Norman of Torn did not return to the castle of Leicester "in a few days,"nor for many months. For news came to him that Bertrade de Montfort hadbeen posted off to France in charge of her mother.

From now on, the forces of Torn were employed in repeated attacks onroyalist barons, encroaching ever and ever southward until even Berkshireand Surrey and Sussex felt the weight of the iron hand of the outlaw.

Nearly a year had elapsed since that day when he had held the fair form ofBertrade de Montfort in his arms, and in all that time he had heard no wordfrom her.

He would have followed her to France but for the fact that, after he hadparted from her and the intoxication of her immediate presence had left hisbrain clear to think rationally, he had realized the futility of his hopes,and he had seen that the pressing of his suit could mean only suffering andmortification for the woman he loved.

His better judgment told him that she, on her part, when freed from thesubtle spell woven by the nearness and the newness of a first love, woulddoubtless be glad to forget the words she had spoken in the heat of adivine passion. He would wait, then, until fate threw them together, andshould that ever chance, while she was still free, he would let her knowthat Roger de Conde and the Outlaw of Torn were one and the same.

If she wants me then, he thought, but she will not. No it is impossible.It is better that she marry her French prince than to live, dishonored, thewife of a common highwayman; for though she might love me at first, thebitterness and loneliness of her life would turn her love to hate.

As the outlaw was sitting one day in the little cottage of Father Claude,the priest reverted to the subject of many past conversations; theunsettled state of civil conditions in the realm, and the stand whichNorman of Torn would take when open hostilities between King and baron weredeclared.

"It would seem that Henry," said the priest, "by his continued breaches ofboth the spirit and letter of the Oxford Statutes, is but urging the baronsto resort to arms; and the fact that he virtually forced Prince Edward totake up arms against Humphrey de Bohun last fall, and to carry the ravagesof war throughout the Welsh border provinces, convinces me that he be, bythis time, well equipped to resist De Montfort and his associates."

"If that be the case," said Norman of Torn, "we shall have war and fightingin real earnest ere many months."

"And under which standard does My Lord Norman expect to fight ?" askedFather Claude.

"Under the black falcon's wing," laughed he of Torn.

"Thou be indeed a close-mouthed man, my son," said the priest, smiling."Such an attribute helpeth make a great statesman. With thy soldierlyqualities in addition, my dear boy, there be a great future for thee in thepaths of honest men. Dost remember our past talk ?"

"Yes, father, well; and often have I thought on't. I have one more duty toperform here in England and then, it may be, that I shall act on thysuggestion, but only on one condition."

"What be that, my son ?"

"That wheresoere I go, thou must go also. Thou be my best friend; intruth, my father; none other have I ever known, for the little old man ofTorn, even though I be the product of his loins, which I much mistrust, beno father to me."

The priest sat looking intently at the young man for many minutes before hespoke.

Without the cottage, a swarthy figure skulked beneath one of the windows,listening to such fragments of the conversation within as came to hisattentive ears. It was Spizo, the Spaniard. He crouched entirelyconcealed by a great lilac bush, which many times before had hid histraitorous form.

At length the priest spoke.

"Norman of Torn," he said, "so long as thou remain in England, pitting thygreat host against the Plantagenet King and the nobles and barons of hisrealm, thou be but serving as the cats-paw of another. Thyself hast saidan hundred times that thou knowst not the reason for thy hatred againstthem. Thou be too strong a man to so throw thy life uselessly away tosatisfy the choler of another.

"There be that of which I dare not speak to thee yet and only may I guessand dream of what I think, nor do I know whether I must hope that it befalse or true, but now, if ever, the time hath come for the question to besettled. Thou hast not told me in so many words, but I be an old man andversed in reading true between the lines, and so I know that thou lovestBertrade de Montfort. Nay, do not deny it. And now, what I would say bethis. In all England there lives no more honorable man than Simon deMontfort, nor none who could more truly decide upon thy future and thypast. Thou may not understand of what I hint, but thou know that thou maytrust me, Norman of Torn."

"Yea, even with my life and honor, my father," replied the outlaw.

"Then promise me, that with the old man of Torn alone, thou wilt comehither when I bidst thee and meet Simon de Montfort, and abide by hisdecision should my surmises concerning thee be correct. He will be thebest judge of any in England, save two who must now remain nameless."

"I will come, Father, but it must be soon for on the fourth day we ridesouth."

"It shall be by the third day, or not at all," replied Father Claude, andNorman of Torn, rising to leave, wondered at the moving leaves of the lilacbush without the window, for there was no breeze.

Spizo, the Spaniard, reached Torn several minutes before the outlaw chiefand had already poured his tale into the ears of the little, grim, gray,old man.

As the priest's words were detailed to him the old man of Torn paled inanger.

"The fool priest will upset the whole work to which I have devoted neartwenty years," he muttered, "if I find not the means to quiet his half-wittongue. Between priest and petticoat, it be all but ruined now. Wellthen, so much the sooner must I act, and I know not but that now be as gooda time as any. If we come near enough to the King's men on this tripsouth, the gibbet shall have its own, and a Plantagenet dog shall taste thefruits of his own tyranny," then glancing up and realizing that Spizo, theSpaniard, had been a listener, the old man, scowling, cried:

"What said I, sirrah ? What didst hear ?"

"Naught, My Lord; thou didst but mutter incoherently", replied theSpaniard.

The old man eyed him closely.

"An did I more, Spizo, thou heardst naught but muttering, remember."

"Yes, My Lord."

An hour later, the old man of Torn dismounted before the cottage of FatherClaude and entered.

"I am honored," said the priest, rising.

"Priest," cried the old man, coming immediately to the point, "Norman ofTorn tells me that thou wish him and me and Leicester to meet here. I knownot what thy purpose may be, but for the boy's sake, carry not out thydesign as yet. I may not tell thee my reasons, but it be best that thismeeting take place after we return from the south."

The old man had never spoken so fairly to Father Claude before, and so thelatter was quite deceived and promised to let the matter rest until later.

A few days after, in the summer of 1263, Norman of Torn rode at the head ofhis army of outlaws through the county of Essex, down toward London town.One thousand fighting men there were, with squires and other servants, andfive hundred sumpter beasts to transport their tents and other impedimenta,and bring back the loot.

But a small force of ailing men-at-arms, and servants had been left toguard the castle of Torn under the able direction of Peter the Hermit.

At the column's head rode Norman of Torn and the little grim, gray, oldman; and behind them, nine companies of knights, followed by the catapultdetachment; then came the sumpter beasts. Horsan the Dane, with hiscompany, formed the rear guard. Three hundred yards in advance of thecolumn rode ten men to guard against surprise and ambuscades.

The pennons, and the banners and the bugles; and the loud rattling ofsword, and lance and armor and iron-shod hoof carried to the eye and earample assurance that this great cavalcade of iron men was bent upon nopeaceful mission.

All his captains rode today with Norman of Torn. Beside those whom we havemet, there was Don Piedro Castro y Pensilo of Spain; Baron of Cobarth ofGermany, and Sir John Mandecote of England. Like their leader, each ofthese fierce warriors carried a great price upon his head, and the story ofthe life of any one would fill a large volume with romance, war, intrigue,treachery, bravery and death.

Toward noon one day, in the midst of a beautiful valley of Essex, they cameupon a party of ten knights escorting two young women. The meeting was ata turn in the road, so that the two parties were upon each other before theten knights had an opportunity to escape with their fair wards.

"What the devil be this," cried one of the knights, as the main body of theoutlaw horde came into view, "the King's army or one of his foreignlegions ?"

"It be Norman of Torn and his fighting men," replied the outlaw.

The faces of the knights blanched, for they were ten against a thousand,and there were two women with them.

"Who be ye ?" said the outlaw.

"I am Richard de Tany of Essex," said the oldest knight, he who had firstspoken, "and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary de Stutevill. Weare upon our way from London to my castle. What would you of us ? Nameyour price, if it can be paid with honor, it shall be paid; only let us goour way in peace. We cannot hope to resist the Devil of Torn, for we bebut ten lances. If ye must have blood, at least let the women gounharmed."

"My Lady Mary is an old friend," said the outlaw. "I called at herfather's home but little more than a year since. We are neighbors, and thelady can tell you that women are safer at the hands of Norman of Torn thanthey might be in the King's palace."

"Right he is," spoke up Lady Mary, "Norman of Torn accorded my mother, mysister, and myself the utmost respect; though I cannot say as much for histreatment of my father," she added, half smiling.

"I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany," said Norman of Torn. "Rideon."

The next day, a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castle ofRichard de Tany, telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger deConde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.

In a few moments, the great drawbridge sank slowly into place and Norman ofTorn trotted into the courtyard.

He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tanywere waiting to receive him. Mary de Stutevill greeted him as an oldfriend, and the daughter of de Tany was no less cordial in welcoming herfriend's friend to the hospitality of her father's castle.

"Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex," criedJoan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary. "Today it is Roger de Conde,yesterday it was the Outlaw of Torn. Methinks Derby will soon bedepopulated unless you return quickly to your home."

"I rather think it be for news of another that we owe this visit from Rogerde Conde," said Mary, smiling. "For I have heard tales, and I see a greatring upon the gentleman's hand -- a ring which I have seen before."

Norman of Torn made no attempt to deny the reason for his visit, but askedbluntly if she heard aught of Bertrade de Montfort.

"Thrice within the year have I received missives from her," replied Mary."In the first two she spoke only of Roger de Conde, wondering why he didnot come to France after her; but in the last she mentions not his name,but speaks of her approaching marriage with Prince Philip."

Both girls were watching the countenance of Roger de Conde narrowly, but nosign of the sorrow which filled his heart showed itself upon his face.

"I guess it be better so," he said quietly. "The daughter of a De Montfortcould scarcely be happy with a nameless adventurer," he added, a littlebitterly.

"You wrong her, my friend," said Mary de Stutevill. "She loved you and,unless I know not the friend of my childhood as well as I know myself, sheloves you yet; but Bertrade de Montfort is a proud woman and what can youexpect when she hears no word from you for a year ? Thought you that shewould seek you out and implore you to rescue her from the alliance herfather has made for her ?"

"You do not understand," he answered, "and I may not tell you; but I askthat you believe me when I say that it was for her own peace of mind, forher own happiness, that I did not follow her to France. But, let us talkof other things. The sorrow is mine and I would not force it upon others.I cared only to know that she is well, and, I hope, happy. It will neverbe given to me to make her or any other woman so. I would that I had nevercome into her life, but I did not know what I was doing; and the spell ofher beauty and goodness was strong upon me, so that I was weak and couldnot resist what I had never known before in all my life - love."

"You could not well be blamed," said Joan de Tany, generously. "Bertradede Montfort is all and even more than you have said; it be a benedictionsimply to have known her."

As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first time,and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she spoke, herface lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of intelligence andcharacter that cast a spell of fascination about her. Yes, Joan de Tanywas good to look upon, and Norman of Torn carried a wounded heart in hisbreast that longed for surcease from its sufferings -- for a healing balmupon its hurts and bruises.

And so it came to pass that, for many days, the Outlaw of Torn was a dailyvisitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintance between theman and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and with one of them,it threatened even more.

Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only friendshipin the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hard and lonelyone. The only ray of brilliant and warming sunshine that had entered ithad been his love for Bertrade de Montfort and hers for him.

His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he knew was not for him, buthe longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed thefriendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest. He did not dreamthat either looked upon him with any warmer sentiment than the sweetfriendliness which was as new to him as love -- how could he mark the linebetween or foresee the terrible price of his ignorance !

Mary de Stutevill saw and she thought the man but fickle and shallow inmatters of the heart -- many there were, she knew, who were thus. Shemight have warned him had she known the truth, but instead, she let thingsdrift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.

"Be careful of thy heart, Joan," she said, "lest it be getting away fromthee into the keeping of one who seems to love no less quickly than heforgets."

The daughter of De Tany flushed.

"I am quite capable of safeguarding my own heart, Mary de Stutevill," shereplied warmly. "If thou covet this man thyself, why, but say so. Do notthink though that, because thy heart glows in his presence, mine is equallysusceptible."

It was Mary's turn now to show offense, and a sharp retort was on hertongue when suddenly she realized the folly of such a useless quarrel.Instead she put her arms about Joan and kissed her.

"I do not love him," she said, "and I be glad that you do not, for I knowthat Bertrade does, and that but a short year since, he swore undying lovefor her. Let us forget that we have spoken on the subject."

It was at this time that the King's soldiers were harassing the lands ofthe rebel barons, and taking a heavy toll in revenge for their stingingdefeat at Rochester earlier in the year, so that it was scarcely safe forsmall parties to venture upon the roadways lest they fall into the hands ofthe mercenaries of Henry III.

Not even were the wives and daughters of the barons exempt from the attacksof the royalists; and it was no uncommon occurrence to find them sufferingimprisonment, and something worse, at the hands of the King's supporters.

And in the midst of these alarms, it entered the willful head of Joan deTany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of themerchants.

While London itself was solidly for the barons and against the King'sparty, the road between the castle of Richard de Tany and the city ofLondon was beset with many dangers.

"Why," cried the girl's mother in exasperation, "between robbers androyalists and the Outlaw of Torn, you would not be safe if you had an armyto escort you."

"But then, as I have no army," retorted the laughing girl, "if you reasonby your own logic, I shall be indeed quite safe."

And when Roger de Conde attempted to dissuade her, she taunted him withbeing afraid of meeting with the Devil of Torn, and told him that he mightremain at home and lock himself safely in her mother's pantry.

And so, as Joan de Tany was a spoiled child, they set out upon the road toLondon; the two girls with a dozen servants and knights; and Roger de Condewas of the party.

At the same time a grim, gray, old man dispatched a messenger from theoutlaw's camp; a swarthy fellow, disguised as a priest, whose orders wereto proceed to London, and when he saw the party of Joan de Tany, with Rogerde Conde, enter the city, he was to deliver the letter he bore to thecaptain of the gate.

The letter contained this brief message:

"The tall knight in gray with closed helm is Norman of Torn," and wasunsigned.

All went well and Joan was laughing merrily at the fears of those who hadattempted to dissuade her when, at a cross road, they discovered twoparties of armed men approaching from opposite directions. The leader ofthe nearer party spurred forward to intercept the little band, and, reiningin before them, cried brusquely,

"Who be ye ?"

"A party on a peaceful mission to the shops of London," replied Norman ofTorn.

"I asked not your mission," cried the fellow. "I asked, who be ye ?Answer, and be quick about it."

"I be Roger de Conde, gentleman of France, and these be my sisters andservants," lied the outlaw, "and were it not that the ladies be with me,your answer would be couched in steel, as you deserve for your boorishinsolence."

"There be plenty of room and time for that even now, you dog of a Frenchcoward," cried the officer, couching his lance as he spoke.

Joan de Tany was sitting her horse where she could see the face of Roger deConde, and it filled her heart with pride and courage as she saw andunderstood the little smile of satisfaction that touched his lips as heheard the man's challenge and lowered the point of his own spear.

Wheeling their horses toward one another, the two combatants, who were someninety feet apart, charged at full tilt. As they came together the impactwas so great that both horses were nearly overturned and the two powerfulwar lances were splintered into a hundred fragments as each struck theexact center of his opponent's shield. Then, wheeling their horses andthrowing away the butts of their now useless lances, De Conde and theofficer advanced with drawn swords.

The fellow made a most vicious return assault upon De Conde, attempting toride him down in one mad rush, but his thrust passed harmlessly from thetip of the outlaw's sword, and as the officer wheeled back to renew thebattle, they settled down to fierce combat, their horses wheeling andturning shoulder to shoulder.

The two girls sat rigid in their saddles watching the encounter, the eyesof Joan de Tany alight with the fire of battle as she followed every moveof the wondrous swordplay of Roger de Conde.

He had not even taken the precaution to lower his visor, and the grim andhaughty smile that played upon his lips spoke louder than many words theutter contempt in which he held the sword of his adversary. And as Joan deTany watched, she saw the smile suddenly freeze to a cold, hard line, andthe eyes of the man narrow to mere slits, and her woman's intuition readthe death warrant of the King's officer ere the sword of the outlaw burieditself in his heart.

The other members of the two bodies of royalist soldiers had sat spellboundas they watched the battle, but now, as their leader's corpse rolled fromthe saddle, they spurred furiously in upon De Conde and his little party.

The Baron's men put up a noble fight, but the odds were heavy and even withthe mighty arm of Norman of Torn upon their side the outcome was apparentfrom the first.

Five swords were flashing about the outlaw, but his blade was equal to thethrust and one after another of his assailants crumpled up in their saddlesas his leaping point found their vitals.

Nearly all of the Baron's men were down, when one, an old servitor, spurredto the side of Joan de Tany and Mary de Stutevill.

"Come, my ladies," he cried, "quick and you may escape. They be so busywith the battle that they will never notice."

"Take the Lady Mary, John," cried Joan, "I brought Roger de Conde to thispass against the advice of all and I remain with him to the end."

"But, My Lady -- " cried John.

"But nothing, sirrah !" she interrupted sharply. "Do as you are bid.Follow my Lady Mary, and see that she comes to my father's castle insafety," and raising her riding whip, she struck Mary's palfrey across therump so that the animal nearly unseated his fair rider as he leapedfrantically to one side and started madly up the road down which they hadcome.

"After her, John," commanded Joan peremptorily, and see that you turn notback until she be safe within the castle walls; then you may bring aid."

The old fellow had been wont to obey the imperious little Lady Joan fromher earliest childhood, and the habit was so strong upon him that hewheeled his horse and galloped after the flying palfrey of the Lady Mary deStutevill.

As Joan de Tany turned again to the encounter before her, she saw fullytwenty men surrounding Roger de Conde, and while he was taking heavy tollof those before him, he could not cope with the men who attacked him frombehind; and even as she looked, she saw a battle axe fall full upon hishelm, and his sword drop from his nerveless fingers as his lifeless bodyrolled from the back of Sir Mortimer to the battle-tramped clay of thehighroad.

She slid quickly from her palfrey and ran fearlessly toward his prostrateform, reckless of the tangled mass of snorting, trampling, steel-cladhorses, and surging fighting-men that surrounded him. And well it was forNorman of Torn that this brave girl was there that day, for even as shereached his side, the sword point of one of the soldiers was at his throatfor the coup de grace.

With a cry, Joan de Tany threw herself across the outlaw's body, shieldinghim as best she could from the threatening sword.

Cursing loudly, the soldier grasped her roughly by the arm to drag her fromhis prey, but at this juncture, a richly armored knight galloped up anddrew rein beside the party.

The newcomer was a man of about forty-five or fifty; tall, handsome,black-mustached and with the haughty arrogance of pride most often seenupon the faces of those who have been raised by unmerited favor topositions of power and affluence.

He was John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, a foreigner by birth and for yearsone of the King's favorites; the bitterest enemy of De Montfort and thebarons.

"What now ?" he cried. "What goes on here ?"

The soldiers fell back, and one of them replied:

"A party of the King's enemies attacked us, My Lord Earl, but we routedthem, taking these two prisoners."

"Who be ye ?" he said, turning toward Joan who was kneeling beside DeConde, and as she raised her head, "My God ! The daughter of De Tany ! anoble prize indeed my men. And who be the knight ?"

"Look for yourself, My Lord Earl," replied the girl removing the helm,which she had been unlacing from the fallen man.

"Edward ?" he ejaculated. "But no, it cannot be, I did but yesterday leaveEdward in Dover."

"I know not who he be," said Joan de Tany, "except that he be the mostmarvelous fighter and the bravest man it has ever been given me to see. Hecalled himself Roger de Conde, but I know nothing of him other than that helooks like a prince, and fights like a devil. I think he has no quarrelwith either side, My Lord, and so, as you certainly do not make war onwomen, you will let us go our way in peace as we were when your soldierswantonly set upon us."

"A De Tany, madam, were a great and valuable capture in these troubloustimes," replied the Earl, "and that alone were enough to necessitate mykeeping you; but a beautiful De Tany is yet a different matter and so Iwill grant you at least one favor. I will not take you to the King, but aprisoner you shall be in mine own castle for I am alone, and need thecheering company of a fair and loving lady."

The girl's head went high as she looked the Earl full in the eye.

"Think you, John de Fulm, Earl of Buckingham, that you be talking to somecomely scullery maid ? Do you forget that my house is honored in England,even though it does not share the King's favors with his foreign favorites,and you owe respect to a daughter of a De Tany ?"

"All be fair in war, my beauty," replied the Earl. "Egad," he continued,"methinks all would be fair in hell were they like unto you. It has beensome years since I have seen you and I did not know the old fox Richard deTany kept such a package as this hid in his grimy old castle."

"Then you refuse to release us ?" said Joan de Tany.

"Let us not put it thus harshly," countered the Earl. "Rather let us saythat it be so late in the day, and the way so beset with dangers that theEarl of Buckingham could not bring himself to expose the beautiful daughterof his old friend to the perils of the road, and so -- "

"Let us have an end to such foolishness," cried the girl. "I might haveexpected naught better from a turncoat foreign knave such as thee, who oncejoined in the councils of De Montfort, and then betrayed his friends tocurry favor with the King."

The Earl paled with rage, and pressed forward as though to strike the girl,but thinking better of it, he turned to one of the soldiers, saying:

"Bring the prisoner with you. If the man lives bring him also. I wouldlearn more of this fellow who masquerades in the countenance of a crownprince."

And turning, he spurred on towards the neighboring castle of a rebel baronwhich had been captured by the royalists, and was now used as headquartersby De Fulm.