John Falconer of Badger¹ Hill was too shrewd a gentleman to betray himself or his affairs to the lurkers whom John Rich had left in the woods to watch him. Falconer made no stir about the place, left his men working in the fields, and kept his own counsel.  
“If the dogs have been busy about here,” he said to himself, “we will give them no cause to hunt us. There are other parts of the Forest where men can muster² and march to help Mellis Dale.”
 
Yet he was much troubled about Mellis, and what might have happened at Woodmere in her absence. Roger Bland⁴’s men might have seized the place and made it a trap for her. John Falconer had no faith in any runaway⁵ monk⁶, even though he happened to be old Valliant’s son.
 
When night came he went quietly to the stable with a wallet full of food, saddled and bridled⁷ his horse, and rode out by the way of the pine woods. The moon would not be up for an hour; the woods were dark as a pit; he saw nothing of Rich’s men, nor did they see anything of him. When he was well away from Badger Hill, John Falconer tied up his horse and sat down to wait for the moon.
 
Old forester though he was, Falconer missed his way that night, and the sun had been up an hour before he reached the hills above Woodmere Vale. Martin Valliant had been up and stirring before the dawn, for love and his harness had left him but little sleep.
 
Mellis had taken the watch, and had bidden him unbuckle his harness and sleep in the upper room; but Martin had refused to take off his breast and back-plates, gorget and cuishes, lest Roger Bland’s men should try to steal into the place at night and catch him unprepared.
 
“When your friends rally here,” he had said, “then I can rest out of this iron skin.”
 
He was minded to better his footbridge, and broaden it with two lighter⁸ pieces of planking so that a horse could be brought across. His forethought proved prophetic, for when the first grayness of the dawn spread over the valley he saw three horses quietly cropping the grass not fifty yards from the bridge-head. One of them was Swartz’s roan; the others had been lost by the five men in the flurry of their flight.
 
Swartz’s roan seemed to be a companionable beast. He came down to the bridge-head, and stood there whinnying and watching Martin at his work. He was still saddled and bridled, as were his two comrades who went on cropping the grass.
 
Martin Valliant looked at Swartz’s horse as he had never looked at a horse before. The creature had a new meaning for him; it was no ambling⁹ pad, no fat palfrey, but a beast built to carry a man to battle, one of the strong things of the earth whose strength had to be mastered. Martin left his bridge-building for something more knightly¹⁰. He wanted to ride Swartz’s horse, to feel himself astride of that brown body, to know himself the creature’s master.
 
The roan seemed as ready as Martin Valliant. He was playful, full of zest¹¹, and went off at a canter directly Martin was in the saddle. But the man was the lord. He made the beast drop to a trot¹², and then worked him to a gallop¹³ over the dew-wet grasslands¹⁴ between the water and the woods.
 
So when John Falconer came to the edge of the beech¹⁵ wood he saw a young man in half armor galloping¹⁶ a horse furiously up and down the valley, and handling him like no novice¹⁷. Horse and man were in excellent temper, the one delighting in riding, the other in being ridden.
 
John Falconer kept himself in the shade, and looked down on Woodmere. He noticed the two horses feeding by the mere³, that the bridge was down and the gate open, and for the moment he had good cause to fear that the Lord of Troy’s men had taken the place, and that this galloper¹⁸ on the horse was one of them. Then he saw a woman appear on the leads of the tower, and knew her to be Mellis.
 
She watched Martin Valliant and the roan horse, and waved a hand to him as he came cantering back from the lower end of the valley. Falconer tugged¹⁹ at his beard with thumb and forefinger²⁰.
 
“So this is our outlaw²¹ monk! The fellow has learned to sit a horse.”
 
He rode out from the beech wood, and the two horses converged²² upon the bridge, Martin feeling for his sword and calling himself a fool for galloping about unarmed, with the bridge down and the gate open.
 
He saw Mellis waving a scarf at the new-comer, and guessed that all was well. Falconer had reined²³ in by the bridge-head and was waiting for the man on the roan horse. The master of Badger Hill had a shrewd eye for the shape of a man, the color of his eyes, and the set of his head. He could look inwards, judge without favor; and though he had no desire to be pleased, Martin Valliant pleased him.
 
These two men stared into each other’s eyes with a certain searching and haughty²⁴ curiosity.
 
“So this is Roger Valliant’s son? You are overtrustful, young man, to go galloping up and down with that gate open. Had I been an enemy, I could have put a shaft²⁵ into you.”
 
Martin flushed.
 
“I have called myself a fool for it,&rdq............