"Gone," said Saint Simon to himself; and he hurried back to the lane, where Denis was lying very still with his eyes closed, and the three horses ready to raise their heads from where they were calmly cropping the thick herbage and ready to salute him with a friendly whinny before resuming their meal.

"Well, Denis, boy," he cried, "how is it now?"

"Oh, a bit sick and faint, but I'm better. Have you found that brute?"

"No; he has gone right away. But we don't want him, unless he comes back to take revenge on you, and then I should like to see you use your sword again."

"Oh!" groaned Denis. "With an arm like this! I feel as if I should not lift it again for months."

"Bah! Nonsense, man--boy, I mean," said Saint Simon, with a laugh.

"But I say, you must have given it to him somewhere. He was bleeding like a pig. I followed his track to where he must have sat down on the gra.s.s to bind up his wound. And there he stopped it, to rise and walk off, making good strides for a dead man. You gave him his pay for horse-stealing, and I'll be bound to say he feels more sore than you, my hero. Now then, how do you feel about getting up?"

"I feel sick, and as if I want to lie."

"But the--ahem!--Comte? He must be awake by now."

"Ah! I forgot him. Here, give me your hand--Thanks--Ah!--It hurts horribly--my throat's better--but my arm feels as though it had been screwed out of the joint. Would you mind sheathing my sword? I can't."

"I ought to have done it before," said Saint Simon; "but I say, lad, let go. Why, your fingers are grasping it with quite a grip."

"Are they?" said the boy faintly. "I don't feel as if I had any.

Everything is hot and numb."

"Yes, you have had a nasty wrench. But that will soon be right. We soldiers don't mind unless we are killed. That's better. Here, let's wipe the blade," and he picked a bunch of gra.s.s. "I am not going to soil my kerchief with the ruffian's blood. That's better," he continued, as he returned the long thin blade to its sheath. "I'll give it a polish for you when we get back to the inn. Now do you think you could mount?"

"No, not yet," said the boy. "Give me a little time."

"Hours, lad; and here, let me arrange your scarf. Stand still. That's the way. Over your right shoulder--tied in a knot--now opened out widely here so that your arm can rest in it, like that. Those are soldiers' knots for a wounded limb.--That feel easier?"

"Not much," said Denis. "Yes, that's better. It seems to take the weight, and I'm beginning to feel that I've got one now."

"Oh, yes, it will soon come round," cried Saint Simon joyfully. "Now, boys, it's time you left off sullying your bits with gra.s.s," he continued, to the horses, as he unbuckled their reins, so that in leading one he led all three; and offering his right arm to Denis, who gladly took it and leant upon it heavily, he led the way back along the lane to where they had parted, and from thence into the great stable-yard and through the long stable to where the two hostlers were still sleeping heavily, not in the slightest degree roused by the trampling of the chargers upon the stone-paved floor.

"Now then," said Saint Simon, "shall we tie up the horses here again?"

"No," cried Denis sharply. "Look--through the door yonder. There's the Comte!"

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A WELL-MEANT WARNING.

Saint Simon glanced in the direction indicated, to see across the yard the King standing at the open doorway, talking, and evidently questioning their hostess, who was pointing towards the stable where the young men were.

"Now for a storm, Denis, boy, with plenty of royal thunder, and flashes of lightning from his kingly eyes. Bah! How hard it is to forget his rank! How are you now?"

"Oh, better. The sight of--the Comte seems to string me up."

"Come on, then, to make our excuses for the breach of duty, and take our three witnesses to back our words."

The young men led the chargers out through the low doorway into the yard and began crossing to where the King was drawing himself up with a stern look upon his countenance, his right hand upon his hip, his left upon his sword-hilt, which he kept on pressing down and elevating and lowering the long thin blade behind him, the afternoon sun throwing it out in a long dark streak from his shadow, giving him the effect of some monster wagging its wiry tail.

The hostess was still there, drawing back a little into the shadow of the comparatively dark doorway, a mingling of curiosity and sympathy detaining her to hear how her offending guests would fare.

She had not long to wait, for as the young men came up with the horses'

hoofs clattering upon the paved way, "Now, gentlemen," was growled forth, "why am I left like this? And by whose orders have you brought forth those steeds?"

"What!" thundered the King fiercely, after hearing a brief narration of his followers' adventure; and turning to their hostess, who heard every word and stood loaning forward with agitated face and clasped hands, "And so, madam, you call this the safety of your inn! This, then, is the meaning of that warning paper which you have disavowed. Gentlemen, we seem to have settled in a nest of thieves. Have your valises placed at your saddles. I thank you for the way in which you have saved us from disaster at the beginning of our journey. We will ride on at once."

"Oh," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the hostess, "that it should come to this!" And ceasing to wring her hands she ran out past them and crossed the yard to the open stable-door, disappeared for just long enough to verify the young men's words by a sight of the sleeping grooms, and then came running back to where her guests were making preparations to continue their journey.

"Oh, my lord," she cried, "it is a disgrace and shame to my house that all this should have taken place. I pray your forgiveness."

"Indeed, madam!" said the King haughtily. "Tell my gentlemen there what there is to pay, and spare your words."

"But, my lord--"

"Silence, madam! I have spoken. Gentlemen--"

"But, my lord," she interrupted, "I will have trusty strong men to watch the stables and the house all night. This was the work of a stranger-- some horse-thief from afar. It cannot occur again."

The King waved his hand, and turned to his followers.

"Gentlemen, you will not leave those horses a moment. Finish the preparations. Pay this woman, Saint Simon, and come and tell me when all is ready for the start."

Then turning his back upon the hostess, he strode into the house, fuming with rage and glowering fiercely at the group of servants whom he pa.s.sed.

"Oh, woe is me!" sobbed the landlady, wringing her hands. "That this great misfortune should happen to such a n.o.ble lord as this! And this gallant boy too, hurt as he is! No, no, sir," she cried pettishly to Saint Simon, who approached her, purse in hand; "don't talk to me about money. I am thinking of the honour of my house. There, there," she cried, lowering her tone; and she caught Denis by the doublet and signed to his friend to come closer. "Your lord is angry," she said, "and he has just cause; but you two must speak to him and try to calm his wrath.

I have made all preparations for his staying here to-night, and believe me, everything is safe. I will have trusty friends in, and not a soul here but you shall close an eye. You must sleep here to-night."

"Must, madam?" said Denis, forgetting his own sufferings in something like amus.e.m.e.nt at his hostess's pertinacity. "There is no must with our lord."

"Don't say that, my child," cried the woman anxiously. "He must give way to-night. I can see with a mother's eye that you are not fit to mount your horse. You are hurt, and need rest. Go to him and persuade him that he must stay."

"Madam, it is impossible," said Denis; "and leave me, please. You heard our lord's commands. We have our preparations to make."

As he spoke Denis glanced at Saint Simon, who had waved back a man who came to help, and was examining their horses' girths himself. Then, turning his eyes towards the doorway, he caught sight of the King returning, unnoticed by the landlady, who clutched at Denis's doublet again, and continued in a low, excited voice:

"You do not know, my child. Before long it will be dark."

"There will be a moon nearly at the full, madam," said Denis.

"Oh yes, yes, sir; if it is not clouded over; but the road from here towards London is through the forest and overhung with trees and--and,"

she added, in a whisper, "it is not safe."

"We have our swords, madam," said the youth; but he winced as he spoke, for his right arm seemed to give him a sudden warning twinge of his inability to use his weapon. "What do you mean about the road not being safe?"