“I have heard of you, I believe—the fellow who spoils parchment. This is odd company, however, Messire Osmund, for Brudenel’s brother.”

“A gentleman must serve his Queen, messire. As Cicero very justly observes—”

“I am inclined to think that his political opinions are scarcely to our immediate purpose. This is a high matter, Messire Heleigh. To let the sorceress pass is, of course, out of the question; upon the other hand, I observe that you lack weapons of defence. Yet if you will have the kindness to assist me in unarming, your courtesy will place our commerce on more equal footing.”

Osmund had turned very white. “I am no swordsman, messire—”

“Now, this is not handsome of you,” Camoys began. “I warn you that people will speak harshly of us if we los. . . Read More