BEATRIX OF CLARE
I
RUDDY TRESSES AND GREY EYES
Two archers stepped out into the path,—shafts notched and bows up.
"A word with your worship," said one.
The Knight whirled around.
"A word with your worship," greeted him from the rear.
He glanced quickly to each side.
"A word with your worship," met him there.
He shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the limb of a fallen tree. Resistance was quite useless, with no weapon save a dagger, and no armor but silk and velvet.