"Let no one except you touch the gray," Hal cautioned the groom. He set off after the servant, carrying Corin.

Arundel's knees trembled, and his fine head hung almost to the cobblestones. But Alfie sank to the ground, where he lay flat on his side. Alan groaned, torn between Alfie and Corin; then he ran after Hal.

A doorkeeper gave them entry into a stone chamber. The inner walls were completely hung with rich tapestries.

In the center of the room, in an intricately carved chair, sat a dark, fierce-looking man dressed in thick velvets. He glanced at them as they entered, saw the limp bundle in Hal's arms and at once strode across the room to them, leaving the man with whom he was talking. He laid his hand on Corin's burning forehead, looked at their haggard faces and clapped his hands loudly. Several servants came running.

"Call Bleys at once," he ordered. "Prepare rooms and food for these gentlemen, and whatever they need.

Hurryl" As the servants disappeared, he turned to Hal and Alan. "Bleys is as fine a physician as can be found north of Nemeton. If he cannot help the lad, then he is beyond mortal aid. I am anxious to know your story, but I shall wait until your needs are seen to. I shall speak with you later."

"A thousand thanks, my lord," said Hal quietly.

"Here is Bleys now. May all good come to the lad."

I.

The Forest 67 Lord Roran went back to his seat as they followed the healer out of the room.

Bleys was an old man, gray-bearded but still hale of body and clear of eye. He took them to a large chamber where servants were busy building a fire and piling linens on a large bed. A tub was brought and filled with warm water, and Corin was tenderly bathed, then laid in the bed and dosed with warm milk and medicine. After that there was nothing to do but moisten bis burning face with a cool cloth, give drink from time to time and wait As soon as he saw Corin cared for, Alan slipped away to the stables.

He found Alfie lying on a thick bed of straw in a roomy stall. He had been nibbed dry and warmly covered.

Arundel was in the next stall, also lying down, and he whinnied at Alan cheerfully enough. But Alfie lay with- out raising his head, and his whole body was tense with pain. Alan sank into the straw and took the horse's head on his lap, and Alfie nuzzled his hand.

Without warning, tears began rolling down Alan's cheeks, as he clutched the horse's neck and begged him, "Don't diel I need you. . . ." He knew that if Alfie died he would never forgive himself, even though it was for Corin's sake. For a long time he hugged and patted his horse, stroking the lean neck, telling him what a very good horse he was, who galloped so bravely night and day, and who hadn't needed a tether in over a month now, and who never ran away anymore. "Alfie the Great- Hearted," be said. "That's what we'll call you."

After a while he left the stables and headed back to- ward Corin's room. The tears still lay wet on his face, and many people stared at him, but he was beyond em- barrassment. As he strode through the keep. Lord Roran of Firth entered the corridor and stopped in concern when he saw him.

"Is the news bad?"

"Nay, my lord. The boy was still the same when I left him. I have been to see my horse. . . ," For a moment Alan could not go on. "Pardon, my lord," he said finally.

"For three days and nights I have not slept, and I begin to act foolishly. The horse is nearly dead from galloping, and it grieves me."

"How far have you ridden?" asked Lord Roran gently.

68 THE SILVER SUN.

Alan told him. "Four days ago we were at the place where the Forest meets the sea."

Lord Roran whistled. "He must be no ordinary horse,**

"Nay, my lord," answered Alan, then had to cover his face with his hands. Hal looked out of Corin's doorway, came and put his arms around him.

"Is Alfie dead?"

Alan shook his head. "Nay," he managed to say, "but likely to be." He stood breathing deeply, trying to calm himself.

"He will not die," said Hal with conviction. "He is far too stubborn. If only I could say the same for the lad."

"How is the boy?" asked Lord Roran.

"The same. There is nothing to do now but wait."

"Then come with me," said Lord Roran firmly, '^ou both need rest and nourishment. Your dinner awaits you."

"With your leave," Hal said, "I shall go to the stables first."

His Lordship nodded, and he and Alan went on. "I do not yet know your name," he said.

Alan told him.

"And your brother?"

"His name is Hal." Alan paused. "You called him my brother, and indeed in a manner of speaking he is, but not by birth."

"By the tides, I felt sure he was your brother. And Corin, is he no relationship to either of you?"

"None. We found him Just four days ago.**

"You found him? How is that?"

They came to a warm room with two beds, where a variety of food was set out on a small table. As they sat, Alan told briefly of Corin's rescue.

'The filth!" Lord Roran muttered as Alan told of the kingsmen. "The black-cloaked, dirty-handed, mother- hating filth!" He pounded the table with his fist, and his face flushed an angry red- As Alan continued, his expres- sion turned from rage to astonishment.

"The two of you killed six kingsmen?" he exclaimed.

"Even so." Alan was too tired to think of taking offense.

"But how?"

"We surprised them, and two of them we took off at once. . . . Then Corin got loose somehow, and got ahold of a sword, and stabbed a villain in the knee even before

The Forest 69

he was able to get up. Hal whistled for the horses, and they helped us dispatch the rest."

"Remarkable horses," Lord Roran murmured in be- wilderment. Obviously Alan was too wrung out to be bragging or lying. Roran listened in stunned silence to Alan's account of their four-day ride.

"Then Corin's sickness is as much one of the heart as of the body," he said at last.

"Ay. He thinks his father died on his account"

Hal joined them, and in answer to Alan's worried glance he only shrugged: Alfie was still the same. The lord of Firth dished out the meal. There were excellent soups, wheat bread, jellies and cold meats. In politeness Hal and Alan tasted everything, but they ate little.

"Will you sleep now?" asked Lord Roran when they were finished. "This is your room, but I shall have cots set up for you near Corin if you would prefer."

That was done, but they could not sleep. Restlessly they divided their time between Corin's bedside and the stable, pacing through the long afternoon. Alfie remained on his side in the straw, scarcely moving, cramped with exhaus- tion. Corin grew weaker and more wasted, his tongue parched and his face burning to the touch. He seemed scracely to breathe, and a dozen times they feared that he was already dead.

At dusk Lord Reran came in, and with him a lad about Corin's size, but as dark and hawklike as himself. It was Roran's son, Robin. They looked at Corin with pity in their eyes, and BIeys flung wide his hands in a gesture of despair.

"He need not die," the healer said. "He came to me soon enough, and took the medicine well. But he is sunk in his grief, and remembers no joy in his life."

In the reaches of Hal's mind a spark of hope flickered.