“By St. Luke! strong enough to ride to Land’s End if need be to strike a blow for Beatrix,”—­smiting the table with his fist.

“Then together be it, and welcome.  Here is to the Countess and her rescue ere the morrow’s sun go down!” and he filled two goblets with wine.

“And death and confusion to her captors,” Sir John echoed, raising high his glass.

Clad in full mail and followed by threescore men-at-arms and as many archers the two Knights set out from Pontefract the following morning.  After due discussion they had determined that the time for cautious indirection was passed and that there would be no quibbling with the Abbot of Kirkstall.  He would be called upon to produce the Countess or to disclose where she was hidden, as well as to confess all that he knew concerning the abduction.  They were not in a mood to argue or to be trifled with; and ill would it be for Aldam if he tried evasion or grew stubborn.

And that they came in spirit scarce pacific was declared by their first act when the Abbey was reached.  With the haft of his battle-axe De Lacy struck the outer gate a resounding blow; and getting no prompt response, followed it with a second that rang among the buildings and corridors within.  Straightway there came the shuffle of sandaled feet and a fumbling at the wicket, which opening slowly, disclosed the rotund face and heavy, sleepy eyes of Father Ambrose.

“Well! what means this unseemly bluster?” he began. . . .  “Your lordships’ pardon—­I will open instantly,” and hurried to remove the bars.

“We seek speech with the Lord Abbot,” said De Lacy, halting beside the lodge, while the soldiers filed into the courtyard and drew into line at the farther side.

The monk watched this proceeding with blank surprise.

“Hear you not?” Aymer demanded sharply, letting his mailed hand fall heavily on the other’s shoulder.  “We seek the Abbot.”

Father Ambrose shrank back in amaze at the tones and action.

“His reverence is engaged at present in a session of the Chapter,” he faltered.

“Good—­we will interrogate him there,” Aymer answered; and Sir John and he galloped across to the church and dismounted.

In the Chapter-house, the brothers, both ecclesiastical and lay, were assembled in convocation.  On the dais, in the recess at one side of the hall, sat the Abbot in his great carved chair of state.  He was leaning slightly forward, chin on hand, regarding with calm and critical scrutiny the faces of the white-robed throng below him.  And the monks, crowded on their narrow oaken benches, felt the stern eyes upon them and grew restless; for none knew how soon he might be called forward for rebuke before them all.  And Aldam did not spare words when he administered his corrections; and not one of the Cistercians but would have chosen the heaviest task of the fields for four and twenty hours in preference to a single minute’s lashing by his biting tongue.