Sturdily over the snow rode a young knight in armour that shone like gold. His horse was black as coal, with crimson trappings. Behind him a squire bore his broad pennon and there followed ten well-mounted men-at-arms, with bright spears and shields. At the noble’s side rode a lady on a white palfrey. She was richly dressed in ermine and vair and cloth of brocade and gold. Her face was as fair as spring-time and glowed like a rose with the sharp exercise of riding. The hoofs of the horses sounded dully on the hard-frozen snow, and the laughter of the woman pierced through the air like the clear note of a bell. Sir Philip of Gisburn returned from France, and with him travelled the fair lady Margot, the queen of love and delight. ‘Money, money, for the love of Heaven, money,’ whined the lepers. ‘Beautiful lady, money for the poor lepers.’ ‘Largesse, noble knight and gentles all.’ ‘For Christ’s sake a trifle, a miserable coin, good gentlemen.’ ‘May the Holy Virgin bless you a thousand times for each of your alms.’ ‘We will pray for you night and day for a penny, a single penny.’ They clacked their clacks and held out their wooden dishes. ‘Holy Mother, what foul creatures are these?’ cried Margot, shrinking upon her saddle. ‘But, poor souls, I pity them from my heart.’ ‘Keep back, keep back, ye hags!’ cried Sir Philip, making his stout charger rear and plunge from left to right among them. ‘Out of my way, woman,’ he cried to Alice, who stood in the way with extended dish. At the sound of his voice she looked up into his face, gave a little cry, and shuffled quickly back before the French woman’s palfrey. ‘Poor soul!’ quoth Margot, and unfastening her silken purse she threw a silver penny toward her. ‘Pray for me,’ she said. The cavalcade moved quickly on over the snow. Their merry laughter and talk rang clear upon the air, growing fainter and fainter as they descended the hill path toward the village. ‘Umph,’ said Sir Philip to the fair Margot, ‘I seem to have seen that wench’s face before, somewhere. Lo, the church steeple; we have made a good journey.’ The leper women mumbled among themselves in groups. ‘Let’s home,’ said one to Alice. ‘There’ll be no more to come by to-night; it grows dark apace. Here’s enough to stay our bellies on to-morrow.’ Alice’s laugh echoed wild and shrill over the snow. ‘Ay, home, home,’ she cried. ‘The French harlot hath given me a penny; the French harlot hath given me a penny.’ How the Devil stole the Pyx from Saint Osbert’s Church At Easter this year Sir Geoffrey gave unto the parish church to have and to keep for ever a fair silver pyx, wherein to preserve the Blessed Body of Christ, which said vessel was beset about with many precious gems and wrought with the utmost cunning of art, so that the fame thereof spread into the country round, and many folk came many miles solely to gaze upon it.