“Who are coming?” asked the dame, bending her brows somewhat sternly on the intruder. “Who are here?” “The outlandish men,” answered Wolf, excitedly, “who spare neither sex nor age; for, as my father Styr says, the French soldiers are the refuse and scum of the kingdom.” A few words will suffice to explain how the son of Styr, knowing that Dame Isabel was such a stickler for ceremony, deemed himself justified in rushing unbidden to his lady’s presence. It was a gusty Monday evening, about the beginning of March, and Wolf, having paid his last visit for the day to Ayoub and Muradel, was loitering about the stable-yard, and, boy-like, watching eagerly the movements of two young game cocks which he expected would win applause in the Barnet cock-pit and do honour to the training of Oakmede on the morrow, which happened to be Shrove-Tuesday, when his ear was arrested by the “steady whisper on the breeze and horsemen’s heavy tread” which intimates the approach of cavalry. Rumour had recently brought to Oakmede some terrible reports of the havoc wrought by the invaders, and the inmates had often instinctively felt alarmed and drawn closer together as tales of ravaging and pillage were told by pilgrims and pedlars around the winter fire of wood. But somehow or other, from the home of the Icinglas having stood through so many civil turmoils without being scathed or attacked, they never realised the idea of armed foemen appearing at the gate. Wolf, however, as he listened, began to suspect that this confidence was to meet with a rude shock, and, as he rushed out of the stable-yard, and looked up the long glade that served for avenue, his worst suspicions were confirmed by the sight of a band of horsemen whose aspect would have left no doubt that they were foreigners and coming on no friendly errand, even if his keen eyes had not recognised in their guide his ancient enemy Clem the Bold Rider, mounted on one of Sir Anthony Waledger’s horses, and pointing out the way with vindictive intent. Not a moment did he then lose in performing what he deemed his two great duties under the circumstances. The first was to give the alarm to Dame Isabel; the second to fly back to free Ayoub and Muradel from their stalls, to lead them to the rear of the buildings, and to drive them through the orchard into the woodland, confident that they, at least--thanks to their aversion to strangers and their swiftness--would escape the hands of the marauders.