All eyes were now turned toward the entrance, with a look which I do not know how to describe, except by saying it was one of fierce expectation. At first the obscurity at the further side of the room prevented those who sat near the light from seeing who it was that entered; but a broad-chested, powerful man, wrapped in a crimson mantle, with a very large hood thrown back upon his shoulders, and on his head a plain brown barret cap with a heron's feather in it, advanced rapidly toward the table, inquiring, "Where is Actonville?"
His face was deadly pale, and even his lips had lost their color; but there was no emotion to be discovered by the movement of any feature. All was stern, and resolute, and keen.
"Here," said the man who had been sitting by the fire, rising as he spoke.
The other advanced close to him, and spoke something in a whisper. Actonville rejoined in the same low tone; and then the other answered, louder, "I have provided for all that. Thomas of Courthose will bear him a message from the king. Be quick; for he will soon be there."
"How got you the news, sir?" asked Actonville.
"By the fool, to be sure--by the fool!" replied the other. "It is all certain; though a fool told it."
"The moon must be up," said Actonville. "Were it not better to do it as he returns?"
"He will have many more with him," answered the man who had just entered; "and the moon is down."
"Oh, moon or no moon, many or few," exclaimed the man who had been sitting at the table, "let us about it at once. Brave men fear no numbers; and only dogs are scared by the moon." Some more conversation, brief, sharp, and eager, sometimes in whispers, sometimes aloud, occupied a space, perhaps, of three minutes, and then all was the bustle of preparation. Swords, axes, maces were taken up, and a few inquiries were made and answered.
"Are the horses all ready?" asked one.