"To-morrow," he said to Little John, "I must be at the Abbey of St. Mary, which is in the city of York, for if I am but so much as a day late my lands are lost for ever, and though I were to bring the money I should not be suffered to redeem them."
Now the Abbot had been counting the days as well as the knight, and the next morning he said to his monks: "This day year there came a knight and borrowed of me four hundred pounds, giving his lands in surety. And if he come not to pay his debt ere midnight tolls they will be ours forever."
"It is full early yet," answered the Prior, "he may still be coming."
"He is far beyond the sea," said the Abbot, "and suffers from hunger and cold. How is he to get here?"
"It were a shame," said the Prior, "for you to take his lands. And you do him much wrong if you drive such a hard bargain."
"He is dead or hanged," spake a fat-headed monk who was the cellarer, "and we shall have his four hundred pounds to spend on our gardens and our wines," and he went with the Abbot to attend the court of justice wherein the knight's lands would he declared forfeited by the High Justiciar.
"If he come not this day," cried the Abbot, rubbing his hands, "if he come not this day, they will be ours."
"He will not come yet," said the Justiciar, but he knew not that the knight was already at the outer gate, and Little John with him.
"Welcome, Sir Knight," said the porter. "The horse that you ride is the noblest that ever I saw. Let me lead them both to the stable, that they may have food and rest."
"They shall not pass these gates," answered the knight, sternly, and he entered the hall alone, where the monks were sitting at meat, and knelt down and bowed to them.