"Out on thee for an arrant cheat! Give thy plan and name the price."
Slowly and deliberately, his voice hardly above a whisper, the Breton replied: "Did it ever occur to thy noble self that the dress of a leper would make the best protection?"
Redward recoiled, in spite of his hardened nerves, for sufferers from that loathsome and incurable disease were far from rare in Western Europe in those days. In France they were compelled by law to wear long grey gowns and hoods, and to carry a "barillet," or rattle, to give due warning of their approach. Under severe penalties they were forbidden to remain in the larger cities and towns, or to beg or use their rattle for the purpose of exciting pity. Thus it was common to see them wandering over the countryside in pairs, their approach being the signal for other wayfarers to pass them at a safe distance.[1]
"But the dress?" asked Redward.
"That is easily to be had. I have a stock of them in this house. And the price——"
"They have not been used?" interrupted the master-bowman anxiously.
"Certainly not, monsieur," replied the barber, with a hideous leer. "'Twould be impossible. But the price I ask—and they be of good quality—is but one livre, five sols—quite a small sum for a wealthy gentleman like monsieur!"
At that moment a loud rapping was heard. The squire and his father sprang up, and, suspecting danger, their hands flew to their sword-hilts.
With a motion of his hand, their host indicated that they should hide behind a heavy curtain; then, taking a torch from its socket, he made towards the door.
After considerable parleying the nocturnal visitor was admitted, and, through a small hole in the mouldy curtain, Redward could see him without risk. That he was a man of quality was apparent by the long furred gown he wore; and further, by the length of the garment and its rich violet colour, and the mortier or silk cap, ornamented with Valenciennes lace, worn instead of the hat affected by the bourgeois, his rank was of importance.