They were now but a short distance from their destination; but they had hardly started on their journey through the forest next morning, when an adventure befell them which filled Nigel with the wildest hopes.
Along the narrow winding path between the great oak trees there rode a dark sallow man in a scarlet tabard who blew so loudly upon a silver trumpet that they heard the clanging call long before they set eyes on him. Slowly he advanced, pulling up every fifty paces to make the forest ring with another warlike blast. The comrades rode forward to meet him.
“ I pray you,” said Nigel, “to tell me who you are and why you blow upon this trumpet.”
The fellow shook his head, so Nigel repeated the question in French, the common language of chivalry, spoken at that age by every gentleman i
