"Then I must make the tormentor find thee speech. What ho! Coupe-gorge!"
The curtain was drawn back with a clang, and revealed the rack and a brasier, containing pincers heated to a gray heat, and a man in leathern jerkin with a pendent mask of black leather, with two holes cut therein for the eyes, and two assistants similarly attired—one a black man, or very swarthy Moor.
The old man did not turn his head.
"Look," said Brian.
"Why should I look? I have told thee the very truth; I have nought to alter in my story. If thou dost in thy cruelty misuse the power which God has given thee, and rend me limb from limb, I shall soon be beyond thy cruelty. But I can tell thee nought."
"We will see," said Brian. "Place him on the rack!"
"It needs not force," said the aged Englishman. "I will walk to thy bed of pain," and he turned to do so.
Again this calm courage turned Brian.
"Man," he said, "thou wouldst not lie before to save thy life; nor now, I am convinced, to save thy quivering flesh, if it does quiver. Tell me what thou hast to tell, without being forced to do so."
"I will. Thou didst once burn a house at Compton—the house of Wulfnoth."