She looked at him meaningly.
“Turn your back to no bush.”
“So!”
“A vest of ring mail under a doublet may turn a knife or an arrow.”
He stood a moment, and then went out from before her thoughtfully, without uttering a word.
Father Merlin overtook the Polecat where the heathland sloped down towards the White Lodge valley. The beggar stood to one side and made the friar a reverence, his red eyes twinkling under the edge of his hood.
“A blessing, holy father.”
Merlin stopped and blessed him as though he had never set eyes on the man before.
“How runs the road, my son?”
“Down yonder, father, stands a goodly house, and Fulk of the Forest dwells therein.”