By the time the Minstrel has reached the last stanza of the ballad, the Man has advanced until he now stands directly back of Lady Edyth’s chair.
Man. Bravo! Bravo! Oh, what would not I be willing to give if only I might write—or even read—such lays as that!
The Baron and Lady Edyth are startled at hearing a voice so close.
Baron. (Starting to his feet in a rage, he makes a mad rush for the servant, belabors him, and throws him to the floor.) How darest thou comport thyself thus in the presence of thy betters! Write lays! read lays! What is the world coming to, forsooth, when every lazy churl aspires to lift himself from the station in which he was born!
He advances threateningly toward the Man, but the Maiden rushes between and, falling on her knees, raises her hands in pleading. The Baron stops. Lady Edyth leaves her chair and advances toward the Baron, as if to intercede, but he does not see her.
Baron. Out of my way, wench! I will have him flayed alive for his insolence! I will have him thrown into prison! I will—
Minstrel (interrupting). Thou shalt do him no ill.
Lady Edyth and the Maiden, still on her knees, and the Man, who has raised himself until he reclines on an elbow, look to the Minstrel with various expressions on their faces: Lady Edyth’s look is one of wonder, and fear for the consequence of his words; the servants’ faces express fear and a glimmer of hope.
Baron (astounded). What? What? By what right darest thou thus address me?
Minstrel. By the right granted by the King. Thou art far from London, and so methinks have not heard the news. Over a fortnight ago King John signed the Magna Charta.