The visit of Bertrade de Montfort with her friend Mary de Stutevill wasdrawing to a close. Three weeks had passed since Roger de Conde had riddenout from the portals of Stutevill and many times the handsome youngknight's name had been on the lips of his fair hostess and her fairerfriend.

Today the two girls roamed slowly through the gardens of the great court,their arms about each other's waists, pouring the last confidences intoeach other's ears, for tomorrow Bertrade had elected to return toLeicester.

"Methinks thou be very rash indeed, my Bertrade," said Mary. "Wert myfather here he would, I am sure, not permit thee to leave with only thesmall escort which we be able to give."

"Fear not, Mary," replied Bertrade. "Five of thy father's knights be ampleprotection for so short a journey. By evening it will have beenaccomplished; and, as the only one I fear in these parts received such asound set back from Roger de Conde recently, I do not think he will ventureagain to molest me."

"But what about the Devil of Torn, Bertrade ?" urged Mary. "Onlyyestereve, you wot, one of Lord de Grey's men-at-arms came limping to uswith the news of the awful carnage the foul fiend had wrought on hismaster's household. He be abroad, Bertrade, and I canst think of naughtmore horrible than to fall into his hands."

"Why, Mary, thou didst but recently say thy very self that Norman of Tornwas most courteous to thee when he sacked this, thy father's castle. Howbe it thou so soon has changed thy mind ?"

"Yes, Bertrade, he was indeed respectful then, but who knows what horridfreak his mind may take, and they do say that he be cruel beyond compare.Again, forget not that thou be Leicester's daughter and Henry's niece;against both of whom the Outlaw of Torn openly swears his hatred and hisvengeance. Oh, Bertrade, wait but for a day or so, I be sure my fathermust return ere then, and fifty knights shall accompany thee instead offive."

"What be fifty knights against Norman of Torn, Mary ? Thy reasoning is ona parity with thy fears, both have flown wide of the mark.

"If I am to meet with this wild ruffian, it were better that five knightswere sacrificed than fifty, for either number would be but a mouthful tothat horrid horde of unhung murderers. No, Mary, I shall start tomorrowand your good knights shall return the following day with the best of wordfrom me."

"If thou wilst, thou wilst," cried Mary petulantly. "Indeed it were plainthat thou be a De Montfort; that race whose historic bravery be second onlyto their historic stubbornness."

Bertrade de Montfort laughed, and kissed her friend upon the cheek.

"Mayhap I shall find the brave Roger de Conde again upon the highroad toprotect me. Then indeed shall I send back your five knights, for of atruth, his blade is more powerful than that of any ten men I ere saw fightbefore."

"Methinks," said Mary, still peeved at her friend's determination to leaveon the morrow, "that should you meet the doughty Sir Roger all unarmed,that still would you send back my father's knights."

Bertrade flushed, and then bit her lip as she felt the warm blood mount toher cheek.

"Thou be a fool, Mary," she said.

Mary broke into a joyful, teasing laugh; hugely enjoying the discomfitureof the admission the tell-tale flush proclaimed.

"Ah, I did but guess how thy heart and thy mind tended, Bertrade; but now Iseest that I divined all too truly. He be indeed good to look upon, butwhat knowest thou of him ?"

"Hush, Mary !" commanded Bertrade. "Thou know not what thou sayest. Iwould not wipe my feet upon him, I care naught whatever for him, andthen -- it has been three weeks since he rode out from Stutevill and noword hath he sent."

"Oh, ho," cried the little plague, "so there lies the wind ? My Lady wouldnot wipe her feet upon him, but she be sore vexed that he has sent her noword. Mon Dieu, but thou hast strange notions, Bertrade."

"I will not talk with you, Mary," cried Bertrade, stamping her sandaledfoot, and with a toss of her pretty head she turned abruptly toward thecastle.

In a small chamber in the castle of Colfax two men sat at opposite sides ofa little table. The one, Peter of Colfax, was short and very stout. Hisred, bloated face, bleary eyes and bulbous nose bespoke the manner of hislife; while his thick lips, the lower hanging large and flabby over hisreceding chin, indicated the base passions to which his life and beengiven. His companion was a little, grim, gray man but his suit of armorand closed helm gave no hint to his host of whom his guest might be. Itwas the little armored man who was speaking.

"Is it not enough that I offer to aid you, Sir Peter," he said, "that youmust have my reasons ? Let it go that my hate of Leicester be the passionwhich moves me. Thou failed in thy attempt to capture the maiden; give meten knights and I will bring her to you."

"How knowest thou she rides out tomorrow for her father's castle ?" askedPeter of Colfax.

"That again be no concern of thine, my friend, but I do know it, and, ifthou wouldst have her, be quick, for we should ride out tonight that we maytake our positions by the highway in ample time tomorrow."

Still Peter of Colfax hesitated, he feared this might be a ruse ofLeicester's to catch him in some trap. He did not know his guest -- thefellow might want the girl for himself and be taking this method ofobtaining the necessary assistance to capture her.

"Come," said the little, armored man irritably. "I cannot bide hereforever. Make up thy mind; it be nothing to me other than my revenge, andif thou wilst not do it, I shall hire the necessary ruffians and then noteven thou shalt see Bertrade de Montfort more."

This last threat decided the Baron.

"It is agreed," he said. "The men shall ride out with you in half anhour. Wait below in the courtyard."

When the little man had left the apartment, Peter of Colfax summoned hissquire whom he had send to him at once one of his faithful henchmen.

"Guy," said Peter of Colfax, as the man entered, "ye made a rare fizzle ofa piece of business some weeks ago. Ye wot of which I speak ?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"It chances that on the morrow ye may have opportunity to retrieve thyblunder. Ride out with ten men where the stranger who waits in thecourtyard below shall lead ye, and come not back without that which ye lostto a handful of men before. You understand ?"

"Yes, My Lord !"

"And, Guy, I half mistrust this fellow who hath offered to assist us. Atthe first sign of treachery, fall upon him with all thy men and slay him.Tell the others that these be my orders."

"Yes, My Lord. When do we ride ?"

"At once. You may go."

The morning that Bertrade de Montfort had chosen to return to her father'scastle dawned gray and threatening. In vain did Mary de Stutevill pleadwith her friend to give up the idea of setting out upon such a dismal dayand without sufficient escort, but Bertrade de Montfort was firm.

"Already have I overstayed my time three days, and it is not lightly thateven I, his daughter, fail in obedience to Simon de Montfort. I shall haveenough to account for as it be. Do not urge me to add even one more day tomy excuses. And again, perchance, my mother and my father may be soredistressed by my continued absence. No, Mary, I must ride today." And soshe did, with the five knights that could be spared from the castle'sdefence.

Scarcely half an hour had elapsed before a cold drizzle set in, so thatthey were indeed a sorry company that splashed along the muddy road,wrapped in mantle and surcoat. As they proceeded, the rain and windincreased in volume, until it was being driven into their faces in suchblinding gusts that they must needs keep their eyes closed and trust to theinstincts of their mounts.

Less than half the journey had been accomplished. They were winding acrossa little hollow toward a low ridge covered with dense forest, into thesomber shadows of which the road wound. There was a glint of armor amongthe drenched foliage, but the rain-buffeted eyes of the riders saw it not.On they came, their patient horses plodding slowly through the sticky roadand hurtling storm.

Now they were half way up the ridge's side. There was a movement in thedark shadows of the grim wood, and then, without cry or warning, a band ofsteel-clad horsemen broke forth with couched spears. Charging at full rundown upon them, they overthrew three of the girl's escort before a blowcould be struck in her defense. Her two remaining guardians wheeled tomeet the return attack, and nobly did they acquit themselves, for it tookthe entire eleven who were pitted against them to overcome and slay thetwo.

In the melee, none had noticed the girl, but presently one of herassailants, a little, grim, gray man, discovered that she had put spurs toher palfrey and escaped. Calling to his companions he set out at a rapidpace in pursuit.

Reckless of the slippery road and the blinding rain, Bertrade de Montforturged her mount into a wild run, for she had recognized the arms of Peterof Colfax on the shields of several of the attacking party.

Nobly, the beautiful Arab bent to her call for speed. The great beasts ofher pursuers, bred in Normandy and Flanders, might have been tethered intheir stalls for all the chance they had of overtaking the flying whitesteed that fairly split the gray rain as lightning flies through theclouds.

But for the fiendish cunning of the little grim, gray man's foresight,Bertrade de Montfort would have made good her escape that day. As it was,however, her fleet mount had carried her but two hundred yards ere, in themidst of the dark wood, she ran full upon a rope stretched across theroadway between two trees.

As the horse fell, with a terrible lunge, tripped by the stout rope,Bertrade de Montfort was thrown far before him, where she lay, a little,limp bedraggled figure, in the mud of the road.

There they found her. The little, grim, gray man did not even dismount, soindifferent was he to her fate; dead or in the hands of Peter of Colfax, itwas all the same to him. In either event, his purpose would beaccomplished, and Bertrade de Montfort would no longer lure Norman of Tornfrom the path he had laid out for him.

That such an eventuality threatened, he knew from one Spizo the Spaniard,the single traitor in the service of Norman of Torn, whose mean aid thelittle grim, gray man had purchased since many months to spy upon thecomings and goings of the great outlaw.

The men of Peter of Colfax gathered up the lifeless form of Bertrade deMontfort and placed it across the saddle before one of their number.

"Come," said the man called Guy, "if there be life left in her, we musthasten to Sir Peter before it be extinct."

"I leave ye here," said the little old man. "My part of the business isdone."

And so he sat watching them until they had disappeared in the forest towardthe castle of Colfax.

Then he rode back to the scene of the encounter where lay the five knightsof Sir John de Stutevill. Three were already dead, the other two, sorelybut not mortally wounded, lay groaning by the roadside.

The little grim, gray man dismounted as he came abreast of them and, withhis long sword, silently finished the two wounded men. Then, drawing hisdagger, he made a mark upon the dead foreheads of each of the five, andmounting, rode rapidly toward Torn.

"And if one fact be not enough," he muttered, "that mark upon the dead willquite effectually stop further intercourse between the houses of Torn andLeicester."

Henry de Montfort, son of Simon, rode fast and furious at the head of adozen of his father's knights on the road to Stutevill.

Bertrade de Montfort was so long overdue that the Earl and PrincessEleanor, his wife, filled with grave apprehensions, had posted their oldestson off to the castle of John de Stutevill to fetch her home.

With the wind and rain at their backs, the little party rode rapidly alongthe muddy road, until late in the afternoon they came upon a white palfreystanding huddled beneath a great oak, his arched back toward the drivingstorm.

"By God," cried De Montfort, "tis my sister's own Abdul. There besomething wrong here indeed." But a rapid search of the vicinity, and loudcalls brought no further evidence of the girl's whereabouts, so theypressed on toward Stutevill.

Some two miles beyond the spot where the white palfrey had been found, theycame upon the dead bodies of the five knights who had accompanied Bertradefrom Stutevill.

Dismounting, Henry de Montfort examined the bodies of the fallen men. Thearms upon shield and helm confirmed his first fear that these had beenBertrade's escort from Stutevill.

As he bent over them to see if he recognized any of the knights, therestared up into his face from the foreheads of the dead men the dreadedsign, NT, scratched there with a dagger's point.

"The curse of God be on him !" cried De Montfort. "It be the work of theDevil of Torn, my gentlemen," he said to his followers. "Come, we need nofurther guide to our destination." And, remounting, the little partyspurred back toward Torn.

When Bertrade de Montfort regained her senses, she was in bed in a strangeroom, and above her bent an old woman; a repulsive, toothless old woman,whose smile was but a fangless snarl.

"Ho, ho !" she croaked. "The bride waketh. I told My Lord that it wouldtake more than a tumble in the mud to kill a De Montfort. Come, come, now,arise and clothe thyself, for the handsome bridegroom canst scarce restrainhis eager desire to fold thee in his arms. Below in the great hall hepaces to and fro, the red blood mantling his beauteous countenance."

"Who be ye ?" cried Bertrade de Montfort, her mind still dazed from theeffects of her fall. "Where am I ?" and then, "O, Mon Dieu !" as sheremembered the events of the afternoon; and the arms of Colfax upon theshields of the attacking party. In an instant she realized the horror ofher predicament; its utter hopelessness.

Beast though he was, Peter of Colfax stood high in the favor of the King;and the fact that she was his niece would scarce aid her cause with Henry,for it was more than counter-balanced by the fact that she was the daughterof Simon de Montfort, whom he feared and hated.

In the corridor without, she heard the heavy tramp of approaching feet, andpresently a man's voice at the door.

"Within there, Coll ! Hast the damsel awakened from her swoon ?"

"Yes, Sir Peter," replied the old woman, "I was but just urging her toarise and clothe herself, saying that you awaited her below."

"Haste then, My Lady Bertrade," called the man, "no harm will be done theeif thou showest the good sense I give thee credit for. I will await theein the great hall, or, if thou prefer, wilt come to thee here."

The girl paled, more in loathing and contempt than in fear, but the tonesof her answer were calm and level.

"I will see thee below, Sir Peter, anon," and rising, she hastened todress, while the receding footsteps of the Baron diminished down thestairway which led from the tower room in which she was imprisoned.

The old woman attempted to draw her into conversation, but the girl wouldnot talk. Her whole mind was devoted to weighing each possible means ofescape.

A half hour later, she entered the great hall of the castle of Peter ofColfax. The room was empty. Little change had been wrought in theapartment since the days of Ethelwolf. As the girl's glance ranged thehall in search of her jailer it rested upon the narrow, unglazed windowsbeyond which lay freedom. Would she ever again breathe God's pure airoutside these stifling walls ? These grimy hateful walls ! Black as theinky rafters and wainscot except for occasional splotches a few shades lessbegrimed, where repairs had been made. As her eyes fell upon the trophiesof war and chase which hung there her lips curled in scorn, for she knewthat they were acquisitions by inheritance rather than by the personalprowess of the present master of Colfax.

A single cresset lighted the chamber, while the flickering light from asmall wood fire upon one of the two great hearths seemed rather toaccentuate the dim shadows of the place.

Bertrade crossed the room and leaned against a massive oak table, blackenedby age and hard usage to the color of the beams above, dented and nicked bythe pounding of huge drinking horns and heavy swords when wild and lustybrawlers had been moved to applause by the lay of some wandering minstrel,or the sterner call of their mighty chieftains for the oath of fealty.

Her wandering eyes took in the dozen benches and the few rude, heavy chairswhich completed the rough furnishings of this rough room, and sheshuddered. One little foot tapped sullenly upon the disordered floor whichwas littered with a miscellany of rushes interspread with such bones andscraps of food as the dogs had rejected or overlooked.

But to none of these surroundings did Bertrade de Montfort give but passingheed; she looked for the man she sought that she might quickly have theencounter over and learn what fate the future held in store for her.

Her quick glance had shown her that the room was quite empty, and that inaddition to the main doorway at the lower end of the apartment, where shehad entered, there was but one other door leading from the hall. This wasat one side, and as it stood ajar she could see that it led into a smallroom, apparently a bedchamber.

As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind her anddirectly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From the blackmouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he closed thepanel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl. Atthe edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attract herattention.

If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of hisappearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head as shesaid:

"What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treacheryagainst thy neighbor's daughter and thy sovereign's niece ?"

"When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent," replied the pot-belliedold beast in a soft and fawning tone, "love must still find its way; and sothy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy great father and majesticuncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteous Bertrade, knowing fullwell that thine hath been hungering after it since we didst first avow ourlove to thy hard-hearted sire. See, I kneel to thee, my dove !" And withcracking joints the fat baron plumped down upon his marrow bones.

Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into asneering smile.

"Thou art a fool, Sir Peter," she said, "and, at that, the worst species offool -- an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause, for I willhave none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word ofwhat hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go, 'tis all Iask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you would have.I do not love you, nor ever can I."

Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his alreadyruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to rise withdignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the fact that hishuge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all fours before he couldrise, so that he got up much after the manner of a cow, raising his sternhigh in air in a most ludicrous fashion. As he gained his feet he saw thegirl turn her head from him to hide the laughter on her face.

"Return to thy chamber," he thundered. "I will give thee until tomorrow todecide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or takeanother position in his household which will bar thee for all time from thesociety of thy kind."

The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips.

"I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched,degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hast notthe guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for well ye knowthat Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his own hand if heever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me, his daughter."And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, and mounted to hertower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax.

The old woman kept watch over her during the night and until late thefollowing afternoon, when Peter of Colfax summoned his prisoner before himonce more. So terribly had the old hag played upon the girl's fears thatshe felt fully certain that the Baron was quite equal to his dire threat,and so she had again been casting about for some means of escape or delay.

The room in which she was imprisoned was in the west tower of the castle,fully a hundred feet above the moat, which the single embrasureoverlooked. There was, therefore, no avenue of escape in this direction.The solitary door was furnished with huge oaken bars, and itself composedof mighty planks of the same wood, cross barred with iron.

If she could but get the old woman out, thought Bertrade, she couldbarricade herself within and thus delay, at least, her impending fate inthe hope that succor might come from some source. But her most subtlewiles proved ineffectual in ridding her, even for a moment, of her harpyjailer; and now that the final summons had come, she was beside herself fora lack of means to thwart her captor.

Her dagger had been taken from her, but one hung from the girdle of the oldwoman and this Bertrade determined to have.

Feigning trouble with the buckle of her own girdle, she called upon the oldwoman to aid her, and as the hag bent her head close to the girl's body tosee what was wrong with the girdle clasp, Bertrade reached quickly to herside and snatched the weapon from its sheath. Quickly she sprang back fromthe old woman who, with a cry of anger and alarm, rushed upon her.

"Back !" cried the girl. "Stand back, old hag, or thou shalt feel thelength of thine own blade."

The woman hesitated and then fell to cursing and blaspheming in a mosthorrible manner, at the same time calling for help.

Bertrade backed to the door, commanding the old woman to remain where shewas, on pain of death, and quickly dropped the mighty bars into place.Scarcely had the last great bolt been slipped than Peter of Colfax, with adozen servants and men-at-arms, were pounding loudly upon the outside.

"What's wrong within, Coll," cried the Baron.

"The wench has wrested my dagger from me and is murdering me," shrieked theold woman.

"An' that I will truly do, Peter of Colfax," spoke Bertrade, "if you do notimmediately send for my friends to conduct me from thy castle, for I willnot step my foot from this room until I know that mine own people standwithout."

Peter of Colfax pled and threatened, commanded and coaxed, but all invain. So passed the afternoon, and as darkness settled upon the castle theBaron desisted from his attempts, intending to starve his prisoner out.

Within the little room, Bertrade de Montfort sat upon a bench guarding herprisoner, from whom she did not dare move her eyes for a single second.All that long night she sat thus, and when morning dawned, it found herposition unchanged, her tired eyes still fixed upon the hag.

Early in the morning, Peter of Colfax resumed his endeavors to persuade herto come out; he even admitted defeat and promised her safe conduct to herfather's castle, but Bertrade de Montfort was not one to be fooled by hislying tongue.

"Then will I starve you out," he cried at length.

"Gladly will I starve in preference to falling into thy foul hands,"replied the girl. "But thy old servant here will starve first, for she bevery old and not so strong as I. Therefore, how will it profit you to killtwo and still be robbed of thy prey ?"

Peter of Colfax entertained no doubt but that his fair prisoner would carryout her threat and so he set his men to work with cold chisels, axes andsaws upon the huge door.

For hours, they labored upon that mighty work of defence, and it was lateat night ere they made a little opening large enough to admit a hand andarm, but the first one intruded within the room to raise the bars was drawnquickly back with a howl of pain from its owner. Thus the keen dagger inthe girl's hand put an end to all hopes of entering without completelydemolishing the door.

To this work, the men without then set themselves diligently while Peter ofColfax renewed his entreaties, through the small opening they had made.Bertrade replied but once.

"Seest thou this poniard ?" she asked. "When that door falls, this pointenters my heart. There is nothing beyond that door, with thou, poltroon,to which death in this little chamber would not be preferable."

As she spoke, she turned toward the man she was addressing, for the firsttime during all those weary, hideous hours removing her glance from the oldhag. It was enough. Silently, but with the quickness of a tigress the oldwoman was upon her back, one claw-like paw grasping the wrist which heldthe dagger.

"Quick, My Lord !" she shrieked, "the bolts, quick."

Instantly Peter of Colfax ran his arm through the tiny opening in the doorand a second later four of his men rushed to the aid of the old woman.

Easily they wrested the dagger from Bertrade's fingers, and at the Baron'sbidding, they dragged her to the great hall below.

As his retainers left the room at his command, Peter of Colfax strode backand forth upon the rushes which strewed the floor. Finally he stoppedbefore the girl standing rigid in the center of the room.

"Hast come to thy senses yet, Bertrade de Montfort ?" he asked angrily. "Ihave offered you your choice; to be the honored wife of Peter of Colfax,or, by force, his mistress. The good priest waits without, what be youranswer now ?"

"The same as it has been these past two days," she replied with haughtyscorn. "The same that it shall always be. I will be neither wife normistress to a coward; a hideous, abhorrent pig of a man. I would die, itseems, if I felt the touch of your hand upon me. You do not dare to touchme, you craven. I, the daughter of an earl, the niece of a king, wed tothe warty toad, Peter of Colfax !"

"Hold, chit !" cried the Baron, livid with rage. "You have gone too far.Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love ere thesun rises." And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the arm,and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room.