“Cedric!” cried my mother, “thou canst not mean it. Think what Mountjoy means to thy fortunes; and think again of the good-will we all bear thee. Say to Lord Mountjoy that those were but thoughtless words, and be our man again.” Cedric shook his head, but trusted not his voice to speak. Thereat my father drew from his pouch a purse of gold and offered him. “Thou hast given the Mountjoy right loyal service. Take this in token.” But Cedric again shook his head. “Nay, my lord, such service as I gave was not for gold, and I cannot receive it. With your leave, I will take the steed that was the Carleton’s, and since called mine, and ride away from Mountjoy where my words and thoughts are dangerous.” More talk there was and further urgings from my mother and from me; but Cedric’s will remained unmoved. Lord Mountjoy paced back and forth before the hearth with hands clasped behind his back and with a deeply furrowed brow. The Forester bowed low again and left the hall; and soon thereafter we heard the tramp of his horse on the drawbridge. Then I took me to the battlements and watched my loyal squire and comrade till his figure grew dim and disappeared on the road that lay to the south and east, toward London town. Three mournful days went by. Word came that the peasantry of DeLancey Manor had been herded up by the Constable and his lancers, and that two of the ringleaders had been hanged. Although my father gave the messenger who brought this news a broad piece of gold, it seemed to bring him but little cheer to know that the slayers of his friend had met their punishment. There was but little talk in Mountjoy Hall; the rain fell dismally without; the days were dark and cold; and e’en our good log fire seemed powerless to brighten them. Then came, hard riding, a messenger from the Lord of Morton. He bore a letter from his lordship to my father; and filled it was with direful news. Old Marvin of Mountjoy had been sorely wounded at Morton in some fray for which Lord Morton blamed no other than his own son, who, it seems, had perished in the fighting. Lord Morton wrote in noble fashion of his grief that our retainer should have come to harm through any of his house, and said that Marvin had the best of care at Morton, and that, so soon as he should be sufficiently recovered, he should be borne to Mountjoy in a litter, and that all of the goods of his brother who had lately died should be honorably bestowed upon him. The letter was brief withal; and when my father had finished reading it to us we yet remained sore puzzled at this happening. We turned again to the old serving man who had brought the message, and him Lord Mountjoy questioned sharply: “Know’st thou aught of this affair, my man, save what is set forth in this letter?” “Aye, my lord,” he answered heavily, “much of this sad work I saw. ’Twas an ill time indeed, for my Lord of Morton is far gone in years, and now this misfortune hath robbed him of his only son and heir.”