‘Open! open!’ shouted Ralf.  ‘Open, in the name of King Henry!’

An old man’s face peeped through a little wicket in the door, and at sight of the two youths, evidently of high rank, said in a trembling voice, ’Alas! alas!  Sir, bid these cruel men go away.  I have nothing here—­no one—­only my sick daughter.’

‘You hear,’ said Malcolm, turning round; ‘only his sick daughter.’

’Sick daughter!—­old liar!  Here’s an honest tinker makes oath he has hoards of gold laid up for Vaurus, and ten Armagnacs hidden in his house.  Have at him!  Bring fire!’

Blows hailed thick on the door; a flaming torch was handed over the heads of the throng; horrible growls and roars pervaded them.  Malcolm and Ralf, furious at the cheat, stood among the foremost, making so much noise themselves between thundering and reviling, and calling out, ’Where are the Armagnacs?  Down with the traitors!’ that they were not aware of a sudden hush behind them, till a buffet from a heavy hand fell on Malcolm’s shoulder, and a mighty voice cried ’Shame! shame!  What, you too!’

‘There are traitors hid here, Sir,’ said Percy, in angry self-justification.

’And what an if there are?  Back, every one of you! rogues that you be!—­Here, Fitzhugh, see those villains back to the camp.  Let their arms be given up to the Provost-marshal.—­Kites and crows as you are!  Away, out with you!’

Henry pointed to the broken door, and the cowed and abashed soldiers slunk away from the terrible light of his eyes.  No man could stand before the face of the King.

There was a stillness.  He stood leaning on his sword, his chest heaving with his panting breaths.  He was naturally as fleet as the swift-footed Achilles, but the winter had told upon him, and the haste with which he had rushed to the rescue left him breathless and speechless, while he seemed as it were to nail the two lads to the spot by his steady gaze of mingled distress and displeasure.

Neither could brook his eye:  Percy hung his head like a boy in a scrape; Malcolm quailed with terror, but at the same time felt a keen sense of injury in being thus treated as a plunderer, and the blow under which his shoulder ached seemed an indignity to his royal blood.

‘Boys,’ said Henry, still low and breathlesly, but all the more impressively, ’what is to become of honour and mercy if such as you must needs become ravening wolves at scent of booty?’

‘It was not booty, Sir; they said traitors were hid here,’ said Percy, sulkily.

’Tush! the old story!  Ever the plea for rapine and bloodthirstiness.  After the warnings of last night you should have known better; but you are all alike in frenzy for a sack.  You have both put off your knighthood till you have learnt not to become a shame thereto.’

‘I take not knighthood at your hands, Sir,’ burst out Malcolm, goaded with hot resentment, but startled the next moment at the sound of his own words.