"I am Richard de Tany of Essex," said the oldest knight, he who had first spoken, "and these be my daughter and her friend, Mary de Stutevill.
"I have no quarrel with you, Richard de Tany," said Norman of Torn.
The next day a young man hailed the watch upon the walls of the castle of Richard de Tany telling him to bear word to Joan de Tany that Roger de Conde, a friend of her guest Lady Mary de Stutevill, was without.
He was escorted to an apartment where Mary de Stutevill and Joan de Tany were waiting to receive him.
"Are all your old friends and neighbors come after you to Essex," cried Joan de Tany, laughingly, addressing Mary.
"You could not well be blamed," said Joan de Tany, generously.
As she spoke, Norman of Torn looked upon her critically for the first time, and he saw that Joan de Tany was beautiful, and that when she spoke her face lighted with a hundred little changing expressions of intelligence and character that cast a spell of fascination about her.
And so it came to pass that for many days the Outlaw of Torn was a daily visitor at the castle of Richard de Tany, and the acquaintance between the man and the two girls ripened into a deep friendship, and with one of them it threatened even more.
Norman of Torn, in his ignorance of the ways of women, saw only friendship in the little acts of Joan de Tany. His life had been a hard and lonely one.
His every thought was loyal to the woman whom he knew was not for him, but he longed for the companionship of his own kind and so welcomed the friendship of such as Joan de Tany and her fair guest.
She might have warned him had she known the truth, but instead she let things drift except for a single word of warning to Joan de Tany.
And in the midst of these alarms it entered the willful head of Joan de Tany that she wished to ride to London town and visit the shops of the merchants.