"He who speaks thus is cloister-bred," said Martin, and as Hilarius
made sign of assent, "'tis writ on thy face as well. Thy Prior
gave thee letters to the Abbat of St Peter's, I doubt not; thy face
is set for Westminster."

"Ay, for Westminster, but my letters are for that good knight, Sir
John Maltravers. I should have made an end of my journeying ere
now but that two days ago I met strange company. They took my
purse and hat and shoes, and kept me with them all night until the
late dawn. Then they gave me my goods again, and bade me God-
speed.'

"But kept thy purse?" Martin laughed.

"Nay, it is here, and naught is missing. It was all passing
strange, and I feared them, for they looked evil men; yet they did
me no wrong, and set me on my way gently enough, giving me
provision, which I lacked."

"Pick-purses and cut-throats afraid of God's judgments for once,"
muttered Martin; then aloud, "Well, young sir, we shall do well if
we win Westminster before night-fall; shall we journey together
since our way is the same?"

Hilarius assented gladly; and as they went, Martin told him of
Court and King, and the wondrous doings when the Princess Isabel
was wed. He listened open-eyed to tales of joust and revel and
sport; and heard eagerly all the minstrel could tell of Sir John
Maltravers himself, a man of great and good reputation, and no mean
musician; "and," added Martin, "three fair daughters he hath, the