coming down all asprawl among the heather. 'Right under the blade bone!' quoth the archer, sauntering forward for his arrow.
'The old hound is the best when all is said,' quoth the Bailiff of Southampton, as they made back for the roadway. 'That means a quart of the best malmsey in Southampton this very night, Matthew Atwood. Art sure that he is dead?'
'Dead as Pontius Pilate, worshipful sir.'
'It is well. Now, as to the other knave. There are trees and to spare over yonder, but we have scarce leisure to make for them. Draw thy sword, Thomas of Redbridge, and hew me his head from his shoulders.'
'A boon, gracious sir, a boon!' cried the condemned man.
'What then?' asked the bailiff.
'I will confess to my crime. It was indeed I and the black cook, both from the ship "La Rose de Gloire," of Southampton, who did set upon the Flanders merchant and rob him of his spicery and his mercery, for which, as we well know, you hold a warrant against us.'
'There is little merit in this confession,' quoth the bailiff sternly. 'Thou hast done evil within my bailiwick, and must die.'
'But, sir,' urged Alleyne, who was white to the lips at these bloody doings, 'he hath not yet come to trial.'
'Young clerk,' said the bailiff, 'you speak of that of which you know nothing. It is true that he hath not come to trial, but the trial hath come to him. He hath fled the law and is beyond its pale. Touch not that which is no concern of thine. But what is this boon, rogue, which you would crave?'
'I have in my shoe, most worshipful sir, a strip of wood which belonged once to the bark wherein the blessed Paul was dashed up against the island of Melita. I bought it for two rose nobles from a shipman who came from the Levant. The boon I crave is that you will place it in my hands and let me die still grasping it. In this manner, not only shall my
