“No, it is horses,” he whispered.  “My men, they that ride horses can spare somewhat out of their abundance to feed the poor.”  And with that he began winding up his arbalest hastily.  “Aymeric,” he said to one of our afflicted company, “you draw a good bow for a blind man; hide yourself in the opposite ditch, and be ready when I give the word ’Pax vobiscum.’  You, Giles,” he spoke to the one-armed soldier, “go with him, and, do you hear, aim low, at the third man’s horse.  From the sound there are not more than five or six of them.  We can but fail, at worst, and the wood is thick behind us, where none may pursue.  You, Norman de Pitcullo, have your whinger ready, and fasten this rope tightly to yonder birch-tree stem, and then cross and give it a turn or two about that oak sapling on the other side of the way.  That trap will bring down a horse or twain.  Be quick, you Scotch wine-bag!”

I had seen many ill things done, and, to my shame, had held my peace.  But a Leslie of Pitcullo does not take purses on the high-road.  Therefore my heart rose in sudden anger, I having all day hated him more and more for his bitter tongue, and I was opening my mouth to cry “A secours!”—­a warning to them who were approaching, when, quick as lightning, Brother Thomas caught me behind the knee-joints, and I was on the ground with his weight above me.  One cry I had uttered, when his hand was on my mouth.

“Give him the steel in his guts!” whispered the blind man.

“Slit his weasand, the Scotch pig!” said the one-armed soldier.

They were all on me now.

“No, I keep him for better sport,” snarled Brother Thomas.  “He shall learn the Scots for ‘ecorcheurs’ (flayers of men) “when we have filled our pouches.”

With that he crammed a great napkin in my mouth, so that I could not cry, made it fast with a piece of cord, trussed me with the rope which he had bidden me tie across the path to trip the horses, and with a kick sent me flying to the bottom of the ditch, my face being turned from the road.

I could hear Giles and Aymeric steal across the way, and the rustling of boughs as they settled on the opposite side.  I could hear the trampling hoofs of horses coming slowly and wearily from the east.  At this moment chanced a thing that has ever seemed strange to me:  I felt the hand of the violer woman laid lightly and kindly on my hair.  I had ever pitied her, and, as I might, had been kind to her and her bairn; and now, as it appears, she pitied me.  But there could be no help in her, nor did she dare to raise her voice and give an alarm.  So I could but gnaw at my gag, trying to find scope for my tongue to cry, for now it was not only the travellers that I would save, but my own life, and my escape from a death of torment lay on my success.  But my mouth was as dry as a kiln, my tongue was doubled back till I thought that I should have choked.  The night was now deadly still, and the ring of the weary hoofs drew nearer and nearer.  I heard a stumble, and the scramble of a tired horse as he recovered himself; for the rest, all was silent, though the beating of my own heart sounded heavy and husky in my ears.