The man shook his head. “I do not think there is much likelihood of that, lady; since the Bridge was built, no one has wanted to use the ford; and there is little else to take that way for, unless you are going to service in the West Minster or to the Monastery.” “Wanted!” the Lady of Northampton repeated in the extremity of scorn. “Bid them turn into that road at once. They stand some chance of their faces getting clean if they take the ford,—if they also get drowned matters very little. Tell them, seek what they may seek, to take that way instantly, or the King shall punish them for interfering with their betters.” The man pushed up his leather cap to scratch his head. He was not unacquainted with her custom of sweeping the Northamptonshire serfs off any road she wished to possess, but that struck him as being somewhat easier than dispersing a Coronation mob at the gates of London; and yet to defy her—that was harder than either of them! It was an interposition of his good angel that at this moment provided a diversion. Randalin broke from her silence with an exclamation: “Thorkel! Yonder!” Less than fifty paces ahead of them, the grizzled head of the King’s foster-father rose steeple-like above the crowd, while the mighty shoulders of the King’s foster-brother made a bulwark beside it, and the gilded helms of the King’s guard formed a palisade around them. The obstacle in the way was nothing less than a royal detachment drawn up in waiting beside the road. Elfgiva’s frown relaxed; for the first time in many days she let the liquid music of her laughter trickle forth. “Be blithesome in your minds, maidens!” she called gayly over her shoulder. “Friends are at hand to take charge of us.” Taking into consideration what they had expected, the attention was so flattering that at first they scarcely dared believe it; but its truth was proved the moment Thorkel turned his head and saw them coming. At his command, the line of gilded helms quickly drew out across the road in a barrier which once more dammed the human stream to overflowing. A break in the middle allowed the party from Gloucester to filter through; then the opening closed behind them; the line bent at either end, and they moved as between walls, guarded against any further jostling or rude contact. Elfgiva sparkled with delight and greeted the Tall One with more affability than she had ever before deigned his gruffness. “Since my royal lord came not himself to meet us,” she said graciously,—and pushing her hood entirely back so that he might get the full benefit of her face, “he has well honored us in his messengers, than whom no persons could be more welcome. I pray you, tell me without delay how it stands with his health and his fortunes.”