It was eventide, the work of the day was over, and Brian was taking counsel with Malebouche, who had risen by degrees to high command amongst the troopers, although unknighted. Osric was present, and sat in an embrasure of the window.
"A good day's work, Malebouche," said Brian; "that convoy of merchandise going from Reading to Abingdon was a good prize—our halls will be the better for their gauds, new hangings of tapestry, silks, and the like; but as we are deficient in women to admire them, I would sooner have had their value in gold."
"There is this bag of rose nobles, which we took from the body of the chief merchant."
"Well, it will serve as an example to others, who travel by by-roads to avoid paying me tribute, and rob me of my dues. Merchants from Reading have tried to get to Abingdon by that road over Cholsey Hill before."
"They will hardly try again if they hear of this."
"At least these will not—you have been too prompt with them; did any escape?"
"I think not; my fellows lanced them as they fled, which was the fate of all, as we were well mounted, save a lad who stumbled and fell, and they hung him in sport for the sake of variety. They laughed till the tears stood in their eyes at his quaint grimaces."[21]
Brian did not seem to heed this pleasant story. Osric moved uneasily in his seat, but strove to repress feelings which, after all, were less troublesome than of yore; all at once he spied a sight which drove merchants and all from his mind.
"My lord, here is Alain."