The road through the forest wound steadily upward, and when they had left behind them the red moors and braes, the heaving, shimmering sea, they gained no view of the open, and but scant glimpses of the sky, so thickly interwoven were the leafy branches above their heads, till they had emerged upon a furzed and brambled down that commanded an uninterrupted prospect for many miles around.

The scene then spread before them was one of superb grandeur, and well repaid them for their march of five hours up the long and tedious slope, of which the point where they were now come marked the extreme summit. The sea had disappeared out of the range of their vision, and in every direction the land dipped away in a myriad of mounds and hills, with splotches of golden gorse dotting their tops and sides, till the last of them was lost in a purple haze that hung above the indefinite, circular rim of the horizon; a fleecy wrack of clouds tossed before the light wind across the deep blue dome of the sky. These, speeding between sun and earth, sent patches of light and shadow in a swift pursuit of each other up and down over the breast of the sweet landscape as though they were playing at some pretty game.

Here, word passed among the men that they might dismount to bait themselves and their horses and enjoy a brief period of rest before resuming the march. Amidst resounding talk and laughter they clambered out of their saddles, tethered their steeds where the grass grew most abundantly, and proceeded to make themselves comfortable, after the campaigner's fashion, by sprawling at full length upon the velvety turf in the agreeable warmth of the sun. Meanwhile, serving-men were addressing themselves to the work of gathering armfuls of dried hemlock twigs, building fires over which to warm the pastys, and broaching casks of stum.

A bright-faced youth, who had evidently been appointed equerry to Sir Richard, approached and signified his readiness to take charge of the young knight's horse. Sir Richard dismounted, gave the reins into the youth's hands, and joined Lord Kennedy, who was leaning against a curiously stunted cedar that grew from the brink of a steep declivity near at hand. Within his mind, Sir Richard had applied the nickname of "Taciturnitus" to his silent companion of the morning, and he was surprised to observe the grim warrior-churchman drinking in the glorious scene with a keen zest of which he had deemed him altogether incapable. For quite a space they stood side by side, silently contemplating the diversified beauties of the landscape that unrolled before them from the sky-line to the base of the cliff.

Here and there, filmy pennants of white smoke, indicating the location of shepherds' cottages, would fling from behind the masses of foliage upon the farther hillsides. There was but one structure visible, however; a rambling pile of gray stone, shot with a trinity of embattled towers, which was nestled along the slope of a down, some three leagues distant from where they were standing.

"What is that building yonder, my lord?" queried Sir Richard, indicating its location with outstretched hand and finger.

"That," replied Bishop Kennedy, "is the Black Friar's Monastery. Our way, sir knight, leads directly beneath its sealed portcullis, which is opened but once in the year, and then only for the purpose of admitting its annual quota of novices. The final glance of the probationer's eye upon a free earth and heaven embraces this bit bonnie scene. When he is quit of the damp cell and noisome cloister, the crypt, lying within the belly of the hill, becomes the final repository of his lime-bleached bones."

While Bishop Kennedy was talking Sir Richard's attention had been directed toward a solitary traveler, who was drawing near along the road that wound around the foot of the cliff and swept over the hill upon which his captors were bivouacing. The pilgrim was mounted upon a round-bodied, slow moving and remarkably long-eared donkey, which was exactly of a color with the rider's voluminous, cowled robe. As he came within easy view it could be seen that he was diligently poring over some sheets of manuscript. It appeared not to annoy the reader in the least when the donkey stopped, which it did every little while, to scratch its underside with its hind hoof.

"Well, by my Faith!" exclaimed Bishop Kennedy, with a display of genuine enthusiasm upon catching sight of the pilgrim.

"You know him, my lord?"

"Yea?—?that I do, Sir Richard. Upon the round back of yonder ass rides a scholar, sir knight, whose fame will one day be proclaimed over all the land. Aye?—?and whose name shall live when thine and mine have been erased along with the epitaphs upon our tombs. Let me crave thy indulgence, and call another to keep thee company, whilst I go forward to embrace my friend Erasmus."

"De Claverlok, attend us," he then called to the grizzled knight, who was sitting beside one of the roaring fires and skilfully balancing a pasty above it upon the blade of his halberd.

De Claverlok quickly gulped down the remainder of the contents of the flagon beside him and came toward the two men wearing a good-natured smile, smacking his lips aloud and wiping his beard with the back of his broad hand. "The wine is to thy liking, I perceive," remarked Bishop Kennedy dryly.

"Ah!" exclaimed the grizzled veteran heartily, "there's nothing, my men, that can equal it. Give me drink with the must in 't every blessed day of the year, ... eh!"

"Thou art ever filled with ardor, de Claverlok, when the meat and drink are in question," observed Kennedy with a faint trace of a smile. "But canst forget thy loves long enough to keep companionship with our guest whilst I go forward to meet my friend riding below?"

"Certes will I bear the sir knight company," the grizzled knight instantly agreed. "And I need not desert my loves in doing so, ... eh, ... my boy?"

Whereupon he led Sir Richard to a seat beside a hastily constructed table, made of two broad planks set lengthwise above a pair of empty casks. Over it, fluttering and crackling in the crisp, invigorating breeze that blew across the mountain, was stretched an awning of purple and black, which the young knight took to be a part of the pavilion beneath which he had been so mysteriously transported, and beneath which that morning he had so strangely awakened. The Renegade Duke, with a partially empty tankard at his hand, was already seated before a steaming pasty. From the violent red of his nose and cheeks it could easily be seen that he had been making rather too free with the stum. Besides painting his round face, it had provided him with the fool's courage to unmask his hatred of Sir Richard, at whom he glared across the improvised table with an open defiance. At first he was careful to preserve a sulky silence, but by the time he had emptied a few more flagons he grew noisily vociferant, and would likely have opened the quarrel then and there, had it not been for a now and again lustily delivered nudge of de Claverlok's mailed elbow.

He was sufficiently himself, however, to relapse into silence when the Bishop joined them with his youthful friend, whom he addressed intimately as Gerard, but introduced to the three men as Erasmus.

The scholar's loose robe did not wholly conceal the angularity of his figure. His cheeks, though almost painfully hollow, were touched with the olive bronze of winds and weathers. His nose was unusually prominent, but cut fine at bridge and nostril. His brow, classically moulded, was deep and broad at its base. Altogether, his physiognomy was remarkable for its combination of severe austerity and innate generosity and kindliness.

"It would seem," said he, seating himself beside the table between Bishop Kennedy and Sir Richard, "that the flower of knighthood is gathered here to look upon the flower of Scotland's scenery. I wonder, sir knights, that the restful peace of yonder view does not communicate itself to your martial breasts and render you brothers-in-love of all the world."

"Thy business it is to think, dream, and observe, Gerard," said Lord Kennedy, "and ours to act. The world is yet too imperfect to receive thy teachings, my friend."

"Yea?—?that it is," agreed de Claverlok between bites. "With us it's eat, drink, rest betimes, and then away. I'll wager, though, our gear sits lighter on our shoulders than your robe, ... eh?"

"Right readily do I grant you that, sir knight," returned Erasmus smilingly. "This robe, in truth, is one of the heaviest of my burdens. There would be many a naked back, my lord," he added gravely, turning toward Bishop Kennedy, "an the robe were to be stripped from every bigoted hypocrite. It grieves me to admit my belief that steel girded breasts are uniformly more steadfast to their principles than those enveloped within the robe and cowl."

Thus, during the hour of eating, Erasmus held Lord Kennedy and Sir Richard enthralled with the charm and compelling influence of his colloquy, in the course of which he explained to them that he was then journeying from a monastery at Stein to enter the services of the Archbishop of Cambray, and that later it was a part of his plan to go on to Paris, where he intended pursuing his studies under the continued patronage of his amiable and generous master.

Had the scholar touched at all upon the subject of battles, or of deeds of martial gallantry, it is possible that he might again have enticed de Claverlok to give ear. But as it was, that bluff warrior yielded himself in his most heartywise to the business of devastating the remainder of the pasty before him, and maintaining a constant void within the pewter flagon beside his plate. As for the Renegade Duke, Sir Richard noted that his vapid smile had resolved itself into something approaching a drunken leer, and that beneath his vain twaddle there ran a distinct undercurrent of thinly veiled sarcasm. It grew apparent that he was striving desperately to mask his quarrel with the young knight from the understanding of Lord Kennedy. In this Sir Richard was assisting him to his uttermost. Some time before he had conceived the idea that a quarrel and subsequent duel, which he hoped that his blatant guard might secretly arrange, would provide a likely means of escape.

That their combined efforts were unfruitful of misleading the shrewd Bishop was soon made apparent; for, before leaving from beneath the awning with Erasmus, he took the grizzled knight aside, talking earnestly with him for several minutes.

"I am but going to make Erasmus acquainted with some of our famous fellows," he was explaining to de Claverlok, "and shall soon return. Above all things, Sir Lionel," he warned in a whisper, "keep a close eye on the Knight of the Double Rook. Before we came to yonder table I had disquieting news from the scholar from Bannockburn way. Douglas is arming to oppose us, and planning to invade England for a purpose similar with ours. I fear me that he is familiar with every happening within our camp, and doubts have arisen within me as to the Renegade Duke's integrity to our cause. An I am not mistaken, there is a plan afoot to defeat our purpose of delivering the young noble within our northern stronghold. There's something mightily wrong, de Claverlok. Not a breath have I heard from our captive regarding the King's warrant taken from his pouch by Sir James; and yet is he as eager as an unhooded falcon to escape and fare away upon his journey. How it would boot him to go on, I cannot make out. Remember, sir knight," Bishop Kennedy concluded sternly, "that henceforth thou art held responsible for the youth's safe detention; ... by thy knightly oath do we hold thee."

"Aye, my lord," was the extent of de Claverlok's reply, though his tone and manner indicated his determination to be faithful to the trust imposed upon him. While the three men were seated beneath the awning awaiting Lord Kennedy's return they espied along the road, which wound like a tawny worm beneath the portcullis of the Black Friar's Monastery, a single horseman careering swiftly in the direction of the hill upon which they were stationed. As the rider drew nearer, they could see the glint of the sun's rays upon the burnished trappings of man and horse. Without exchanging a speculative word, their glances followed him till he disappeared at a point where the ochre road was swallowed up in a patch of brilliantly colored gorse. He had likewise been sighted from elsewhere upon the mountain top, for a band of horsemen sallied down from the place of the bivouac and met him precisely at the spot where he again issued into view from behind the bushes. Then, wheeling, they bore him company up the declivitous road. Coincident with their meeting with the men awaiting them above there was a loud shouting of "Douglas! False Douglas, the traitor!" Whereupon Lord Kennedy could be seen striding among them, a trumpeter winded a blast "To horse," and then, amidst a frenzied waving of pennoned lances, the hitherto quiet scene became alive with the scurrying of mailed feet, the noise of creaking saddle girths, the hoarse cries of men, and the loud neighing of horses.

Sir Richard, unable to interpret the meaning of this sudden warlike demonstration, and wondering much at the use of the name of Douglas, regarded it in the light of a most opportune happening. For one thing, it had rid him temporarily of the presence of de Claverlok, who was swinging furiously down the slope bellowing aloud for the Duke's horse, for Sir Richard's, and his own. The young knight at once availed himself of the opportunity of resuming his quarrel with the Renegade Duke; and, as he regarded him scornfully across the board, that individual arose and bowed low before him. In despite of Sir Richard's aversion toward the man, he was obliged to pay tribute within his mind to his singular grace and perfect assurance.

"Why all this mock courtesy," said the young knight quietly, arising also to his feet, "when your blade, my brave Duke, dangles so near to your hand?"

The Renegade Duke stole a glance behind him down the hill, and smiled insolently, coolly, delaying thus his answer for a considerable space.

"The battle-ax, or mace, sir knight," he said then, "would better suit our deadly purposes." He was not above looking to the advantages of his superior weight in offering this suggestion. Moreover, horsemanship played an important part in this kind of warfare, and the Duke was said to be a master horseman. "Yet?—?—" he added the word and then paused reflectively.

"Yet what?" returned Sir Richard. "Out with it ere de Claverlok return to thwart the perfecting of our arrangements."

"Yet?—?" repeated the Duke slowly, again looking behind him down the hill, his lips still raised from off his teeth in a maddening smile, "I dislike me much to remove the single champion of a maiden in distress. Would you not consent to grant to me the legacy of effecting the fair one's release?"

The violence of Sir Richard's anger, scattering every vestige of prudence to the winds, might easily have resulted in defeating his well laid plan to escape. For, no sooner had the Duke finished, than the young knight found himself standing with his emptied tankard in his hand, while his enemy, with a diaphanous lace kerchief, was daintily wiping the dregs from it off his face. The fact that he missed a drop of the wine, which remained hanging from one of the ridiculous points of his upturned mustachios, sent Sir Richard into a paroxysm of laughter.

"An it comes to the question of a legacy, Renegade Duke," he stifled his merriment sufficiently to answer, "I shall do my mightiest to have it from you to me. An I make no mistake, my fine fellow, I shall gain the missive you have pilfered before the day is done."

While Sir Richard was speaking, de Claverlok was seen to be approaching at a swift gallop with their horses.

"Till we meet," returned the Duke quickly, "it shall again be yours. When your bonnet was being burnished this morning it rolled from out the fillet to the pavilion floor." Whereupon, having explained his possession of the note, he tossed the bit of paper before Sir Richard upon the table. Then, as de Claverlok drew rein and called aloud for them to mount?—?"Which shall it be," he whispered, "mace, battle-ax, or sword?" "Battle-axes, at cock-shut time," Sir Richard hastily answered, moving in the direction of his waiting horse.

"Battle-axes at cock-shut time," repeated the Duke. Then, with a sweeping bow, he held the young knight's stirrup for him to mount. "Battle-axes at cock-shut time," he said again. "Thou hast laid a command upon me, ... Liege!" he added, with the last word hissed low in Sir Richard's ear as he vaulted lightly past him into his saddle.

"Liege?" thought the young knight to himself as he rode onward down the road beside de Claverlok. "Why all these ceremonious bows? This calling of me a noble knight? This strange captivity? Why should I?—?I, Richard Rohan, knight, and lowly messenger of the King be thus curtseyed to and addressed? And what mean these subdued mutterings among the men of 'A traitor in camp,' 'Douglas playing false and arming,' 'Tyrrell outmaneuvered'? Fates defend me. I had liefer set my lance against the Dragon of Wantley than make an attempt to unravel the deep mysteries by which I am this moment surrounded."