The troop of horse trotted over the three drawbridges, and drew rein in front of the Baron; then wheeling to right and left, disclosed their prisoner.
"I salute thee, William Martel, Lord of Shirburne; my poor castle is too much honoured by thy presence."
"Faith, thou mayst well say so," said the equally proud and fierce captive. "I take it thou hast had few prisoners before higher in rank than the wretched Jews you torture for their gold; but I trust you know how to treat a noble."
"That indeed we do, especially one like thyself; not that we are overawed by thy grandeur; the castle which has entertained thy rightful sovereign may be quite good enough for thee. Companions thou shalt have, if but the toad and adder; light enough to make darkness visible, until such time as thy ransom be paid, or thou submit to thy true Queen."
"To Henry's unworthy child—never. Name thy ransom."
"The Castle of Shirburne and all things pertaining thereto."
"Never shall it be thine."
"Then here shalt thou rot. Tustain, prepare a chamber—one of the dungeons in the north tower, until a more suitable one be builded. And meanwhile it may please thee to learn that we purpose a ride to look at your Shirburne folk, and see the lands which shall be ours; this very night we may light a bonfire or two to amuse them."
And they led the captive away.
Now lest this should be thought a gross exaggeration, it may as well be said that the ungovernable savagery of this contest, the violent animosities engendered, did lead the nobility so called, the very chief of the land, to forget their chivalry, and treat their foes, not after the fashion of the Black Prince and his captive, the King of France, but in the brutal fashion we have described.