One dismal morning, when a month had passed, my heart sank, as did those of all the Mountjoys, as we made out the tall figure in black armor and the long gray beard of the Lord of Carleton, again making his rounds at the head of a group of knights and squires. Plain to see, he had recovered from his wound and was as bent as ever on Mountjoy’s fall. The old Gray Wolf was hungry not only for the house and lands of Mountjoy but also for the vengeance which to him would be sweeter than all the lands of England. Now might we expect new assaults, planned with their two failures in mind, and bringing to bear new plans and schemes and all their beastly hate and greed. Some of our old serving men shivered as they spoke of the devilish deeds of the Gray Wolf, and of the fate in store for them if the next assault should win its way. That night, at something after ten, the weather being raw and dismal with a cold spring rain and the spirits of all the Mountjoy folk somewhat adroop, one of the archers had been sent to the cellars to draw a pitcher of ale. In a moment he came up the stairs on the run, and burst into the hall with the empty pitcher held in shaking hands and with teeth chattering with fright. “Oh, my lady!” he said, catching for his breath, “the Evil One hath us now, and all our doings are for naught.” “What say’st thou, Gavin?” called his mistress, “who tells thee tales of the Evil One?” “’Tis—’Tis the truth,” answered poor Gavin, “but now, in the cellars, he goes—_tap tap tap_ in the ground at one’s feet. So has he come to take many a poor mortal. We be called for, and all our sins on our heads, with no holy man at hand to say him nay with book and bell.” “Go to. Thou’rt a coward when in the dark by thy lone,” said my lady, scornfully, “though thou fight’st well and truly with comrades at thy elbow. Marvin, if our watchers are to have their sup of ale on this raw night, thou must even draw it thyself.” But our brave old archer, hero of a hundred battles, turned pale and answered slowly: “Nay, my lady, it is not well for mortal men, with mayhap many a word and deed unconfessed and unpenanced, to meddle with the Powers of Darkness. For my sins I know them of old, and I dare not face them. Show me a mortal man, and I’ll stand before him with whatever weapons, but not the spirits that thump on the footstones by night or twist the neck of a sleeping man with a hand not seen.”