"Yet he was ill spared by us a youth of much promise. Did he not ask to be allowed to take the vows of chastity and obedience?"
"Nay, Father."
"What, then, is in thy mind with regard to his up-bringing?"
"But two days agone he did ask to go with me to the wars."
"Alas! Alack!" groaned the Abbot, speaking half to his visitor, half to himself. "To think that one brought up in the sanctity of this place should have a mind for the horror of war! It but shows that men's minds are by nature inclined to strife, and that we must ever be subduing the desires of malice and hatred, which, though dormant for years, are too often ready to burst forth with renewed strength. Ah me! And I did think Raymond was a brand plucked from the burning. Thinkst thou that 'tis not too late to turn him from his purpose and bring him into the brotherhood?"
"Father," replied the master-bowman earnestly, "many a time have I pondered the matter over in my heart, for he is very dear to me. In my wanderings I knew him to be in safe keeping in this peaceful place, yet I look to my son as a tried companion of my old age, for I have no other kith or kin in the world. To the wars he would go, yet Heaven forfend that ill should happen to him."
"But if he wish to stay?"
"Then he may do so, though as a monk he will be as far from me as ever."
"Then he shall be asked, my son. Should he remain with us the Order profiteth; should he go Franceward, then the saints be with him and bring him safely home again. But, I ask," he added, fixing his dark eyes intently on the archer, "when Raymond left us didst thou fetch him away?"
"Nay, Father, I——"