“But you see they did not know, and all was fish that came to their nets.  Martin, don’t thou ever think of them.”

“Hubert, thou hadst better go, and come back presently,” whispered the chaplain, who felt that there were certain circumstances of which the boy might be better left ignorant, which nearly concerned his companion.

“Nay,” said Martin, ’there are no secrets between us.  He knows mine.  I know his.”

“But no one else, I trust,” said the earl, who remembered a certain prohibition.

“No, my lord, only Hubert.  He already knew so much, I was forced to tell him all.”

“Then thou hast not forgotten thy kindred in the greenwood?”

“I can never forget my poor mother.”

“Thou hast already told me all that thou dost know, and that thy fathers once owned Michelham.”

“So the outlaws said, the merrie men of the wood.  Oh if my father had but lived.”

“He would have made thee an outlaw, too.”

“It might well have been, but my poor mother would have been happy then.”

“But I think Martin has a scheme in his head,” said Hubert shyly.

“What is it, my son?” said the earl.

“The chaplain knows.”

“He thinks that when he has put on the cord of Saint Francis he will go and preach the Gospel to them that are afar off in the woods.”

“But they are Christians, I hope.”

“Nominally, but they know nought of the Gospel of love and peace.  Their religion is limited to a few outward observances,” said the chaplain, “which, separated from the living Spirit, only fulfil the words:  ‘The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.’”

“Ah, well, my boy, God speed thee on thy path, and preserve thee for that day when thou shalt come as a messenger of peace to them that sit in darkness,” said the earl.

“Thine,” he continued, ’is a far nobler ambition than that of the warrior, thine the task to save, his to destroy.

“What sayest thou, Hubert?”

“I would fain be a soldier of the Cross, like my father, and cut down the Paynim.”

“Like a godly knight I once knew, who, called upon to convert a Saracen, said the Creed and told him he was to believe it.  The Saracen, as one might have expected, uttered some words of scorn, and the good knight straight-way clove him to the chine.”

“It was short and simple, my lord; I should like to convert them that way best.”

The chaplain sighed.

“Oh, Hubert!” said Martin.

The earl listened and smiled a sad smile.

“Well, there is work for you both.  Mine is not yet done in the busy fighting world; rivers of blood have I seen shed, nay, helped to shed, and I must answer to God for the way in which I have played my part; yet I thank Him that He did not disdain to call one whose career lay in like bloody paths ‘the man after His own heart.’”

“It is lawful to draw sword in a good cause, my lord,” said the chaplain.