"The Disinherited Knight," said Gurth.

"Whose good lance," replied the robber, "won the prize in to-day's

tourney? What is his name and lineage?"

"It is his pleasure," answered Gurth, "that they be concealed; and from

me, assuredly, you will learn nought of them."

"What is thine own name and lineage?"

"To tell that," said Gurth, "might reveal my master's."

"Thou art a saucy groom," said the robber, "but of that anon. How comes

thy master by this gold? is it of his inheritance, or by what means hath

it accrued to him?"

"By his good lance," answered Gurth.--"These bags contain the ransom of

four good horses, and four good suits of armour."

"How much is there?" demanded the robber.

"Two hundred zecchins."

"Only two hundred zecchins!" said the bandit; "your master hath dealt

liberally by the vanquished, and put them to a cheap ransom. Name those

who paid the gold."

Gurth did so.

"The armour and horse of the Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert, at what

ransom were they held?--Thou seest thou canst not deceive me."

"My master," replied Gurth, "will take nought from the Templar save

his life's-blood. They are on terms of mortal defiance, and cannot hold

courteous intercourse together."

"Indeed!"--repeated the robber, and paused after he had said the

word. "And what wert thou now doing at Ashby with such a charge in thy

custody?"

"I went thither to render to Isaac the Jew of York," replied Gurth,

"the price of a suit of armour with which he fitted my master for this

tournament."

"And how much didst thou pay to Isaac?--Methinks, to judge by weight,

there is still two hundred zecchins in this pouch."

"I paid to Isaac," said the Saxon, "eighty zecchins, and he restored me

a hundred in lieu thereof."

"How! what!" exclaimed all the robbers at once; "darest thou trifle with

us, that thou tellest such improbable lies?"

"What I tell you," said Gurth, "is as true as the moon is in heaven. You

will find the just sum in a silken purse within the leathern pouch, and

separate from the rest of the gold."

"Bethink thee, man," said the Captain, "thou speakest of a Jew--of an

Israelite,--as unapt to restore gold, as the dry sand of his deserts to

return the cup of water which the pilgrim spills upon them."




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