"You must make shift, then, to let me know every month how the King fares. When he takes to his bed, I must come to Nemeton. But how is this to be done?"

The Darfe Tower 185

She thought awhile. "I cannot do it myself," she said at last. "To leave the castle often is to invite suspicion.

But there are others who remember you. I believe Tod, the master of hounds, will serve. Once every fortnight, or month at the longest, he takes the dogs out to the wealds, to romp and roll and stretch their muscles."

'That will do admirably," Hal agreed. "Tell him not to expect me, but a messenger. He must wear a quail's feather in his hat, and the messenger will carry a bow and bird-tipped arrows feathered with quail."

When they had finished their meal. Hal finally asked the question that haunted him. "The Dark Tower, Nana, is it as full as ever?"

"Many poor wretches have met the misfortune of at- tracting Iscovar's notice," Nana replied. "Why, the very day I left, a bold lord came from the north to pay his trib- ute, and begged the King to curb that robber, Arrok of Rodsen. By my poor old eyes, the King's answer was to clap him and his son and all their retainers into the Tower, and there they'll stay until be takes it into his head to either free them, torture them, or kill them. There's no reason for it, no reason at all, just cruel whim and the ex- cuse of the Sacred Son-"

"Who was that lord?" demanded Hal. Alan's face was pale.

"Some strange northlandish name. . . . Ror-Roran- of the town of Firth."

They bid the old nurse farewell and set her far enough upon her way to make up for the time she had lost. "Put on your sulky look, Nana," Hal reminded her as he kissed her. When Alan looked back, she was once again a sul- len, shambling old woman.

They set off at a gallop into the Forest. By dark they had found Craig the Grim, and Hal informed him that he intended, at whatever risk, to free Roran and his men from the Tower.

"You're mad, Hal, mad!" entreated Craig more ear- nestly than Alan had thought he could speak. "You can in no way succeed. Even if you escape with your life, the kingsmen will be after you like hornets out of a hive.

Think well; it is not only yourself that you risk. You are the only hope of all the poor folk in this land. Would you plunge them into another long age of misery, for the sake

186 THE SILVER SUN.

of some who are already as good as lost? Think of the stakes 1"

"If I thought of the stakes on my life," Hal replied qui- etly, "I would not stir from bed. So I pay no heed, but do what I must do to be a man. I shall succeed, Craig, and the kingsmen will not know where to look for me. You fear too much for me! I know secrets unknown even to you, and have powers you have not seen."

Craig shook his head distractedly and took breath to argue, but Hal silenced him with a flash of his gray eyes- There is no time to talk! Just keep your men on the watch to help any poor wretches that may wander this way."

Craig stood frozen by the icy intensity of that glance.

His vision went black for a moment, and he rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. When he looked up, Hal was off his horse, grasping him anxiously by the shoulders. For the first time, Craig noticed that Hal had to stoop slightly to meet his eyes.

"Are you all right, Craig?" Hal asked. "I am sorry, but perhaps now you understand."

Craig reached out and touched Hal's arm, as if to make sure be was real. "So that is the power of a Very King,"

be whispered with a tinge of awe.

Trigg had stood silently by during this strange scene, understanding little except that Hal was going into great danger. "Master," he broke in now, "let me go with 'em."

"You have no horse," Craig said.