"My son, to the dukedom itself, Churchman though he was."

I listened in astonishment, and an air of doubt must have shone out from
my innocent eyes, that never knew to hide the thought within.

"Wouldst thou have proof of this that I say, and know how even to-day
this serpent in our island-grass bites at the heel of princely
authority?" the abbot asked.

"Indeed, Father, I would. His words to me so frank, his description of
great men so just--his----" I was about to be fervent indeed in the praise
of my new-found friend. Abbot Michael drew a scroll from his breast, and
held it before my eyes with firm fingers, watching me intently the
while. It was like the scroll I had taken to Blanchelande within the
other. It was the same scroll, or a cunning copy, for there lay two
great hasty blots upon it in one corner, and its signature ran up the
page like a ladder against a wall.

"Read here, and here," said he, "and understand how this cursed man
would incite milder men to shed Duke William's blood!"




CHAPTER IV.

Of the coming of the Sarrasins in force, and of the building of their
château. Of _Brother Hugo's_ confidence in God, and how I rang the
alarm-bell at _St. Pierre Port_.