"The men shall be found," cried the priest exultingly. "Our cause advances. I believe that Heaven will give us the victory." * * * * * So well arranged and so swift had been the capture of Beatrice d’Alençon that her defenders had been stricken down and all was over before she had fully grasped that they were attacked. It was not indeed until she had ridden for some distance with one of her captors on either side that she realized that she and her maid were prisoners in the hands of unknown men, who seemed, from the purposeful way in which they rode, to have a definite and well-planned object in view. To escape was her first impulse, but a grip of iron fell upon the bridle the instant she attempted to turn her horse’s head. "What meaneth this?" she cried out at last in indignation and distress. "Where are you taking me, and with what purpose?" A stolid silence, broken only by the trampling of the steeds, met her cry. More alarmed still, if possible, by the silence of her captors, Beatrice dragged desperately at her bridle and made her horse plunge violently. With a savage word one of the men (it was Baulch) tore the bridle roughly from her grasp. "Be still!" he cried. "Play me that trick again and thou shalt ride in front of my saddle. Ha, ha! Perchance that will suit thee better, maiden?" he added with a leer. "Ruffian," cried Beatrice with a shudder of disgust, "ruffian, what meaneth this shameful assault upon my retainers, and why drag ye me thus away from all my friends? Answer me." "Remain still or not a word wilt thou get," growled the man who had before spoken. "We are taking thee to a friend of thy guardian. Ha, ha!--a friend who hath watched over his welfare right carefully of late, and one, too, who knoweth thee well, and who desireth to know thee better. Ha, ha, ha!" So hateful to Beatrice was the man’s coarse laugh and evil look that she preferred to remain silent rather than provoke another sally. Without further resistance or attempt to find out whither she was going, she allowed herself to be led across country for mile after mile. Her maid, weeping hysterically, rode behind in charge of another of the ruffians, and even the consolation of closer intercourse was for some time denied them. To Beatrice’s surprise, and even more to her utter consternation, the strange journey went on, not for hours but for days, and it was not until some five days after her capture that the party reached what she guessed to be their destination. This was a castle of so grim and gloomy an appearance that the sight of it made her heart sink with terror and apprehension. What fate might not be in store for her in a place so remote and in a prison looking so strong and ruthless?