"
The Abbot's smile turned to a frown at these frank words. "It
would become you better, sir, to deliver the message of which you
say that you are the bearer, than to uphold a prisoner against the
rightful judgment of a court."
The stranger swept the court with his questioning eye. "The
message is not for you, good father Abbot. It is for one whom I
know not. I have been to his house, and they have sent me hither.
The name is Nigel Loring."
"It is for me, fair sir."
"I had thought as much. I knew your father, Eustace Loring, and
though he would have made two of you, yet he has left his stamp
plain enough upon your face."
"You know not the truth of this matter," said the Abbot. "If you
are a loyal man, you will stand aside, for this young man hath
grievously offended against the law, and it is for the King's
lieges to give us their support."
"And you have haled him up for judgment," cried the stranger with
much amusement. "It is as though a rookery sat in judgment upon a
falcon. I warrant that you have found it easier to judge than to
punish. Let me tell you, father Abbot, that this standeth not
aright. When powers such as these were given to the like of you,
they were given that you might check a brawling underling or
correct a drunken woodman, and not that you might drag the best
blood in England to your bar and set your archers on him if he
questioned your findings.
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