The two men at work below had brought torches with them, which were
fastened to the walls by iron spikes. The smoke from these hung in
heavy masses about the tower, still further diminishing the clearness
with which the watchers aloft could observe what went on below.
One of the workmen was tall and spare, with the forward thrust of head
and neck seen in vultures and other unclean birds. The other, who held
the sacks while his companion shovelled, was on the contrary stout and
short, of a notably jovial, rubicund countenance, in habit like the
hostler of an inn, or perhaps a well-to-do carrier upon the roads.
The two worked without speaking, as if the task were distasteful. When
one sack was full, both would seize their picks and dig furiously at
the floor of the tower. Then when they had enough loosened, they
would fall to shovelling the curiously shaped objects into the sacks
again.
As Sholto looked down he heard a hissing whisper at his ear.
"These be Blanchet the sorcerer and Robin Romulart. But last week they
took notice of my little Jean and praised him for a noble boy.
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