"You don't mean that you dress like this every day?" demanded Blake.
"And why not? But enough of this. I have no wish to further bandy words with thee. Fetch him within, two of thee. And thou, Bodkin, return to the outer guard!" The young man turned and reentered the building, while two of the soldiers seized Blake, none too gently, and hustled him within.
He found himself in a high-ceiled room with walls of cut stone and great, hand-hewn beams and rafters blackened with age. Upon the stone floor stood a table behind which, upon a bench, the young man seated himself while Blake was placed facing him with a guard on either hand.
"Thy name," demanded the young man.
"Blake."
"That be all—just Blake?"
"James Hunter Blake."
"What title bearest thou in thine own country?"
"I have no title."
"Ah, thou art not a gentleman, then?"