As he loosed, the assassin looked behind in time to see the clothyard shaft winging toward him. And so swift was the arrow's flight that before the man could move, whilst his head was still turned, the arrow pierced his back and stood forth a foot beyond his chest. He shrieked once and fell. "Bravely shot, Ralph," applauded Hugh. "It might have been worse," admitted Ralph. "'Tis the first time I have shot a man." "'Twas more than a good shot," returned Hugh, "In this light, too! An the King's Verderers saw you, Ralph, I should not keep you long." "'Twill take more than the King to pry me away from you, Messer Hugh," replied Ralph simply. "Did that dog stab you?" "'Tis of no consequence. Come, let us look at him. By his dress he was none of the Greenwood Men." "Greenwood Men!" exclaimed Ralph. "Yon was no Greenwood Man. He ran like a lumbering bull in the very way I thought he would. We would not have caught one of the Merry Men in that fashion, Messer Hugh." "He is some landless fellow, mayhap," said Hugh as they rode across the meadow. When they reached the body, Ralph drew out the arrow and turned it over so that the face was revealed in the dwindling light. "That is no Englishman--or Frenchman, either," declared Hugh. A vague feeling of uneasiness stirred him. "Have a look at his pockets," he directed. Ralph made a methodical search of the man's clothing. Except the knife, some leather string and one silver penny there was nothing to show for his trouble. But in examining the jerkin of rain-soaked, tarnished leather, the front of it tore apart. "St. Mark aid us!" murmured Ralph. "Do but see the markings on his chest, Messer Hugh!" Hugh dismounted from the stallion and bent close over the body. Daubed on the man's hairy chest in lurid colours were pictures of weird animals and a crucifix. "They will not come off," said Ralph after an unsuccessful attempt with a moistened thumb. "It will be witchcraft, mayhap." "Nay, I think not, Ralph," answered Hugh. "It is some seaman's trick--but this man is far from the sea for one of his trade. 'Tis a matter will bear investigation. Do you say nothing of it to any one. I will hold council with Prior Thomas, and we will search the roads to find if the fellow has been hereabouts." Ralph frowned down at the dead man. "I like it not," he growled. "What enemy have you, Messer Hugh, would wish to have a knife stuck in you?" "None that I know of," returned Hugh, but the feeling of uneasiness which had irked him before made his answer seem a mockery to him. That squat figure, the bestial, sullen face, the tarnished, cast-off tinsel of its garments--with or without cause, they brought to his mind the gaudy array of strangers he had last seen ducking and scraping before Mocenigo in Blancherive courtyard. He cast the idea from him as preposterous. "Come," he said abruptly. "We have to talk with Prior Thomas, and the hour grows late."