Hugh looked his surprise. "By Our Lady, sir," he returned, "you fight like a paladin from Outremer." The stranger smiled. "Sir," said he, "you do me too much honour. It is true that I come from over-sea and that I have served my apprenticeship to battle in the Holy Land, but I am no more than a poor wandering jongleur, going from land to land and from court to court and from castle to castle, wherever gentlefolk love to hear brave tales and stirring songs. And when I may not sing--why, then, I am pleased to fight, and the odds be good enough." "Is it permitted to enquire your name, Messer Jongleur?" asked Hugh. The stranger bowed. "I am known as Matteo of Antioch," he said. "And I," said Hugh, "am Hugh de Chesby." "De Chesby? You are of the same stock as the great Sir James?" "He was my father," replied Hugh proudly. The jongleur extended his hand. "That is brave news! A son of the great Sir James! Do you but sit by the roadside a moment, lordling, and I will sing you a romaunt of Sir James that hath pleased the Lords of Toulouse and Provence--ay, and the mighty Lion-Heart, your own King." Before Hugh could say a word the jongleur crossed the road to a palfrey that browsed on the grass, and from behind the saddle took a bulky package, which contained a stringed instrument called a gittern. He swept his fingers over the strings with practiced ease. "Now, they say and tell and relate," he began. But Hugh interrupted. "I crave your pardon, Messer Matteo," he said, "but the spot is not one I should select for entertainment, in view of the recent diligence hereabouts of my enemies. An I have your leave, I would suggest we delay the romaunt until we reach my castle of Chesby, which is but a short ride hence. There I shall be pleased to have you for my guest, an you will honour me." The jongleur quickly disposed of his instrument in its wrappings. "Messer Hugh," he said, "it was indeed thoughtless of me to risk your safety again. But that is a romaunt I am more proud of than any other I have composed, and I am most anxious to have your opinion concerning its presentation of the facts. For, by all the Saints, none should be better qualified than the son of your father to judge if I have done full justice to Sir James's memory." "His memory!" repeated Hugh. "Sure, you do not deem him dead?" The jongleur gave him a swift look. "That is a long story," he answered. "But let us put off this talk until we be safe from the arrows of yon knaves." CHAPTER V HUGH GAINS A FRIEND The jongleur softly fingered the strings of his instrument. He sat with Hugh on the dais of the Great Hall in the keep of Chesby Castle, a counterpart of Blancherive, solidly-built in the Norman way, but crude and comfortless. The evening shadows lengthened on the rush-strewn floor. The ale-horns stood filled on the table before them.