"Well, you have done credit to us, boy, and your monkish reading and writing has not harmed you, as I was afraid it would. Alwyn tells me that no man of Percy's troop did better than you, in that fight with the Welsh; save, mayhap, that big man-at-arms down there, who, he tells me, cracked the skulls of four Welshmen who were trying to stab you, besides those he disposed of on his own account." "I owe him my life, indeed, Father. He is a man after your own heart, strong and brave and hearty, even jovial when occasion offers. He can troll out a border lay with the best, and can yet read and write as well as an abbot. His name is Roger." "Come up, Roger," John Forster shouted, "and give me a grip of your hand. You have saved my son's life, as he tells me; and, so long as you live, there will be a nook by the fire, here, and a hearty welcome, when you are tired of soldiering." "In truth, you are a mighty man," he went on, after he and Roger had exchanged a grip that would have well nigh broken the bones of an ordinary man. "I have been looked upon as one able to strike as hard a blow as any on the border; but assuredly, you would strike a heavier one. Why, man, you must be five or six inches bigger, round the chest, than I am." "You have been an active man from your youth," Roger replied, "ever on horseback and about, while I spent years with nought to do but eat and drink, and build up my frame, in a monastery." "Oswald told us, in his letters, that you had been a monk; but had, with the consent of the abbot, unfrocked yourself." "It was so," Roger replied, with a laugh. "Methinks that it was a happy day for the abbot, as well as for myself, when I laid aside my gown; for I fear that I gave him more trouble than all the rest of his convent. Besides, it was as if a wolf's cub had been brought up among a litter of ladies' lapdogs--it was sure to be an ill time for both." "And for how long are you at home with us, brother Alwyn?" John Forster asked, presently. "I am here for a week only, John; but Oswald has leave for a month, seeing that, at present, there is no great chance of Hotspur needing his services. The Scotch are quiet since the king returned, I hear." "Ay, they are as quiet as is their nature to be, but 'tis not likely to last long. I went not with the army, but I hear that Henry behaved so gently that the Scotch feel that it would be almost an act of ingratitude to meddle with us, for a time. However, that will not last long. Next spring they will doubtless be storming down over the hills again."