"There is hardly time," said the elder monk. "See, here comes a larger body of archers from the side of Blangy, and I can catch lance heads and banners rising up by Azincourt. The bloody work will soon begin."
"I would fain try, at all events," cried the other. "Man, wilt thou let me have a horse? I will bring him back to thee in half an hour, if ever I come back alive myself."
"Take him, take him," answered the other. "I am not the man to stop you. How could I resist two monks and three horses. Not the destrier--not the battle-horse. That is my lord's. Here, take the page's. Let me help thee on, father. Thou art so fat in the nether end that thou wilt never get up without a ladder. One time I was as bad a horseman as thyself, and so I have compassion on thy foibles. Have thou some upon mine."
The monk was soon settled in the saddle, and away he went down the hill, showing himself a better horseman, when once mounted, than the other had given him credit for.
As soon as he was gone, the elder monk fixed his eyes once more upon his companion, and said, in a low voice, "Have I not seen thee somewhere before?"
"I can't tell," answered the other. "I have seen you, I fancy; but if so, you gave no sign of seeing me, either by word or look. However, I am Martin Grille, the valet of the good Baron de Brecy. Perhaps that may give your memory a step to climb upon."
"It needs no step," answered the other. "I am all memory. Would to God I were not."
"Ay, now you look more as you did then, though not half so mad either," said Martin Grille. "You are older, too, and your cowl makes a difference."
"And there is a difference," replied the monk, in a tone of deep sadness. "Penitence and prayer, remorse and anguish--sated revenge, perhaps--a thirst assuaged--a thirst such as no desert traveler ever knew, quenched in blood and tears; all these have changed me. The fire has gone out. I am nothing but the ashes of my former self."
"Rather hot ashes, even yet," answered Martin Grille, "if I may judge by what you said about my cowardice just now. But look, look, good father. What will become of our fat brother there? Why he is riding right before that strong body of lances coming up from Blangy."