"I have heard his name, as that of a noted raider across the border," the monk said; "a fierce man, and a bold one. Has he regard for the church? If so, I would gladly take up my abode there, for a day or two; for in truth I am wearied out, it being some years since my feet have carried me so long a journey."
"As to that, I say nothing," the host said. "It would depend on his humour whether he took you in, or shut the gates in your face without ceremony; but methinks, at present, the latter were more likely than the former; for his hold is full of armed men, and I should say it were wisest to leave him alone, even if you had but the bare moor to sleep upon."
"Nevertheless, I can but try," the monk said. "He may be in one of those good tempers you spoke of. And I suppose he has also a priest, in his fortalice?"
"Ay, the Bairds are not--but I would rather not talk of them. They are near neighbours, and among my very best customers."
As he spoke, four armed men came in at the door.
"Good day, Wilson! Whom have you here? An ill-assorted couple, surely. A monk, though a somewhat rough one, and a man-at-arms."
"Fellow travellers of a day," Roger said calmly. "We met on the road, and as I love not solitude, having enough and to spare of it, I accosted him. He turned out a good companion."
"You are a man of sinew yourself, monk, and methinks that you would have made a better soldier than a shaveling."
"I thought so sometime, myself," the monk said; "but my parents thought otherwise, and it is too late to take up another vocation, now."
"Is that staff yours?" the soldier asked, taking it up, and handling it.