As they passed the gate of the village a poor man ran from the group, and threw himself before Sir Geraint.
'O sir knight,' he cried full piteously, 'if thou art a good knight and a brave, do thou see justice done here. For these four lords would cut my father's throat if he say not where his money is hid.'
'Are they his proper lords?' asked Geraint.
'Nay, sir knight,' said the man. 'Our land is Geraint's, and these lords say that he sleeps all day, and so they will be our masters. And they do ever oppress us with fine and tax and torture.'
Therewith Sir Geraint rode through the gate of the village and approached the group. He saw where the four knights stood cruelly torturing a poor old man whom they had tied to a post, and the sweat stood upon the peasant's white face, and the fear of death was in his eyes.
'Lords! lords,' he cried in a spent voice, 'I have no money, for you did take all I had when you told us our lord Geraint was become a court fool.'
'Thou miser!' jeered one of the knights, 'that was two months agone, and thou hast something more by now. Will this loose thy secret, carrion?'
At the cruel torture the man shrieked aloud, and by reason of the pain his head sank and he slid down the post in a swoon. And a young woman rushed forth, threw her arm about the hanging body, and with flashing eyes turned and defied the knights.
Next moment it would have gone ill with her, but the voice of Sir Geraint rang out.
'Ho, there, sir knights,' he cried, 'or sir wolves—I know not which ye are—have ye naught to do but to squeeze poor peasants of mean savings?'