His harness would be
little use to you. No, fair son, I rede you that when the time
comes you sell this crumbling house and the few acres which are
still left, and so go forth to the wars in the hope that with your
own right hand you will plant the fortunes of a new house of
Loring."
A shadow of anger passed over Nigel's fresh young face. "I know
not if we may hold off these monks and their lawyers much longer.
This very day there came a man from Guildford with claims from the
Abbey extending back before my father's death."
"Where are they, fair son?"
"They are flapping on the furze-bushes of Hankley, for I sent his
papers and parchments down wind as fast as ever falcon flew."
"Nay! you were mad to do that, Nigel. And the man, where is he?"
"Red Swire and old George the archer threw him into the Thursley
bog."
"Alas! I fear me such things cannot be done in these days, though
my father or my husband would have sent the rascal back to
Guildford without his ears. But the Church and the Law are too
strong now for us who are of gentler blood. Trouble will come of
it, Nigel, for the Abbot of Waverley is not one who will hold back
the shield of the Church from those who are her servants."
"The Abbot would not hurt us. It is that gray lean wolf of a
sacrist who hungers for our land. Let him do his worst. I fear
him not."
"He has such an engine at his back, Nigel, that even the bravest
must fear him.
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