"Would that I knew, Edith. Well, shall we head back to the Castle and find out?" She considered, her face of a sudden very grave. "No, I have a feeling bids me not, Hugh," she decided. "Let us make the most of this day while we have it. What next?" "First pick up Ralph. Then--what say you to flushing Prior Thomas? I am starved, and there is always good food at the Priory." "Excellent," she applauded. "'Tis better far than the Castle hall and company manners, if strangers be there. Yonder is Ralph. I'll race you to him." "Done!" Away galloped the two steeds, neck and neck, and Ralph, seeing them coming, drew aside. They thundered up to him and reined to a halt. "Who won?" demanded Edith. "Nay, mistress, I did not see," stammered the giant. "There was not a whisker between the noses of the two. But this long time past I have thought ye dead or broken." "We have had an adventure, Ralph," Hugh told him. "We have met strangers for Blancherive on the highroad." "Not the King's heralds from London?" "Nay, fool! King John is too concerned with his own affairs to waste heralds on us. They were strangers--from Outremer, mayhap." Ralph's eyes grew big. "From Outremer? Belike they have seen the heathen lands, where the Paynims and the man-eaters live." "Well, of that we shall learn more anon," returned Hugh, by no means sceptical. "For this present, Ralph, we seek the Prior and food. Canst lead us thither the shortest way?" "Ay, and that readily." It was a half-hour's canter to Crowden Priory on the near edge of the Wood, and they rode as youth loves to ride: a headlong gait. Crupper to crupper, the black mare and the grey stallion kept even pace, with never a snort of fatigue from distended nostrils. For a time they rode in silence, each buried in thoughts that had risen since the odd meeting in the highroad. Then Hugh said abruptly to his comrade: "I shall ask this man if he wots aught of my father." Her eyes met his. "You are still of a mind to go knight erranting, Hugh?" "Ay, naught shall shake me," he answered gloomily. "'tis a mystery ill likes me. I have a mind to know: Have I a father or have I not? It seems there is none can tell me. I shall go and search for myself when I am free." "And that will be a year's time hence?" "'Tis so set down in the deed in Prior Thomas's chest. The day I shall be one-and-twenty I shall be free of the Chesby lands, free of myself, free to do as I list, go as I list, come as I list." He straightened in his saddle. "Ah, that day is long in coming, Edith! I find no fault with Prior Thomas. Fair he hath been with me always, and lenient. But these two years now, I have longed to be up and doing, riding with the King or for my own hand. The world goes on apace, and I must sit home here and play at jousting in the Castle yard or----" "Or ride in Crowden Wood with me," she finished for him reproachfully. "Nay, Hugh, you are not gallant."