good their escape.

"Our losses were trifling; the losses of the French were tremendous. We had only two ships destroyed, while out of all the mighty French fleet but a few stragglers escaped. Their loss in men, too, they say, was no less than thirty thousand slain. 'Twill be years and years, lad, I warrant thee, before the French will again dare to oppose us on the ocean. We are now masters of the sea, and our ships can come and go as they please. Hurrah for our martial King Edward!"

"Hurrah, indeed!" cried Edgar, catching something of his enthusiasm. "But how came our men to gain so great a victory over the French? Did they not fight well?"

"Aye, they fought well enough, but they were outgeneralled. They had two leaders while we had one. And more--though I am a man-at-arms, and think most of my sort, yet can I give a meed of praise where 'tis due--'twas our archers did much to win the day. Aye, our bowmen gave the French a rude awakening--one, too, that will be repeated as roughly yet many a day. Our men shot so hard and fast that the air was streaked with shafts, and Frenchmen and Genoese fell dead on every hand. Even the knights were hard put to it to face so pitiless a hail. I mind me old Thomelin of Pontefract, one of the most famous of our marksmen, said to me as we passed a ship in the first line, where the battle still raged: 'See yon knight in golden armour, Matthew?'

"'Aye,' said I.

"'Watch him well.'

"He drew his bow to the feather and held it motionless for a moment or two. The knight was opposing a party of English who were pouring along the deck of his ship. He swung his axe back and up, and Thomelin's bow twanged. The knight's nearest armpit sprouted feathers, his axe fell with a clang, and he rattled down after it. 'Twas thus that our archers taught even knights in full armour to fear them."

"But are not crossbowmen equally to be feared?" cried Edgar. "I have heard that their heavy bolts can crash through the armour itself."

"Mayhap; but when they have English bowmen to fight against they have little chance to show their powers. Ere ever they can loose a bolt a cloth-yard shaft hath laid them low. Our archers laugh at crossbowmen--and with good reason."

"What befell after the battle, Matthew?"

"We landed, and Edward led us to the city of Tournay. He drew his allies to his standard, and it was with a hundred thousand men that he commenced the siege. All goeth well so far, but Sir John sent me after thee before we had long encamped before its walls. And here I am, Master Edgar."

"Aye, good Matthew," replied Edgar, who appeared to be slightly ill at ease, and had turned in his saddle two or three times during the latter part of the soldier's narrative. "Now, wilt thou rein in thy steed for a moment so that we may listen? Several times I have fancied I heard the sound of horses' hoofs dully in the distance."

"What of that, lad? Red of Ordish and his band had nae horses."

"None that we could see. But in some of the tales I have heard both Red and his band were mounted. Hearken now!"

Dim and distant, but unmistakable, sounded the thud of horses' hoofs.

"Quick, Matthew, we must leave the road and hide. Our horse, carrying a double burden, must soon be overtaken. Dismount and lead thy steed in amongst those rocks and bushes and, if thou canst, compel it to lie down."

Without demur Matthew obeyed his young charge's orders, possibly because he could think of no better line of action. In a minute or two horse and riders were well hidden behind a tangle of rocks and bushes a dozen yards from the edge of the roadway. The clatter of horses' hoofs was now very close, and in a few moments a body of wild-looking horsemen burst into view round a turn of the road.

"'Tis Red," muttered the lad at his first glimpse of the foremost man, as he shrank back yet more closely under cover.

The horsemen clattered noisily by and vanished as quickly as they had come. For the time, at any rate, the fugitives were safe.

"What now, lad?" grumbled Matthew, as he began to realize their sorry plight. "We cannot take to the road again, I trow."

"Nay; we must, I fear, clamber on as best we can across these rocks. See yon hill? The country there is clearer, so mayhap if we struggle on a little we shall find it open out before us."

For an hour the soldier and his companion scrambled along among the rocks, leading the horse between them. Then the way began to get easier until, at the end of some hours, they found themselves in fairly open country. The travelling had been very exhausting, and, well pleased to be quit of it, they mounted again and cantered gaily off until they reached cultivated land, and could see in the distance the lights of a dwelling. On a closer inspection this proved to be a large and straggling farmhouse.

"Darkness falls," quoth Matthew; "I think we will rest the night here if the good man is not unwilling."

Edgar gladly consented, and in a minute or two they were knocking at the farmhouse door. After a considerable delay and some parleying the door was opened, and they were conducted into the farmer's kitchen. Here they were served with plenty of rough but wholesome food, and were soon doing full justice to the viands. Under the influence of the good cheer, and more especially of the good man's home-brewed ale, Matthew waxed communicative, and related to the farmer with great gusto the incidents of their encounter with and escape from the redoubtable Red of Ordish.

The recital seemed to disturb the farmer greatly. He grew pale and nervous, and presently left the room, muttering that if robbers were about it would be well for him to see that his barns and stables were well secured. The action seemed so natural an one that neither Edgar nor Matthew took any notice, although the man had not returned when, an hour or two later, his wife hinted that it was time to retire for the night. Readily enough they agreed, and the woman led them up a flight of crazy stairs to a low room lighted by a single small curtain-screened window which peeped out of the thickness of the thatch. The room contained a rough bed and plenty of skin rugs, and in a very few minutes the two wayfarers had flung themselves down and had fallen into a sound sleep.

CHAPTER II

An Ordeal of the Night

It must have been well after midnight when Edgar awoke. What had awakened him he knew not, but he felt somehow a sense of uneasiness for which he vainly tried to account. All was as still as death within the house, save only for the regular breathing of his companion, who lay close by his side.

For some moments Edgar lay without a movement, listening intently and wondering what it could be that made him feel so uneasy and even--he could not disguise it from himself--even fearful. He could hear absolutely nothing, but yet he felt a conviction steal over him that Matthew and he were not alone in the room. Who would dare to enter their room so stealthily at dead of night? And what might be their purpose?