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get.”
    “If you even think he’s all right,” I commented, “that puts him way ahead of Chilbert. Why don’t you throw in with him?”
    “I’m not throwing in with anybody yet,” he said flatly. “I’m waiting to see who is strong.”
    “You mean to say you’ll let a swipe like Chilbert seize more power when you might be able to check him by joining with a better man?”
    He flushed, but his glance remained steady. “I’d like to see a good man rise to the top, but my first job is to look after the abbey.”
    “I suppose so.” To my surprise I felt partisan about the matter and a little disappointed in this man, who had made quite an impression on me. Though God knows it wasn’t my habit to pass judgment on moral issues.
    He guessed what I was thinking and took me up on it. “There are two ways of looking at such a matter. Perhaps if I were a saint I’d fight blindly for universal good, even if I were convinced that nothing would be gained by my efforts. Being a lesser thing, I prefer to struggle for only the limited good that I believe is within my power to bring to fruition.” He drew into himself a moment before he concluded. “There is a chance that even a saint might think something is better than nothing.”
    “Very likely,” I conceded. He was doing his best in difficult times, and I was sorry I had been critical. “Just the same, I’m glad I won’t be here when Chilbert’s kingdom comes.”
    “You know from what I have told you,” he said after another pause, “that I’m not anxious for him to succeed. Nor is it inevitable that he shall do so.” He was looking at me earnestly, and I knew by his next remark that he had taken due note of the sword scar on my left cheek. “You’re used to weapons, and you seem to nourish a strong feeling against the count yourself. Conan can use and will, I believe, reward experienced men.”
    So that was what he had been driving at! “And if he gets enough of them,” once again I couldn’t repress the slight taunt, “you might feel justified in being his ally.”
    “Exactly. Well?”
    “No, Father. It isn’t my affair.”

Chapter
  Four
    A FTER a farewell salute to Father Clovis I headed north again early the next morning, having learned I had still some ways to go before I could make easting. Once I had ridden through the abbey’s fields the forest closed in again, and I saw no more signs of habitation. The sky, mostly clear when I started, was overcast before noon with steadily thickening clouds. Smelling the air, though, I decided that it wouldn’t rain for some hours, possibly not until night. That was considerate of the weather, because there was supposed to be a town of sorts up the line which I should have no difficulty in reaching by mid-afternoon.
    I had dismounted to drink at a spring when I first heard them coming. All morning I had met nobody except a lone woodcutter, but these were riding men—several, to judge by the sounds and voices. Having no reason to anticipate trouble with anyone coming from the north, I wasn’t especially concerned. None the less, I climbed on the bay and got off the road west, where there chanced to be less undergrowth. Thus I was still in sight but had comfortable room for maneuvering in case of need.
    There were five of them, all well armed. The leader was somewhere in his thirties, a medium-sized man with black hair above a jolly, bearded face. Talking busily, he didn’t see me until he was all but abreast of me. Then at his command they all halted and put their eyes over me. I had nothing to say.
    “You’re a stranger in these parts,” the leader announced. “Yes,” I said pleasantly, “and one whose only interest in these parts is to get out of them.”
    His face was no longer jovial. “You’re a liar!”
    That was rude, but I wasn’t going to do anything about it when he had four men with him. I waited.
    “You’re one of Chilbert’s men,” was his next accusation.
    I thought the