of his enterprise.

Now Henry our royal king was very wroth at the earl's evasion,
and swore by Saint Thomas-a-Becket (whom he had himself translated
into a saint by having him knocked on the head), that he would
give the castle and lands of Locksley to the man who should bring
in the earl. Hereupon ensued a process of thought in the mind
of the knight. The eyes of the fair huntress of Arlingford had
left a wound in his heart which only she who gave could heal.
He had seen that the baron was no longer very partial
to the outlawed earl, but that he still retained his old
affection for the lands and castle of Locksley. Now the lands
and castle were very fair things in themselves, and would be
pretty appurtenances to an adventurous knight; but they would
be doubly valuable as certain passports to the father's favour,
which was one step towards that of the daughter, or at least
towards obtaining possession of her either quietly or perforce;
for the knight was not so nice in his love as to consider
the lady's free grace a sine qua non: and to think of being,
by any means whatever, the lord of Locksley and Arlingford,
and the husband of the bewitching Matilda, was to cut in the shades
of futurity a vista very tempting to a soldier of fortune.
He set out in high spirits with a chosen band of followers,
and beat up all the country far and wide around both the Ouse
and the Trent; but fortune did not seem disposed to second
his diligence, for no vestige whatever could he trace of the earl.
His followers, who were only paid with the wages of hope,
began to murmur and fall off; for, as those unenlightened
days were ignorant of the happy invention of paper machinery,
by which one promise to pay is satisfactorily paid with another