The abbot and his company wound down the zig-zag road and turned face toward the distant Abbey of Saint Pamphilius. Riding westward they came into the fir wood. The sun was at the hill-tops, when they overtook a limping pedestrian,—a youth in a coarse and worn dress, with shoes of poor leather and leggings of bark bound with thongs, and with a caped hood that obscured his features. Questioned, he said that his father sowed grain and reaped it for Castel-Noir, but that he had an uncle who was a dyer and lived beyond Albi. His uncle was an old man and had somewhat to leave and his father had got permission for him to go on a visit—and he had hurt his foot. With that he looked wistfully at the horse of the lay brother who had summoned him to the abbot. “Saint Gilles!” exclaimed the abbot, and he spoke loud and goldenly. “It were a long way to hop to Albi! Not a day but I strive to plant one kindly deed—Take him up, my son, behind thee!” CHAPTER VI THE GARDEN THE Abbot of Saint Pamphilius and Garin the squire rode westward—that is to say they rode away from the busy town of Roche-de-Frêne; the cathedral, where, atop the mounting tower, trowel clinked against stone; the bishop’s palace, where, that morning Ugo wrote a letter to Pope Alexander; and the vast castle with Gaucelm the Fortunate’s banner above it. Roche-de-Frêne dyed with scarlet second only to that of Montpellier. It wove fine stuffs, its saddlers were known for their work, it made good weapons. Rome had left it a ruined amphitheatre—not so large as that at Arles, but large enough to house a trade. Here was the quarter of the moulders of candles. A fair wine was made in the country roundabout, brought to Roche-de-Frêne and sold, and thence sold again. It was a mart likewise for great, creamy-flanked cattle. They came in droves over the bridge that crossed the river and were sold and bought without the walls, in the long, poplar-streaked field where was held the yearly fair. It was not a free town—not yet. Time was when its people had been serfs wholly, chattels and thralls completely of the lords who built the great castle. Less than a hundred years ago that was still largely true. Then had entered small beginnings, fragmentary privileges, rights of trade, commutations, market grants. These had increased; every decade saw a little freedom filched. Lords must have wealth, and the craftsmen and traders made it; money-rent entered in place of old obediences. Silver paid off body-service. Skill increased, and the number of wares made, and commerce in them. Wealth increased. The town grew bolder and consciously strove for small liberties. Roche-de-Frêne was different now indeed from the old times when it had been wholly servile. It was growing with the strong twelfth century. All manner of ideas entered its head.