Such sounds came from the spelunca latronum.
“At the Quatre Voies, fighting for your honour against a drove of northern oxen.”
“And whom hast thou brought with thee to help thee mend it?”
“The fellow who knocked down the bos who gave it me, as deftly as any butcher.”
“Let us see him.”
“What name shall I give thee?” whispered Ralph.
“Martin.”
“Martin of—?”
“Martin from Kenilworth,” said our bashful hero, blushing.
“Thou didst say thou wert of Sussex?”