the　butt　and　laughing…stock　of　everyone；　and　still　bearing　up　the
  whole　world　upon　his　weary　shoulders。　　He　had　set　it　all　out　in　a
  fair　parable；　so　now　as　he　rode　he　repeated　some　of　the　verses；
  chanting　them　and　marking　time　with　his　forefinger；　while　Nigel
  and　Aylward　on　either　side　of　him　with　their　heads　inclined　inward
  listened　with　the　same　attention；　but　with　very　different　feelings
  …　Nigel　shocked　at　such　an　attack　upon　authority；　and　Aylward
  chuckling　as　he　heard　the　sentiments　of　his　class　so　shrewdly
  expressed。　　At　last　the　stranger　halted　his　horse　outside　the
  〃Five　Angels〃　at　Gatton。
  〃It　is　a　good　inn；　and　I　know　the　ale　of　old；〃　said　he。　　〃When　I
  had　finished　that　‘Dream　of　Piers　the　Plowman　from　which　I　have
  recited　to　you；　the　last　verses　were　thus：
  〃‘Now　have　I　brought　my　little　booke　to　an　ende
  God's　blessing　be　on　him　who　a　drinke　will　me　sende'　…
  I　pray　you　come　in　with　me　and　share　it。〃
  〃Nay；〃　said　Nigel；　〃we　must　on　our　way；　for　we　have　far　to　go。
  But　give　me　your　name；　my　friend；　for　indeed　we　have　passed　a
  merry　hour　listening　to　your　words。〃
  〃Have　a　care！〃　the　stranger　answered；　shaking　his　head。　　〃You　and
  your　class　will　not　spend　a　merry　hour　when　these　words　are　turned
  into　deeds　and　Peter　the　Plowman　grows　weary　of　swinking　in　the
  fields　and　takes　up　his　bow　and　his　staff　in　order　to　set　this
  land　in　order。〃
  〃By　Saint　Paul！　　I　expect　that　we　shall　bring　Peter　to　reason　and
  also　those　who　have　put　such　evil　thoughts　into　his　head；〃　said
  Nigel。　　〃So　once　more　I　ask　your　name；　that　I　may　know　it　if　ever
  I　chance　to　hear　that　you　have　been　hanged？〃
  The　stranger　laughed　good…humoredly。　　〃You　can　call　me　Thomas
  Lackland；〃　said　he。　　〃I　should　be　Thomas　Lack…brain　if　I　were
  indeed　to　give　my　true　name；　since　a　good　many　robbers；　some　in
  black　gowns　and　some　in　steel；　would　be　glad　to　help　me　upwards　in
  the　way　you　speak　of。　　So　good…day　to　you；　Squire；　and　to　you
  also；　archer；　and　may　you　find　your　way　back　with　whole　bones　from
  the　wars！〃
  That　night　the　comrades　slept　in　Godstone　Priory；　and　early　next
  morning　they　were　well　upon　their　road　down　the　Pilgrim's　Way。　　At
  Titsey　it　was　said　that　a　band　of　villeins　were　out　in　Westerham
  Wood　and　had　murdered　three　men　the　day　before；　so　that　Nigel　had
  high　hopes　of　an　encounter；　but　the　brigands　showed　no　sign；
  though　the　travelers　went　out　of　their　way　to　ride　their　horses
  along　the　edges　of　the　forest。　　Farther　on　they　found　traces　of
  their　work；　for　the　path　ran　along　the　hillside　at　the　base　of　a
  chalk　quarry；　and　there　in　the　cutting　a　man　was　lying　dead。　　From
  his　twisted　limbs　and　shattered　frame　it　was　easy　to　see　that　he
  had　been　thrown　over　from　above；　while　his　pockets　turned　outward
  showed　the　reason　for　his　murder。　　The　comrades　rode　past　without
  too　close　a　survey；　for　dead　men　were　no　very　uncommon　objects　on
  the　King's　highway；　and　if　sheriff　or　bailiff　should　chance　upon
  you　near　the　body　you　might　find　yourself　caught　in　the　meshes　of
  the　law。
  Near　Sevenoaks　their　road　turned　out　of　the　old　Canterbury　way　and
  pointed　south　toward　the　coast；　leaving　the　chalk　lands　and　coming
  down　into　the　clay　of　the　Weald。　　It　was　a　wretched；　rutted
  mule…track　running　through　thick　forests　with　occasional　clearings
  in　which　lay　the　small　Kentish　villages；　where　rude　shock…headed
  peasants　with　smocks　and　galligaskins　stared　with　bold；　greedy
  eyes　at　the　travelers。　　Once　on　the　right　they　caught　a　distant
  view　of　the　Towers　of　Penshurst；　and　once　they　heard　the　deep
  tolling　of　the　bells　of　Bayham　Abbey；　but　for　the　rest　of　their
  day's　journey　savage　peasants　and　squalid　cottages　were　all　that
  met　their　eyes；　with　endless　droves　of　pigs　who　fed　upon　the
  litter　of　acorns。　　The　throng　of　travelers　who　crowded　the　old
  road　were　all　gone；　and　only　here　and　there　did　they　meet　or
  overtake　some　occasional　merchant　or　messenger　bound　for　Battle
  Abbey；　Pevensey　Castle　or　the　towns　of　the　south。
  That　night　they　slept　in　a　sordid　inn；　overrun　with　rats　and　with
  fleas；　one　mile　south　of　the　hamlet　of　Mayfield。　　Aylward
  scratched　vigorously　and　cursed　with　fervor。　　Nigel　lay　without
  movement　or　sound。　　To　the　man　who　had　learned　the　old　rule　of
  chivalry　there　were　no　small　ills　in　life。　　It　was　beneath　the
  dignity　of　his　soul　to　stoop　to　observe　them。　　Cold　and　heat；
  hunger　and　thirst；　such　things　did　not　exist　for　the　gentleman。
  The　armor　of　his　soul　was　so　complete　that　it　was　proof　not　only
  against　the　great　ills　of　life　but　even　against　the　small　ones；　so
  the　flea…bitten　Nigel　lay　grimly　still　while　Aylward　writhed　upon
  his　couch。
  They　were　now　but　a　short　distance　from　their　destination；　but
  they　had　hardly　started　on　their　journey　through　the　forest　next
  morning；　when　an　adventure　befell　them　which　filled　Nigel　with　the
  wildest　hopes。
  Along　the　narrow　winding　path　between　the　great　oak　trees　there
  rode　a　dark　sallow　man　in　a　scarlet　tabard　who　blew　so　loudly　upon
  a　silver　trumpet　that　they　heard　the　clanging　call　long　before
  they　set　eyes　on　him。　　Slowly　he　advanced；　pulling　up　every　fifty
  paces　to　make　the　forest　ring　with　another　warlike　blast。　　The
  comrades　rode　forward　to　meet　him。
  〃I　pray　you；〃　said　Nigel；　〃to　tell　me　who　you　are　and　why　you　blow
  upon　this　trumpet。〃
  The　fellow　shook　his　head；　so　Nigel　repeated　the　question　in
  French；　the　common　language　of　chivalry；　spoken　at　that　age　by
  every　gentleman　in　Western　Europe。
  The　man　put　his　lips　to　the　trumpet　and　blew　another　long　note
  before　he　answered。　　〃I　am　Gaston　de　Castrier；〃　said　he；　〃the
  humble　Squire　of　the　most　worthy　and　valiant　knight　Raoul　de
  Tubiers；　de　Pestels；　de　Grimsard；　de　Mersac；　de　Leoy；　de　Bastanac；
  who　also　writes　himself　Lord　of　Pons。　　It　is　his　order　that　I　ride
  always　a　mile　in　front　of　him　to　prepare　all　to　receive　him；　and
  he　desires　me　to　blow　upon　a　trumpet　not　out　of　vainglory；　but　out
  of　greatness　of　spirit；　so　that　none　may　be　ignorant　of　his　coming
  should　they　desire　to　encounter　him。〃
  Nigel　sprang　from　his　horse　with　a　cry　of　joy；　and　began　to
  unbutton　his　doublet。　　〃Quick；　Aylward；　quick！〃　he　said。　　〃He
  comes；　a　knight　errant　comes！　　Was　there　ever　such　a　chance　of
  worshipfully　winning　worship？　　Untruss　the　harness　whilst　I　loose
  my　clothes！　　Good　sir；　I　beg　you　to　warn　your　noble　and　valiant
  master　that　a　poor　Squire　of　England　would　implore　him　to　take
  notice　of　him　and　to　do　some　small　deed　upon　him　as　he　passes。〃
  But　already　the　Lord　of　Pons　had　come　in　sight。　　He　was　a　huge　man
  upon　an　enormous　horse；　so　that　together　they　seemed　to　fill　up
  the　whole　long　dark　archway　under　the　oaks。　　He　was　clad　in　full
  armor　of　a　brazen　hue　with　only　his　face　exposed；　and　of　this　face
  there　was　little　visible　save　a　pair　of　arrogant　eyes　and　a　great
  black　beard；　which　flowed　through　the　open　vizor　and　down　over　his
  breastplate。　　To　the　crest　of　his　helmet　was　tied　a　small　brown
  glove；　nodding　and　swinging　above　him。　　He　bore　a　long　lance　with
  a　red　square　banner　at　the　end；　charged　with　a　black　boar's　head；
  and　the　same　symbol　was　engraved　upon　his　shield。　　Slowly　he　rode
  through　the　forest；　ponderous；　menacing；　with　dull　thudding　of　his
  charger's　hoofs　and　constant　clank　of　metal；　while　always　in　front
  of　him　came　the　distant　peal　of　the　silver　trumpet　calling　all　men
  to　admit　his　majesty　and　to　clear　his　path　ere　they　be　cleared
  from　it。
  Never　in　his　dreams　had　so　perfect　a　vision　come　to　cheer　Nigel's
  heart；　and　as　he　struggled　with　his　clothes；　glancing　up
  continually　at　this　wondrous　traveler；　he　pattered　forth　prayers
  of　thanksgiving　to　the　good　Saint　Paul　who　had　shown　such　loving…
  kindness　to　his　unworthy　servant　and　thrown　him　in　the　path　of　so
  excellent　and　debonair　a　gentleman。
  But　alas！　how　often　at　the　last　instant　the　cup　is　dashed　from　the
  lips！　　This　joyful　chance　was　destined　to　change　suddenly　to
  unexpected　and　grotesque　disaster　…　disaster　so　strange　and　so
  complete　that　through　all　his　life　Nigel　flushed　crimson　when　he
  thought　of　it。　　He　was　busily　stripping　his　hunting…costume；　and
  with　feverish　haste　he　had　doffed　boots；　hat；　hose；　doublet　and
  cloak；　so　that　nothing　remained　save　a　pink　jupon　and　pair　of
  silken　drawers。　　At　the　same　time　Aylward　was　hastily　unbuckling
  the　load　with　the　intention　of　handing　his　master　his　armor　piece
  by　piece；　when　the　Squire　gave　one　last　challenging　peal　from　his
  silver　trumpet　into　the　very　ear　of　the　spare　horse。
  In　an　instant　it　had　taken　to　its　heels；　the　precious　armor　upon
  its　back；　and　thundered　away　down　the　road　which　they　had
  traversed。　　Aylward　jumped　upon　his　mare；　drove　his　prick　spurs
  into　her　sides　and　galloped　after　the　runaway　as　hard　as　he　could
  ride。　　Thus　it　came　about　that　in　an　instant　Nigel　was　shorn　of
  all　his　little　dignity；　had　lost　his　two　horses；　his　attendant　and
  his　outfit；　and　found　himself　a　lonely　and　unarmed　man　standing　in
  his　shirt　and　drawers　upon　the　pathway　down　which　the　burly　figure
  of　the　Lord　of　Pons　was　slowly　advancing。
  The　knight　errant；　whose　mind　had　been　filled　by　the　thought　of
  the　maiden　whom　he　had　left　behind　at　St。　Jean　…　the　same　whose
  glove　dangled　from　his　helmet　…　had　observed　nothin