her.

And so the cruel hand of a mighty revenge had reached out to crush another

innocent victim.

CHAPTER XV

When word of the death of Joan de Tany reached Torn, no man could tell from

outward appearance the depth of the suffering which the sad intelligence

wrought on the master of Torn.

All that they who followed him knew was that certain unusual orders were

issued, and that that same night, the ten companies rode south toward Essex

without other halt than for necessary food and water for man and beast.

When the body of Joan de Tany rode forth from her father's castle to the

church at Colchester, and again as it was brought back to its final resting

place in the castle's crypt, a thousand strange and silent knights, black

draped, upon horses trapped in black, rode slowly behind the bier.

Silently they had come in the night preceding the funeral, and as silently,

they slipped away northward into the falling shadows of the following

night.

No word had passed between those of the castle and the great troop of

sable-clad warriors, but all within knew that the mighty Outlaw of Torn had

come to pay homage to the memory of the daughter of De Tany, and all but

the grieving mother wondered at the strangeness of the act.

As the horde of Torn approached their Derby stronghold, their young leader

turned the command over to Red Shandy and dismounted at the door of Father

Claude's cottage.

"I am tired, Father," said the outlaw as he threw himself upon his

accustomed bench. "Naught but sorrow and death follow in my footsteps. I

and all my acts be accurst, and upon those I love, the blight falleth."

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