"Well, well, what is all this to me?" asked Boyd, impatiently. "The queen is dead and buried. God rest her soul! It had little rest here, since she married the murderer of her husband. The king might love her, or might not, may grieve for her, or not. What is all that to me? She was not my wife;" and, seating himself on the bench, he bent his eyes thoughtfully upon the ground. "Well then, my court news is told," said Sam. "Now for my country gossip. Know you, good man Boyd, that the Lord Chartley, whom you and I had to do with a good many months ago, when they burned the houses on the abbey green, is back at Tamworth?" "Ay, I know," replied Boyd. "He has been here thrice, hovering about like a fly round a lamp." "He's a good youth," said the piper. "He promised me one gold angel, and he gave me two. He has a right loving remembrance of that night too; for I never see him but I get a silver remembrance thereof, so I am rich now, Master Boyd. Then, there's his good cousin, Sir William Arden. He hangs fondly about here too, and is, most days, at the grate of the convent." "Ay, what does he there?" asked Boyd. "Why, he talks to the Lady Constance by the hour," answered the piper; "and they all say it will be a match, although, if he be not well stricken in years, he has been well stricken in wars. He's a good man too, and bountiful of silver groats; but his hair is getting mottled with grey, so that he is not so good a man as the young lord, whose hair is all brown. 'Oh, give to me the bonny brown hair, The teeth so white, and the skin so fair, The lightsome step, and the dainty air, Of my sweet Meg of the May.' "No, no. I like Chartley best; and I shall make a fortune by him too, before I've done. 'Tis the first luck that ever befel me, and I shall open my cap to catch it." "Then, will you let it all run out in drink?" said Boyd. "But, how may this luck come to you?" "Why, he has promised me," said the piper, "to fill me a gill stoup with gold pieces, if I can find out for him where liggs the pretty lass who watched with him in the forest through one live-long night not long ago. The Lady Iola, they call her. I know not if you know such a one, woodman; but he has asked high and asked low, asked rich and asked poor, and employed all sorts of cunning men to know where the lady is, so that, in sheer despair, he has betaken himself to a piper--and the piper is the man for his money, for he has found her out." The woodman started at his words; and, turning upon him with a stern brow, he said-- "And thou hast told him?" The piper paused for a moment, and then laughed.