Now, it was in those days that the abbot sent me on matters more heavy than I knew to that archbishop of whom I have already made mention, who, his state laid aside, lay in exile as a poor humble man, though Duke William’s uncle, in a small moat-house, by name Blanchelande, with little land attached beyond the forest of St. Pierre, and hard by the bay of the Saints of God.

Though I would fain haste to our meeting, yet must I first tell what manner of man he was reckoned by the folk of our island and by ourselves.  Abbot Michael had expressly charged us, on his first coming, we should believe nothing of aught we heard of him.  Yet tales went round, and gathered force as they went, ill tales that took scant time to travel; and we lads, innocent of mind, were full of shame for what was common talk, and we were ready to believe that here was no common sinner.  We knew there were witch women whom men justly burn for sin.  And of Archbishop Maugher men said a spirit of evil ever went with him, or was at his hand.

Now, when abbot Michael gave me the missive into my hand, there was a look in his face that seemed to ask if I feared the journey; but I took it readily and heartily, and turned to go.

“Stay,” said the abbot, as I went.  “Bring me word how my Lord Archbishop takes my letter, what he says, how he looks.  Bring me his slightest word, his least look.  Thou art quick and clever.  Do my bidding as a good lad should.  Thou hast naught to fear of such as he.”

So I went forth boldly, leaving the Vale behind me, and within an hour had entered among the trees that part it from the forest land.

Now, in due course of travel I reached that high point of the isle whence through the trees one can look down on all sides save the south, and see the blue waves and the distant islands, and there lay, I knew, the earthworks of an ancient fort, that the first tenants of the isle used for defence in days long past—­yea, and their wall of stone circled the space this way and that, and the roofless walls of some building—­a temple perhaps—­stood near, wherein they worshipped the false god of the sky or the hearth; here awhile I rested, and after brake again into the path, and made for the Bay of the Saints, where Maugher dwelt.

Now, I was not far upon my road when I heard a faint whistle through the trees, and, running back a few yards, I saw the old ruins I had left, not empty, as I had left them, but—­strange sight—­tenanted, I could see, by men, and, as I thought, men of evil aspect.  Now, I knew that they had seen me, and thought me well upon my road, so I dared not return; and, indeed, I feared in my heart, for I had little doubt they were pirates, if not spirits of the men of old of whom I had been dreaming.  Therefore I went swiftly on my path, and covered quite a mile ere I brake into the forest again, and made my way back to another side of that old ruined fort.  Now, as I crept up, I saw little that was strange—­only