He went out on the watch tower. The woods were alive with men: they issued out on all sides—the “merrie men” of the woods.
Drogo saw at once that they had come to seek Martin. He took hold of a white flag, and advanced to the tower above the central gateway—to parley—for he feared the arrows of the marksmen of the woods.
“Whom seek ye?”
“One whom thou hast wrongfully imprisoned. The friar Martin.”
“I have not got him here.”
“But thou hast, and we have come to claim him.”
“Choose three of your number. They may come and confer with me in the castle upon his disappearance. God forbid that I should lay hands on His ministers.”
“Dost thou pledge thy honour for their safety?”
“Do ye doubt my honour? Oh, well; so ye may well do, if ye think I would have touched brother Martin.”
He was so plausible that they were ashamed of their distrust, and selected three of their foremost men, who forthwith entered.