Dom Anselm's thin face wrinkled up in thought, weighing the chances.
"I think," he said at last, very slowly, "I think, that we must throw our lot in with Roger Bigot, and be his men."
"I also," said Lewin. "And I have already been preparing a token of our choice."
He pulled a piece of vellum from his tunic.
"Here is a map of the castle, clear drawn. There you see marked the weak spot by the orchard wall; Geoffroi has been long a-mending of it since we noticed the sinking, but nothing has been done. To enter the castle need not be difficult. The donjon will be harder; but I have marked a plan for that also. At the foot of Outfangthef lie les oubliettes, and many deep cellars, raised on arches. It is there keep we our coined silver and the silver in bars. With his engines, knowing the spot, Roger could mine deep, and Outfangthef would fall, leaving a great breach."
Anselm took the plan with admiration.
"It's finely writ," he said; "should'st have been in a scriptorium."
"My two hands are good thralls to me," said Lewin, pleased at the compliment to his work. "Then you and I stand committed to this thing?"
"Since it seems the wisest course, for Lord Roger is a great lord and strong, I give you my hand."
"Let it be so, friend Anselm. I will give John the plan this night."