eBooks Base 2000

A last turn of the road showed Highstead before him, two furlongs distant.
The thatched roof of the hall rose out of a cluster of shingled huts on a
mound defended by moat and palisade. No smoke came from the dwelling, and
no man was visible, but not for nothing was Jehan named the Hunter. He was
aware that every tuft of reed and scrog of wood concealed a spear or a
bowman. So he set his head stiff and laughed, and hummed a bar of a song
which the ferry-men used to sing on Seine side. "A man does not fight to
win his home," he told his horse, "but only to defend it when he has won
it. If God so wills I shall be welcomed with open gates: otherwise there
will be burying ere nightfall."
In this fashion he rode steadfastly toward the silent burg. Now he was
within a stone's throw of it, and no spear had been launched; now he was
before the massive oaken gate. Suddenly it swung open and a man came out.
He was a short, square fellow who limped, and, half hidden by his long
hair, a great scar showed white on his forehead.


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