De Stutevill late in the afternoon, and there, Norman of Torn was graciously welcomed and urged to accept the Baron's hospitality overnight.
The grim humor of the situation was too much for the outlaw, and, when added to his new desire to be in the company of Bertrade de Montfort, he made no effort to resist, but hastened to accept the warm welcome.
At the long table upon which the evening meal was spread sat the entire household of the Baron, and here and there among the men were evidences of painful wounds but barely healed, while the host himself still wore his sword arm in a sling.
