"There, drink that, my lad, and it will bring back the color to your face. When you have fought a few battles in France under king Harry, and waded ankle-deep in the blood of the fine French gentry, you will have a stouter heart. Come now, quit your trade and be one of us." Geoffrey drank, and did feel stronger; but just as he was about to answer, a stir within turned the attention of the whole company another way. The door opened wide, and the Lieutenant of the Tower entered, followed by the sheriff and other officers leading two men heavily fettered. Geoffrey looked up and recognized in one of the noble, kingly-looking old men, the preacher he had come to seek, and he had no doubt but that his companion was Sir Roger. In a moment the soldiers, at a word from the Lieutenant, formed in a line on each side of the sheriffs, and prepared to escort the prisoners to the place of trial. The boy had nothing to do but to follow as fast as possible, and he saw the whole train pass quickly through the various courts to the river-gate, and there embarking in some barges ready manned with stout rowers, they passed out of sight around an angle of the building. *CHAPTER VI.* _*The Trial.*_ Arundel sat in his seat of judgment in the great hall of one of the monasteries belonging to the Dominican Friars. Beside him, in full canonicals, sat the bishops of London, Winchester, and others, ready to assist him, by their learning and authority, to cleanse the church from the stains of heresy and schism. Below the table, where clerks sat ready with pens and parchment to take down the evidence, there were men of every degree and class. Friars in black, and friars in gray, friars whose portly persons reminded the spectator more of midnight wassail than of midnight prayer, and friars whose pale, hungry-looking faces, gaunt bodies, and knotted scourges hanging at their sides, were in strict conformity with the stern rule of Saint Benedict.