“Ye need go no longer in that fear,” cried Gaston, with a kindling of the eyes, as he bared his noble head and looked forth at the old man with his fearless glance, “for in me ye will find a master whom none need fear who do their duty by him and by the King.  Seneschal, I stand here the lawful Lord of Saut —­ lord by hereditary right, and by the mandate of England’s King, the Roy Outremer, as you call him.  I am Gaston de Brocas, of the old race who owned these lands long before the false Navailles had set foot therein.  I have come back armed with the King’s warrant to claim mine own.

“Say, men, will ye have me for your lord? or will ye continue to serve yon raging madman till England’s King sends an army to raze Saut to the ground, and slay the rebellious horde within these ancient walls?”

Gaston had raised his voice as he had gone on speaking, for he saw that the dialogue with the old seneschal had attracted the attention of a number of men-at-arms, who had gradually mustered about the gate to hear what was passing.

Gaston spoke his native dialect like one of themselves.  The name of De Brocas was known far and wide in that land, and was everywhere spoken with affection and respect.  The fierce rapacity of the Navailles was equally feared and hated.  Even the stout soldiers who had followed his fortunes so long regarded him with fear and distrust.  No man in those days felt certain of his life.  If he chanced to offend the madman, a savage blow from that strong arm might fell him to the earth; whilst some amongst their companions had from time to time mysteriously disappeared, and their fate had never been disclosed.

A sense of fearfulness and uncertainty had long reigned at Saut.  The mad master had his own myrmidons in the Tower, who would do his bidding whatever that bidding might be; and that there were dark secrets hidden away in those underground dungeons and secret chambers everybody in the Castle well knew.  Hardly one of the men now gathered on the opposite side of the moat but had awakened at some time or other from a horrid dream, believing himself to have been spirited down into those gloomy subterranean places, there to expiate some trifling offence, according as their savage lord should give order.  Many of these men had assisted at scenes which seemed frightful to them when they pictured themselves the victims of the cruelty of the fierce man they had long served, but whom now they had grown to fear and distrust.

A sense of horror had long been hanging over Saut, and since the disappearance of the maiden who once had brightened the grim place by her presence, this horror had perceptibly deepened.  Not one of all the men-at-arms dared even to his fellow to propose the remedy.  Each feared that if he breathed what was in his own mind, the very walls would whisper it in the ears of their lord, and that the offender would be doomed to some horrible death, to act as a warning to others like-minded with himself.