The countenances of the older warriors around St. Aliquis; the great scars on cheek, chin, and forehead; the mutilated noses and ears--tell how strenuous have been most of their lives. The scars are badges of honor. Aimery is nigh regretful that there are no slashes on his youthful countenance, although Sire Eustace, his mentor, grimly assures him "this trouble will pass with time." Aimery is now nineteen. His brother gave him a careful training, as becoming the cadet of a great house, and then arranged that he be "nourished"--that is, taken into the family and educated as squire--by a powerful count. Unfortunately, just as Aimery was about to demand knighthood of his lord, the latter suddenly died. He therefore returned to St. Aliquis and waited some months impatiently, until Conon could give him an adubbement worthy of the St. Aliquis name. From earliest youth Aimery has had success in arms held before him as the one thing worth living for. True, he has been taught to be pious. He understands it is well that God has created priests and monks, who may by their ceremonies and prayers enable the good warriors to enter into paradise. But the squire has never had the slightest desire to become a cleric himself. He thanks his divine patroness, St. Génevieve, that Conon has not treated him as so many younger brothers are treated, and forced him into the Church. What is it to become a lazy rich canon, or even a splendid lord bishop, beside experiencing even the modest joys of a common sire with a small castle, a fast horse, good hawks, and a few stout retainers? Aimery has learned to attend mass devoutly and to accept implicitly the teachings of the priests, but his moral training is almost entirely based on "courtesy," a very secular code indeed. Hence he acts on the advice given him while very young: "Honor all churchmen, but look well to your money." Another well-remembered warning is never to put trust in villeins. He cannot, indeed, refuse to deal with them. He must treat them ordinarily with decency, but never trust them as real friends. The ignoble are habitually deceitful. They cannot understand a cavalier's "honor." They are capable of all kinds of base villainies. A sage man will have comradeship only with his nobly born peers, and pride is no fault in a baron when dealing with inferiors. [Illustration: GOTHIC WRITING From a thirteenth-century chart.] [Sidenote: Literary Education of Young Nobles]