But though the Bedford burgesses were duly impressed with the enormity of Fulke de Breauté's doings, they were loath to take any steps to put a stop to them. And indeed Ralph himself was obliged to confess that any attempt to climb those lofty stone walls, or to throw themselves on to the spears of the armed men who kept watch and ward night and day at the castle gate, would have been utter madness. The only hope was that, now that one of the king's justices was actually a prisoner, the royal forces might be sent to extirpate this nest of robbers.
"Ah, Sir Knight," quoth one of the fathers of the town to Ralph, as he gravely shook his head, "our goodly town has indeed grievously suffered since thy noble family and thy renowned uncle were driven away. In the old days the castle was a protection and a great benefit to us. But now--alas, fair sir! thou knowest as well as we do what we suffer. We can scarce call our souls our own."
"Ay," put in one of the clergy of the town, who formed one of the group which had gathered round young De Beauchamp, "see our fair church of St. Paul. It hath stood here since the days of the Saxon Bedicanford. And now, alas! how forlorn and shorn it standeth, even as a widow in her weeds mourning for her lord! Thus hath she stood since the day the impious Fulke did wickedly break down the carved work of our Zion with axes and hammers, and carry off her stones to strengthen yon great castle which towers above us. In the chancel resteth thy ancestor Simon, he who finished the good work begun by his mother, the Lady Roisia--to wit, the priory at Newenham for the canons of St. Paul's. In good sooth, Sir Knight, thy house and Holy Church have both good reason to curse these French intruders."
Ralph turned dejectedly away from priests and burghers. The loss of his family possessions hardly weighed with him, compared with the loss of her who was more precious to him than spoils wrested from the Church. He rode slowly and deliberately to the castle gate.
The sentinels on duty stood at attention, ready to resist an attack should a single horseman be so foolhardy as to ride against their uplifted spears.
Ralph looked upwards at the stern walls frowning down upon him, and shook his sword at them in futile rage.
As he did so two figures appeared above the battlement of the barbican. They were the Robber Baron and his brother, who had been informed that Sir Ralph de Beauchamp had ridden up to the castle.
Fulke made the knight a mocking gesture of salutation.
"Sir Ralph," he said, "it grieves me sore that I cannot bid thee enter within these walls, and proffer thee the hospitality which is suitable to thy rank. But we entertain guests already."
So saying, he turned round and shoved forward the disconsolate-looking judge, Henry de Braybrooke.