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44 “Then,” Tavannes thundered, “will I nail you for a cross to the front of it! No cross, say you? I will make one of you, foul crow!”

And as he spoke, his arm shot out; the man recoiled, his fellow likewise. But one of the mounted archers took up the matter.

“Nay, but, my lord,” he said—he knew Tavannes—“it is the King’s will there be no favour shown to-night to any, small or great. And this house is registered, and is full of heretics.”

“And has no cross!” the rabble urged in chorus. And they leapt up and down in their impatience, and to see the better. “And has no cross!” they persisted. They could understand that. Of what use crosses, if they were not to kill where there was no cross? Daylight was not plainer.

Tavannes’ face grew dark, and he shook his finger at the archer who had spoken.

“Rogue,” he cried, “does the King’s will run here only? Are there no other houses to sack or men to kill, that you must beard me? And favour? You will have little of mine, if you do not budge and take your vile tail with you! Off! Or must I cry ‘Tavannes!’ and bid my people sweep you from the streets?”

The foremost rank hesitated, awed by his manner and his name; while the rearmost, attracted by the prospect of easier pillage, had gone off already. The rest wavered; and another and another broke away. The archer who had put himself forward saw which way the wind was blowing, and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, my lord, as you will,” he said sullenly. “All the same I would advise you to close the door and bolt and bar. We shall not be the last to call to-day.” And he turned his horse in ill-humour, and forced it, snorting and plunging, through the crowd.

“Bolt and bar?” Tavannes cried after him in fury.