H. C. Bailey

“ Becket called.
"I know not," Bran roused himself. "Master Thomas, if you met the devil a-walking on this earth, how would you do?"
"Take heart and slay him," Becket laughed.
"Yea, yea, and when God came upon earth men did even so."
"Out on you, fool, you talk like an infidel."
"No, by my faith, he says well," the King cried. "He thinks deep, my Bran. What men fear that they kill."
"Good or ill, that they kill," Bran echoed. "But what of that, care killed a cat, eat my Thomas, eat and grow fat, long is your nose but longer your face, oh Thomas, my lord, take heart of grace." ”

“ But Becket stood afar off. "Aye, aye, he fears," she laughed, "and he shall fear. I shall abide with him,"
"Mother, mother," Bran said gently.
"Yea, I was a mother once, fool. And my child she died on my breast."
"You are a mother still."
"My little one? Na, na, she is not mine."
"You love her well, mother."
"My flower," the woman murmured. "Little one, little one. She is not mine, I say. If I love, I hate. She is not of my soul. There is her father in her." She turned. ”

“ It was in Bran's mind to seek the child's cave and he lingered behind the others searching here and there. He had a hope to play the King. If the old woman would be guided, the child and she might be made safe against any man. That chance never came.
In the cool of the evening, the black flocks were again on the march. He heard the shepherd boys singing and sometimes a dog busy. Then came a clamour of furious shouts and he climbed the bank and saw a flock turned and scattered and the shepherds running together in a rage. "The witch! the witch! Mark the black witch!" ”