“Hold, chit!” cried the Baron, livid with rage. “You have gone too far. Enough of this; and you love me not now, I shall learn you to love ere the sun rises.” And with a vile oath he grasped the girl roughly by the arm, and dragged her toward the little doorway at the side of the room. CHAPTER X For three weeks after his meeting with Bertrade de Montfort and his sojourn at the castle of John de Stutevill, Norman of Torn was busy with his wild horde in reducing and sacking the castle of John de Grey, a royalist baron who had captured and hanged two of the outlaw’s fighting men; and never again after his meeting with the daughter of the chief of the barons did Norman of Torn raise a hand against the rebels or their friends. Shortly after his return to Torn, following the successful outcome of his expedition, the watch upon the tower reported the approach of a dozen armed knights. Norman sent Red Shandy to the outer walls to learn the mission of the party, for visitors seldom came to this inaccessible and unhospitable fortress; and he well knew that no party of a dozen knights would venture with hostile intent within the clutches of his great band of villains. The great red giant soon returned to say that it was Henry de Montfort, oldest son of the Earl of Leicester, who had come under a flag of truce and would have speech with the master of Torn. “Admit them, Shandy,” commanded Norman of Torn, “I will speak with them here.” When the party, a few moments later, was ushered into his presence it found itself facing a mailed knight with drawn visor. Henry de Montfort advanced with haughty dignity until he faced the outlaw. “Be ye Norman of Torn?” he asked. And, did he try to conceal the hatred and loathing which he felt, he was poorly successful. “They call me so,” replied the visored knight. “And what may bring a De Montfort after so many years to visit his old neighbor?” “Well ye know what brings me, Norman of Torn,” replied the young man. “It is useless to waste words, and we cannot resort to arms, for you have us entirely in your power. Name your price and it shall be paid, only be quick and let me hence with my sister.” “What wild words be these, Henry de Montfort? Your sister! What mean you?” “Yes, my sister Bertrade, whom you stole upon the highroad two days since, after murdering the knights of John de Stutevill who were fetching her home from a visit upon the Baron’s daughter. We know that it was you for the foreheads of the dead men bore your devil’s mark.” “Shandy!” roared Norman of Torn. “WHAT MEANS THIS? Who has been upon the road, attacking women, in my absence? You were here and in charge during my visit to my Lord de Grey. As you value your hide, Shandy, the truth!”