“My lord, you say truly,” replied Oliver Icingla, excitedly. “I know something of him, and if there is in broad England a man whose single hand could stay the rush of a hundred foes, it is Forest Will, or Will with the Club.” It was at this moment that John, having risen to his feet, and assured himself that he was not seriously hurt, looked his preserver keenly in the face. “By God’s teeth!” exclaimed the king, taken somewhat aback, “I surely dream. Is it William de Collingham that I see before me?” “In truth, king,” answered the forester with a dauntless air, and something like a sneer on his handsome features, “I once bore the name which you have mentioned; but when you were pleased, in the plenitude of your power, to outlaw me and send me into exile, I dropped the Collingham, not caring to burden myself with the duties which bearing it involved, and I have since gone by whatever name my neighbours have thought fit to bestow on me.” “William,” said the king, “I owe you a life, for you have saved mine this day.” “Well, sire,” replied the outlaw, “I dare be sworn that it is more than those would have cared to do this day by whose counsel I was brought to ruin, and forced to herd with broken men.” “By God’s teeth! you speak no more than the truth,” exclaimed John, before whose mind’s eye the outlaw’s word conjured up several of the barons, once in his favour, but now leagued for his destruction. “But let bygones be bygones. I now know you better, and will more value your services in time to come.” The outlaw bent his strong knee to the king, and John’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction; for he knew that he had secured one ally who, in the approaching struggle, would serve him with a fidelity proof against trials and temptations. But the good-humour which this consideration created in John’s breast was destined to be short-lived. Scarcely had he returned to the Tower of London when news of evil import reached him. It was to the effect that Alexander, King of Scots, had yielded to the persuasion of Hugh de Moreville, and formed an alliance, offensive and defensive, with the barons of England. John was vexed in the extreme; but the intelligence was so depressing that he was not violent, only vindictive. “Alexander of Scotland, and the people whom he rules, shall have reason to rue his rashness. As for Hugh de Moreville, I will without delay show the world how I punish such treachery as his. Let his kinsman, Icingla, be forthwith seized and secured, lest he attempt to escape; for, by the light of Our Lady’s brow, he shall hang ere sunset!” “Sire!” exclaimed Lord Neville in horror, “you would not hang Oliver Icingla? I will answer for his loyalty.” “Answer for yourself, my Lord Neville,” said John, frowning sternly, for he was in that temper in which a man cannot distinguish friends from enemies, if they are unfortunate enough to cross his humour. CHAPTER X WILLIAM DE COLLINGHAM