"My Lord Lisle of Rougemount, I surrender to you, rescue or no rescue."
The baron thus addressed seized De Breauté's outstretched sword, and signalled to his men. They closed round the prisoner and his immediate attendants, and prepared to march them off to the dungeon.
But as they crossed the great hall they met a young knight, followed by two or three men-at-arms, hurrying towards the turret stair.
"Ho, nephew!" exclaimed Sir William de Beauchamp, pointing to Lord Lisle's prisoner with the nearest approach to a smile of which his lugubrious features were capable; "see here! He hath tried long enough how it feels to sit in our great hall; we go now to give him a taste of our dungeon."
William de Breauté turned his head, and for the first time, and for a few moments only, found himself face to face with his rival, Ralph de Beauchamp. He cast upon him a look in which malignant hatred was mingled with the haggard despair of frustrated hopes.
"Dog!" he ejaculated, "methought thou liedst safe at the bottom of thy muddy Ouse!"
"Not so safe as thou wilt shortly lie in our donjon vaults," retorted Ralph, scarcely deigning to glance at him. "I can dive, man."
The guards led on.
To engage in such open rebellion against Henry was a somewhat different matter to joining in the confederation of barons against the tyranny and injustice of King John, as William de Beauchamp had done: and as William de Breauté and his men were led away down the steep stairs to the gloomy cells beneath the keep, they felt that their doom was sealed.
CHAPTER XXII.