The roof was poor and thatched;
but in strange contrast to it there ran all along under the eaves
a line of wooden shields, most gorgeously painted with chevron,
bend, and saltire, and every heraldic device. By the door a
horse stood tethered, the ruddy glow beating strongly upon his
brown head and patient eyes, while his body stood back in the
shadow.
Alleyne stood still in the roadway for a few minutes reflecting
upon what he should do. It was, he knew, only a few miles
further to Minstead, where his brother dwelt. On the other hand,
he had never seen this brother since childhood, and the reports
which had come to his ears concerning him were seldom to his
advantage. By all accounts he was a hard and a bitter man.
It might be an evil start to come to his door so late and claim
the shelter of his roof. Better to sleep here at this inn, and
then travel on to Minstead in the morning. If his brother would
take him in, well and good.
He would bide with him for a time and do what he might to serve
him. If, on the other hand, he should have hardened his heart
against him, he could only go on his way and do the best he might
by his skill as a craftsman and a scrivener.
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