That was a blithe spring morning when the messenger from the King brought to my father the order to join the army at Lincoln for the great expedition into Scotland. Six armored knights with their squires and a hundred men-at-arms made up the Mountjoy quota; and these my father, liege lord of the domain and loyal subject of the crown, lost no time in bringing together.

Messengers, on horseback and afoot hurried out with his commands; and at the castle we were all in a pretty flurry of making ready.

The armorers were hammering and riveting in the courtyard, making a most merry din; the big ox-carts lumbered in over the drawbridge, bearing meat and grain for my father’s company while on its way to the assembly ground and for us who were to remain at Mountjoy; and our men in their leathern jackets and hoods and with their cross-bows slung on their backs were coming in by ones and twos and in groups of half a score.

Now my lady mother drew near to Father’s side as he watched the labor of the armorers, and I, having no will to lose any word of his, came forward also.

“My lord,” she said, “I would speak with thee where the noise of these hammers will not deafen our ears.”

My father laughed as one laughs at the sorriest jest when he is gay.

“Gadzooks! my lady,” he said with a curtsy which my mother says he learned in Italy, and which, try as I may, I cannot copy—“a daughter of the Montmorencys should find in the din of armorers’ hammers a music far sweeter than that of the lute or viol.”

“’Tis well enough,” said my mother, hurriedly, “and I should sorrow to live where it never was heard. But I have a grave matter upon which to consult thee. Hast thou given thought, my lord, to the castle’s defense during thine absence and that of the best part of our men?”

My father’s brow became furrowed. I opened my mouth to speak, but Mother frowned at me so I held my peace. Methinks she sometimes thinks of me as naught more than a child, forgetting that it was my fifteenth birthday that we marked at Candlemas.

“Some little I have thought of that,” began my father, “and, indeed, Kate, I would not have thee think I would leave thee unsecured. Marvin, the old cross-bowman who attended me through all my campaigns, and whose eye for the homing place of his arrow, is, in spite of his years, like that of Robin Hood himself, shall be thy right-hand servitor, and with him six good serving men, who, like him, are of the older day and unfit for the long marches, but who can handle the cross-bow or, at need, the spear as well as in their best days. These shall be at thy command; and will be ample for these quiet times.”

“Nay, my lord,” she answered, quickly, “these days are none so quiet, with the Old Wolf of Carleton sharpening his fangs for us and ours.”

“The Old Wolf hath his summons to the King’s banner as I have mine. Our smaller quarrels must be laid aside while the war is on; and if Fortune desert me not, I shall return far higher in the favor of the King than e’er before. It is this very business, well and faithfully done, that shall put an end to Carleton’s insolence. The Wolf shall snap his jaws in vain. The fat goose of Mountjoy for which he hungers shall show itself an eagle with beak and talons.”

“I hope it may be as thou sayest, my lord. Still, leave with us Old Alan, the armorer. He too is past the days of hard campaigns; and thou wilt have the young smith, Dickon, for thy work in the camp. Alan shall make for us such a store of cross-bow bolts as will make Old Marvin and his men seem a score in case of need.”

“As thou wilt, Kate. I had need of Old Alan’s head far more than his hands; but ’tis true enough he’s not the man who followed my father to the wars.”

Then he turned to me and smiled as on that greeting day of his return from the Holy Wars.

“But, Kate,” he cried, “here is the Champion of Mountjoy now. We had forgot the chief of our defenders. Mayhap Sir Dickon here, if any seek to do thee harm, will find better marks for his bolts than rooks and hares.”

I knew that he made a jest of me; for he, too, hardly knows that I lack but half a foot of being as tall as himself and that when I am not put about by hurry or the like, my voice is as low a bass. But I answered in goodly earnest:

“That I will, Father. An if any varlet throw but an unmannerly word at my lady mother, I’ll stop his mouth with a good steel bolt. Let but any one—Gray Wolf or other—threaten Mountjoy while thou’rt away, and come within bow-shot of our walls, and he shall rue it well.”

“Ha! The young eagle tries his wings,” laughed my father. “Spoken like a true Mountjoy, Dickon. Thou’lt do. Give thee but a few more years and thou’lt serve the King like all thy line.”

“And like a true Montmorency, my lord,” put in my mother. “Forget not that.”

“’Pon my soul, ’tis true,” he laughed, “Dickon hath as good blood on the distaff side as any his father can boast.—But to the matter of the castle’s defense in need. Will-o’-the-Wallfield shall stay behind also to see that stores of grain and beef are ample. He’s ever a good hand with the farmers and as sound as an oak staff.” And with a kiss for my mother and a pinch o’ the ear for me, he hurried out again to the armorers.

His spirits in good sooth were high that morning, as well might they be. It was full two years since his return from the Holy Land. I had seen him in London, riding in his shining mail with those who had helped redeem the Blessed Sepulcher, and he the bravest, finest figure of them all. Since that time he had stayed here at the castle with naught to do save to judge the suits of the countryfolk and now and again chase down and hang some forest-lurking robber. His comrades in arms and those that knew his temper and his deeds were at the Court, a hundred miles away; and many a dull day must have seemed a week in passing. Here in the West we have no tourneys and of travelers from the farther world not many. Only lately some little stir of life did we have. The Gray Wolf of Carleton from his castle at Teramore, three leagues away, had sent to us an insolent demand for tribute, claiming forsooth that the Lords of Mountjoy were but a younger line of the House of Carleton and that we held our fiefs on sufferance and at the will of them, our superiors.

Always shall I remember the language of my father’s answer. The clerkly knave who brought Lord Carleton’s message shrunk and shriveled before it like a leaf too near the fire. Just so will I meet all such threats and insolence when I have but a few more years.

“Suzerain of Mountjoy, forsooth! Let the Gray Wolf look well to Teramore, lest we of Mountjoy smoke him from his lair. Mountjoy banners will dip before those of Carleton when England pays tribute to the Saracen, and Beelzebub, thy master’s friend, sits on the throne.”

The knave slunk back to Teramore; and for some weeks the Gray Wolf’s pack had yapped and yowled. Two of Lord Carleton’s bailiffs had their heads well broken by Mountjoy tenants of whom they demanded rental; and an armed party was sent out to avenge them. These men-at-arms were even more roughly used by some of our Mountjoy cross-bowmen who spied the Carleton banner from afar as it entered the village.

Real fighting would surely have come of it, and we of Mountjoy outnumbered three to one, had not the King sent messengers to Teramore and Mountjoy also, commanding all of us to cease from any violence in the quarrel till his men could report to him the rights and wrongs of it.

Now came the King’s call to his vassals, great and small, to serve in the Scottish war; and my father was gay with the thought of service under his sovereign’s banner,—service that might place the name and fame of Mountjoy high in his master’s favor, and show what manner of man and subject it was whom the Gray Wolf would rob of his lands.

A week from that morning my mother had in hand a letter brought by a courier from the King’s army and bearing my father’s greetings. They were well on their way to the north, and believed the Scots would soon have reason to repent them of their folly. Father had been given a post in the advance guard, and was in high feather over rejoining some of his comrades of earlier years.

On the same day, and from another source, we had news that the Gray Wolf was delayed at Teramore by an illness,—the same that had plagued him at times since his campaigns in the Holy Land, but that he had sent word to the King that he would overtake the banners ere they reached the Scottish border.

At seven of the next morning, I stood with Old Marvin by the drawbridge wheel. He had seen to its lowering, and a wain-load of wheat from the grange at the Wallfield was coming slowly into the courtyard. Suddenly I espied a body of horsemen approaching at a trot half a mile away, at a bend on the wooded road from Mannerley. With pointing finger, I guided the eyes of Marvin; and for half a minute we both stood watching the riders without a word. They were soon lost behind the trees, but our old archer, with his hand on the wheel, now shifted his looks to the road where it came out of the forest, a scant bowshot below us.

Now we could hear the hoofbeats and once and again the ring of steel. This could be no friendly call from our neighboring knights and squires so early in the day. Besides, the loyal men of the whole region were with the King’s banner. Had the horsemen come by the Teramore road, our thoughts would have flown at once to the Old Wolf and his designs, and the drawbridge had gone up in a twinkling; but these came from Mannerley; and I knew well that the good lady of Mannerley had days since sent her small quota of knights and men-at-arms to Lincoln. We had not long to wonder, for now the column came from the wood at a swinging trot, and with a tall, gray-bearded knight at its head came forward swiftly toward the open gate.

Marvin stayed his hand no longer. I seized the crank with him; and we swiftly turned it. We drew the bridge to a slant, half way to the upright and barely in time to halt those riders on the yonder side of the moat.

“I know thee, my Lord Carleton,” shouted Marvin, “what would’st thou at Mountjoy? Dost think we keep no watch and ward?”

The Old Wolf (for verily he was the leader of the horsemen) shouted back to us in tones that made my ear drums ache:

“Lower the bridge, varlet. Know’st thou not I am liege lord of Mountjoy, and will hang thee higher than Haman if thou stay’st me by so much as an instant. Lower the bridge, if thou would’st save thy carcass from the crows!”

Before Marvin could say aught in reply he was thrust aside, and my mother, the Lady of Mountjoy, stood by the sally port. In a moment I stood close behind her with cross-bow drawn and bolt in groove.

“My Lord Carleton,” she said, and her voice was wonderfully sweet after the rasping tones that had been filling our ears, “what dost thou here with three score mounted men when the King hath summoned all loyal vassals to his banner?”

So evil a face as he made at this greeting I hope never to see again.

“Ah! ’tis thou, then, Kate of Montmorency. I have somewhat pressing business of my own to forward ere I send final answer to the King. Now deliver to me the keys of this my castle of Mountjoy. Or mayhap thou wilt send yonder leather-coated varlet to act as thy champion ’gainst one of my kitchen knaves. Now lower thy bridge, and all shall be well. I will send thee and the boy there with a convoy of trusty knights to the Convent of St. Anne. If thou hast the folly to attempt to stay me, I will take the place by storm; thy varlets shall hang, every one; and thine own fate thou canst guess. Come now! which, shall it be? I am not accustomed to stay long for answers.”

“Traitor and Hound of Bedlam!” cried my mother in such a voice as I knew not she possessed, “thine own head with the gray locks thou dishonorest shall hang from my battlements ere thou gainest aught by this attack on what thou thinkest to be a defenseless woman. While my lord fights for his country under the banner of the King, thou sendest back lying messengers, and arm thy crew for robbing him of his lands. Now back, with all thy bloody-handed band, or my cross-bowmen shall see if they cannot find with their bolts the joints of your harness. I give no more time to parley. Back with you!”

Already my cross-bow was leveled at the gray beard of the leader on the other side of the moat. I would make good my boast made to my father but a week since. I was trembling and my hair stood up like that of a dog that meets his bitter enemy. Muttering a little prayer for the bolt, and closing my eyes with a sudden, foolish dread, I pulled the trigger. But my mother, just then seeing my design, struck up the weapon with one swift blow, so that the bolt sped harmlessly over the heads of the horsemen.

“Hold thy arrows, boy,” she commanded, “we cannot shoot men down at parley, be they never so villainous. And we shall have fighting enough ere long.”

Lord Carleton made a move of defiance; but he wheeled his steed and led his men down the road by which they came. In the shadow of the woods they halted; and the Gray Wolf called about him three or four knights to whom he gave hurried orders. Very soon his troop broke into three parties. One rode to the right and another to the left, while the third, under the old lord’s command, remained opposite the main gate and drawbridge. Then our watchers on the battlements saw the other parties posted at points of vantage around the castle and a young squire riding at full gallop along the road to Teramore. The siege of Castle Mountjoy had begun.

We passed some weary hours while the Carleton knights gave no sign of meaning to attack. The approaches to the drawbridge are steep and rocky, and the moat is commanded by the cross-bowmen from the slits in the towers and from the battlements above. I well knew that Carleton was an old and skillful soldier, even though a cruel and bloodthirsty one; and it was easy to be seen that he had no mind to lose any of his armored knights in vain attempts to reach us. Now and again a cross-bow bolt sped from our battlements toward the besiegers; and some of these rang on their helmets or breastplates; but the hounds had good Toledo armor, and no bolt found its way to joint or visor. I found none to stay me now; and stood by a firing slit, sending arrow after arrow at our enemies.

Twice old Marvin had dinted with well-aimed bolts the hauberk on which rested the long gray beard of the leader of the pack. A younger knight, whom I took to be Ronald of Egleston, seemed to beg him to take to the shelter of the trees; but the Old Wolf just shook his head with impatience, and rode on from one to another of the sentry posts.

At noon we could see in the edge of the wood, beneath the oak branches not yet clothed with leaves, leathern wallets opened and bread and meat passed around, this being followed by horns of ale and skins of wine from the load of a pack-mule tethered near by.

Then my mother, aided by old Dame Franklin, her nurse as a child and ever her faithful servitor, and by me as the Heir of Mountjoy and the representative of my father here, carried to the sentinels on the ramparts and at the arrow slits bounteous refreshments of bread and cheese and ale, encouraging them the while by friendly, confident words and by her dauntless demeanor in readiness for the attack which we all well knew was to come.

“Marvin,” she said, as we came near my old friend and worthy teacher of the arts of war, “shall we give them as good or better than they can send?”

“Aye, that we will, Lady,” quoth Marvin with an obeisance, losing the while no glance of what might be happening in the edge of the wood opposite, “if the wind will but ease a thought, and the Gray Wolf take not to some shelter, I will land an arrow yet at the roots of that beard which flaunts there in the breeze like a banner for those robber hounds.”

“God speed thy bolt, good Marvin. An thou dost that, ’twill be as loyal a service as e’er them did’st the House of Mountjoy. His band would not linger long to annoy us, I think. And that cottage and half dozen acres by the mill shall be thine in fee simple.”

“Lady Mountjoy,” he said, with another bow, “I have served my Lord of Mountjoy and his father before him for fifty years. Your bounty is ever welcome, but, with it or without, I serve while I live. But hold! there’s the Gray Wolf again, looking our way with hungry eyes,—”

He took long and careful aim, while I who had often seen him bring down a running hare at a greater distance, watched him with halted breath. But Fortune smiled not on him. A gust of wind came just as he drew trigger, and turned his bolt enough in the hundred and fifty yards of its flight to make it pass harmlessly to one side of our enemy. Old Marvin made a bitter groan at this bad hap, and stood looking at the knight with grinding teeth.

“Better luck and a quieter air next time, good Marvin,” quoth mother, “thou’lt wing him yet, be sure.” And she passed to another embrasure to greet old Alan, the armorer, who was busy with carrying fresh supplies of bolts to the archers.

At two o’ the clock a cry came down from our lookouts that reËnforcements were coming for our enemies. My mother and I hurried to the battlements and from there descried a motley array of a hundred or more men-at-arms, archers and peasants with axes and spades, tramping along the road from Teramore.

For a moment we were frightened at what we saw. Here was proof indeed that the Old Wolf meant no hurried foray but an attack in such force as might be expected to gain the castle and the lands of Mountjoy.

Most of its proper defenders were far away, marching with other loyal men under the banner of the King; and now it was clear that Carleton had let no man go forward from all his lands, reserving all for this treacherous blow. Armored knights could not swim the moat or climb up its steep sides; but the Carleton force was now twenty times greater than ours, and the Gray Wolf was well skilled in all the arts of attack.

We had not long to wait in suspense. The men-at-arms and the peasants turned into the wood before coming within range of our archers. Soon after we heard the sound of many axes. Before a half hour had passed there came from the forest a body which seemed like a part of the wood itself. A hundred men ran out, clad in leathern jackets or the peasants’ homespun, and carrying no weapons save axes or poniards stuck in their belts, each bearing before him a great, withe-bound armful of branches. Following these came a score with planks and beams from a little lodge in the wood which they had torn down; then eight huge fellows, running with a tree, trimmed of its branches and carried butt foremost as a battering ram. This was the thing that made me quake for the safety of the castle, for it was clear to all of us that if those robber beasts could fill the moat with their fascines and lumber, they could swarm across, force down the drawbridge and with that accursed log break down the inner gate. Once inside the courtyard, they would hold all in the castle at their mercy.

Surrounding the churls who acted as ram-bearers, and running as best they might in their heavy armor, was a group of knights and squires, led by the savage old graybeard of Carleton. Last of all came a dozen cross-bowmen with bows drawn and bolts in groove.

A half dozen of our bolts hummed through the air at their on-coming line. I was at one of the arrow slits, glad indeed of a fair chance at the Carleton curs, and using as best I might the good steel bow which my father had brought back from the Crusade. Some of our first volley of bolts found their marks, but most flew over their heads or buried themselves in the bundles of branches which served them well as shields. With might and main we loaded and fired again, this time with more effect. One of my bolts felled the leader of the ram-bearers and threw his fellows into confusion. But now the line was at the moat, the fascines were hurled into it, the planks and beams followed helter skelter, and a few of the boldest of their men-at-arms dashed out on the footing thus made.

Now indeed our bolts began doing their work. The fascines gone, the leathern jackets were but the sorriest protection, and at twenty to forty paces hardly a bolt failed to bring down its man. We were firing as fast as we could lay the bolts in groove. All their burdens were in the ditch, but it was not filled enough to allow a crossing. Some of those who had ventured on the planks and branches became foot-caught, slipped through to the water below and perished miserably like thieving rats caught and drowned in a trap of meal strewn on the water of a tub.

The Carleton cross-bowmen could do little against our stone walls pierced with narrow firing slits. Some of their arrows came through, but none of us were injured. Two huge stones, hurled by Alan, the armorer, from the battlements above, came down on the heads of the luckless churls in the moat and helped to scatter the scanty footing. Thrice more had old Marvin dinted with his bolts the armor of the Gray Wolf, who was running up and down behind his men, shouting threats and orders; but still the arrows failed in drawing blood. Two other knights were not so fortunate, for bolts struck them full in the faces, and they were borne from the field by their comrades.

In time, mid curses and threats, old Carleton shouted an order for retreat. It was none too soon, for already half the homespun varlets and men-at-arms, seeing no hope of reaching us, and expecting any moment the fate which was falling on their comrades, were on their way to the shelter of the woods. The Carleton crew recrossed the open ground more quickly than it had come. Twenty or more of their number remained behind, in the ditch or on its bank, and the battering ram lay where its bearers had dropped it when their comrades broke and ran.

Hardly had the last of them disappeared under the oaks when Marvin and Alan appeared in the moat, armed with long-handled pikes. Quickly hauling together some of the planks and beams to make a raft, they began pulling and pushing apart the rest of the matter which had been meant to form a crossing. There had not been enough of the brush and lumber for the Carleton purpose but could they place as much more in the same spot, it might make them a footway. We who guarded them from above and stood ready to give warning of any new attack were able to tell them over and again that none of our enemies were showing their heads. So holpen, the old soldiers made a thorough piece of work, and in half an hour had hauled out all the planks and beams and so scattered the brush bundles that they would be of little use to the attackers should they find stomachs for another assault.

That night was a weary one for all of us. The camp fires of the Carleton robbers made a kind of circle about our place and gave us warning of how close they made the siege. My mother gave orders that half her men should lie down to sleep, though with their arms beside them, while she and Marvin often made the rounds to be sure of the watchfulness of the others. She would have had me go to my bed like a very child; but I begged it as a boon to share the watch, to which prayer she most unwillingly gave ear. That night I could not have slept in the downiest of couches, e’en with the softest music of well-played lutes. There was men’s work afoot; and ours were all too few. At midnight the sleepers were awakened and the watch changed; but always we three remained on guard.

The night was quiet, even so; and so was the whole of the day that followed. Beyond bowshot on the open ground, we could see the groups of our enemies and watch the sentries pacing their beats. Nearer at hand on the wooded side, we could hear from time to time the calls of men and the strokes of axes.

In the afternoon my mother found a few hours for sleep, leaving Marvin, who seemed to have no need for rest, in charge. Our old soldier and worthy lieutenant had told her that the siege might last for weeks, and that it would be folly for her to wear out her strength in its very beginning. To this good advice I made bold to add my urging. Dame Franklin had followed her mistress everywhere, bringing her food and drink when of herself she would have forgotten, and trying always to place herself between Lady Mountjoy and her enemies.

The first night had been starlit, but that which now came on was cloudy and so dark that one could scarce discern an enemy at a dozen paces, and not then unless his figure were seen against the sky. None of our men were allowed to sleep, for it was felt that the Carletons might come at us again at any moment and with much better chances for success than before. No one in the castle forgot that our enemies outnumbered us by almost a score to one or had any doubts as to what would come to us if by force or by treachery, the Gray Wolf and his pack made their way into our courtyard.

Soon after midnight we heard a loud tramp and roar of footsteps in the direction of the wood. Arrows we sent hap-hazard toward the attack, but in the darkness these did little more than tell our enemies that the Mountjoy men were at their posts. In a moment the other side of the moat was thronged with half-seen figures. Cries of command rang out and the waters of the ditch splashed high with the strokes of fascines, logs and sacks of earth. Now again our archers found victims, but in the murk and mid the wild cries and running to and fro these were but few. Most of our bolts struck harmlessly into the ground or the water or rang against the stones of the moat wall.

The frontmost of the churls who bore the brush and sacks, when they had cast their loads into the ditch, turned and ran back to the edge of the wood whence they presently returned with fresh supplies. Had it not been for the good labors of old Marvin and Alan in moving the matter cast down in the first attack a way would soon have been laid to the foot of the drawbridge. As it was, our ditch was fast filling. There seemed to be thousands of the burden bearers, running like Imps of Darkness with planks and great bundles; and in the pitchy dark of that black night the fire of our garrison had no effect.

I was firing as fast as might be from one of the arrow-slits; but, like the others, could not tell whether any of my bolts were finding victims. Each moment the numbers of our enemies increased. The pile of planks and brush now reached nearly to the inner wall of the moat. My mother ran back and forth behind the archers, carrying new supplies of missiles, and shouting heartening words. Old Marvin was hurling bolts as fast as he could load, and roundly cursing the hounds of Carleton and the blackness of the night that sheltered them. A moment more and I could hear axes ringing against iron. The bloody crew were hacking at the fastenings of the chains of the drawbridge.

Suddenly a thought crossed my mind like a shooting star; and I sprang away from my firing port.

“Mother,” I cried, “we must have light to shoot by or we’re undone. Quick! the torches!”

Throwing down my cross-bow, I ran into the great hall and caught up a torch from the mantel. Thrusting it deeply into the fireplace embers, I quickly kindled it; then sped up the stairs toward the battlements.

Not for nothing is my lady mother a Montmorency of the old fighting line. In a trice she had understood my plan and was following me with a lighted torch. Close behind her came old Dame Franklin, bearing another. The three of us ran with all our might up the crooked stair and the ladders, and came out on the battlements, under the black sky.

As if the castle were all aflame, the moat and the farther bank were lighted by the glare. In an instant the cross-bowmen found their targets among the fascine bearers and the men-at-arms who were already swarming across. At once we heard their cries of rage and pain, and could see corpses rolling down the bank into the muddy waters. Alan heaved great stones from his supply on the battlements on to the heads of the men-at-arms in the ditch who but now had been raising a shout of victory. Old Marvin took most careful aim at a gray beard which caught the flare of light, and sent forth a mighty yell of joy as the knight spun around on his heel and fell to the ground.

Oh, the crowding and shouting and trampling under foot in the ranks of our enemies! The threats and the fear and the curses! Our arrows kept pouring from the firing slits. A younger knight caught his chief by the shoulders while another seized his legs, and they bore him quickly away. There was no need for any order to retreat. The whole body was in headlong flight in the winking of an eye, pursued by the whizzing bolts and the jeering yells of our fellows in the towers. On the battlements above stood my lady mother, old Dame Franklin and I, holding aloft our flaming torches.

Suddenly the old nurse screamed that I was hurt. And indeed, I now felt a most sharp pain through my shoulder where, it seems, had struck a bolt discharged by some Carleton archer. My doublet was covered with blood; and I felt a most unmanly giddiness. It was over in a flash; but my mother, pale as a ghost under the torchlight, had seized me by one arm while Dame Franklin grasped the other, fearing forsooth lest I fall from the battlements to the moat below. Between them, I made my way down to the hall where they led me to a couch, they all the while mumbling and weeping and forgetting our glorious victory which had all my thoughts.

Soon old Marvin had drawn the arrow and dressed the hurt with the simples he had at hand. ’Twas my first wound, and, truth to tell, as Marvin plucked the bolt away my stomach was none too well at ease, and the room and all its folk swung slowly round and round. Yet when I heard him declare to my lady mother that the young master was now a man in his own right and a worthy son of the Mountjoys, I closed my eyes to the dizzying hall with its dancing armor suits and its nodding pictures of my long dead forbears, and soon slumbered, well content.

For two hours and more I slept as one drugged. When my eyes opened, the hall had ceased its swinging, and my mother sat by my couch and did hold my hand in both of hers as she was wont to do long, long ago when I was but a child. Dame Franklin, in a chair near by did slumber deeply and with most comical groans and snores. Just then returned old Marvin, fresh from new labors in the moat. He and Alan had again cleared away all the contrivings of our enemies; and he was in high feather at our victory.

“Lady Mountjoy,” he said, making due obeisance, “we have beaten the wolf-pack full soundly. The Old Wolf himself is sore stricken, if not dead; and the others will gladly crawl to their holes. Sir Dickon will have a merry tale and true to tell my lord when he comes from the Scottish war.”

“Say’st thou so, good Marvin?” quoth my mother in reply. “Dost think we have smitten them so they will give over all their evil design?”

“My word upon it, Lady. We have beaten off all their strokes, killed a score and more of their men, and gi’en to the Old Wolf himself some measure of his just deserts. The morning will show their camp fires cold and the woods and fields of Mountjoy deserted by the whole wolf-pack. Ere three days have passed thou shalt walk abroad with thy women and without fear of any Carleton, lord or churl.”

These goodly words were to me better than physic; and the smile which my lady mother gave to me was a fair guerdon for any service. Soon I slept again and dreamed of riding my white mare on the banks of Tarleton Water on a day most fair to see. But I wakened to a gray and frosty dawn and to things far other than my dreams. My mother had just returned from the ramparts. The besiegers were still at their posts, and their camp fires burned brightly. She had made out messengers speeding along the road to Teramore, but of a breaking of the siege could see no signs around the camps of our enemies.

When she brought this news to me, I spurned the quilted robes and the silken coverlet which she had laid over me, sat up on the couch and asked for boots and cross-bow. She was deeply frightened at this, fearing my giddiness had returned and that I knew not what I said. But Marvin, coming into the hall just then, did say that my wound was too slight a thing to keep a fighting man in his bed; and thus aided I had my way, and soon was on the ramparts again.