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“Since the iron is hot in your parts, sire,” ran the Earl’s message, “I send you a hammer for your anvil. God keep the King.”

Peter of Savoy had laughed at the message, and thrown a jewel into Etoile’s lap.

“The book tells us that we should go a-hunting,” he had said. “We will send for the Gascon back again. There are lusty rebels to be pulled down when the King’s need is paramount.”

Etoile had laughed in turn, with a gleam of black eyes and of white teeth.

“Let our horns blow, sire, I too will ride with you.”

“A bolt in time saves twine,” quoth her man.

When Gaillard returned that morning, and Peter of Savoy heard the news of Dan Barnabo’s death, and the way the mesne lords had called out their men, he smiled at Gaillard very grimly, and twitted him with the little that he had done.

“You are clever at lighting bonfires, my Gascon,” he said. “But singeing the bear makes him only madder. We have no need of our clerks and lawyers, for when such work is afoot we can shut justiciar, coroner, and sheriff up in the same box. Will any man tell me that I have no right of private war in my own manors. The King is defied! Go to now, we have our warrant.”