And this is the oath of me, Sir Pertinax,
Knight of Shene, Lord of Westover, Framling, Bracton and Deepdene, to the
which oath may the Saints bend gracious ear, in especial Our Holy Lady of
Shene Chapel within the Wood--Amen!"
Having registered the which most solemn oath, Sir Pertinax arose, sheathed
his sword, and strode blithely towards the fair and prosperous town of
Canalise. But, being come within the gate, he was aware of much riot and
confusion in the square and streets beyond, and hasting forward, beheld a
wild concourse, a pushing, jostling throng of people making great clamour
and outcry, above which hubbub ever and anon rose such shouts, as:
"Murderer! Thief! Away with him! Death to him!"
By dint of sharp elbow and brawny shoulder our good knight forced himself a
way until--surrounded by men-at-arms, his limbs fast bound, his motley torn
and bloody, his battered fool's-cap all awry--he beheld Duke Jocelyn haled
and dragged along by fierce hands. For a moment Sir Pertinax stood dumb
with horror and amaze, then, roaring, clapped hand to sword.
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