“Hold!” cried the mysterious hermit; “I have promised him protection, nor shall the promise be foregone.”

“Thou!” cried the warrior, with unfeigned astonishment; “and who art thou that seemest here the arbiter of destiny, whether good or evil?”

“A sinful but heaven-destined man,” replied the hermit, meekly.

“Our vengeance slumbereth not,” said the chief; “the sentence is gone forth, and he dies ere sunset.”

“Not so,” replied the hermit, again assuming the attitude of command.

“By the beard of Hugh Lupus, he dieth.”

“He doth, but not by thy decree.”

“How! methinks the fever of disloyalty hath seized you all:  the infection hath so tainted your nature that a skilful leech, whom I employ in cases of emergency, will be of service—­my headsman, or hangman, as shall seem most fitting.  He dies, I tell thee, though the saints themselves were interceding.”

“I have promised,” said the hermit again, with the confidence of careless superiority.

Adam de Dutton, who had hitherto been waiting anxiously for an opportunity to communicate with his lord, now whispered something in his ear.

“How!” said the bewildered chieftain; “’tis said thou wearest the badge of our house, and art thyself under some surreptitious disguise.”

“I wear no disguise,” returned the hermit calmly; “what thou seest is my badge, and will be, Heaven permitting, until I die.”

“Who art thou?”

“A sinful mortal like thyself; but worn down with long vigils and maceration.  Lord of as wide inheritance as thou, and yet a tenant only in a narrow cell!”

“Thou speakest riddles;—­thy meaning?”

“I was an outcast, though heir to a vast heritage.  I vowed that if He, whose prerogative it is, would cleanse me from my stains, my life should thenceforth be His, and consecrate to Heaven.  I was a leper; but my prayer was heard.  I washed in yonder holy well which gushes from the rock, whose virtues had been reported to me.  Washing daily, with faith and prayer, I was healed.  I found close by a convenient hermitage; and many caverns and secret chambers, with hidden passages and communications, had been dug therefrom, by which I could pass to and fro, and thus visit the castle unseen.  I was the confessor and companion of Robert de Lacy.  At my desire, he left the whole of his domains to the Fitz-Eustace.  But thou art not the eldest-born of thy father.”

“My eldest brother has long been dead.  He was a leper; his cruel disease drove him from the haunts of men.  The last we knew of him, he went forth with cup and clapper as they are wont.  Soon after news arrived of his decease.”

“Was he not driven forth by rude and cruel taunts, the rather?” said the hermit, gazing with unaverted eye on the haughty chieftain.  “This noble birth and heritage are mine!  Behold, ’tis thus I repay your injustice!”

He threw off his cloak; underneath appeared a complete suit of proof armour, and a surcoat, on which was emblazoned the badge of the Fitz-Eustace.