“You be King of England, My Lord Henry. If you say that he shall be hanged, hanged he shall be,” replied De Montfort. “A dozen courts have already passed sentence upon him, it only remains to catch him, Leicester,” said the King. “A party shall sally forth at dawn to do the work,” replied De Montfort. “And not,” thought Philip of France, “if I know it, shall the brave Outlaw of Torn be hanged tomorrow.” In his camp without the city of Battel, Norman of Torn paced back and forth waiting an answer to his message. Sentries patrolled the entire circumference of the bivouac, for the outlaw knew full well that he had put his head within the lion’s jaw when he had ridden thus boldly to the seat of English power. He had no faith in the gratitude of De Montfort, and he knew full well what the King would urge when he learned that the man who had sent his soldiers naked back to London, who had forced his messenger to eat the King’s message, and who had turned his victory to defeat at Lewes, was within reach of the army of De Montfort. Norman of Torn loved to fight, but he was no fool, and so he did not relish pitting his thousand upon an open plain against twenty thousand within a walled fortress. No, he would see Bertrade de Montfort that night and before dawn his rough band would be far on the road toward Torn. The risk was great to enter the castle, filled as it was with his mighty enemies. But if he died there, it would be in a good cause, thought he and, anyway, he had set himself to do this duty which he dreaded so, and do it he would were all the armies of the world camped within Battel. Directly he heard a low challenge from one of his sentries, who presently appeared escorting a lackey. “A messenger from Lady Bertrade de Montfort,” said the soldier. “Bring him hither,” commanded the outlaw. The lackey approached and handed Norman of Torn a dainty parchment sealed with scented wax wafers. “Did My Lady say you were to wait for an answer?” asked the outlaw. “I am to wait, My Lord,” replied the awestruck fellow, to whom the service had been much the same had his mistress ordered him to Hell to bear a message to the Devil. Norman of Torn turned to a flickering torch and, breaking the seals, read the message from the woman he loved. It was short and simple. To Norman of Torn, from his friend always, Bertrade de Montfort. Come with Giles. He has my instructions to lead thee secretly to where I be. Bertrade de Montfort. Norman of Torn turned to where one of his captains squatted upon the ground beside an object covered with a cloth. “Come, Flory,” he said, and then, turning to the waiting Giles, “lead on.”