His beard, streaked thickly with gray, bristled forward
from his chin, and spoke of a passionate nature, while the long,
finely cut face and firm mouth marked the leader of men. His
figure was erect and soldierly, and he rode his horse with the
careless grace of a man whose life had been spent in the saddle.
In common garb, his masterful face and flashing eye would have
marked him as one who was born to rule; but now, with his silken
tunic powdered with golden fleurs-de-lis, his velvet mantle lined
with the royal minever, and the lions of England stamped in
silver upon his harness, none could fail to recognize the noble
Edward, most warlike and powerful of all the long line of
fighting monarchs who had ruled the Anglo-Norman race. Alleyne
doffed hat and bowed head at the sight of him, but the serf
folded his hands and leaned them upon his cudgel, looking with
little love at the knot of nobles and knights-in-waiting who rode
behind the king.
"Ha!" cried Edward, reining up for an instant his powerful black
steed. "Le cerf est passe? Non? Ici, Brocas; tu parles Anglais.
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