The old man bowed, and was preparing to reply, when the knight in waiting entered hastily, and told the king that there was a woman in the outer court, crying bitterly for justice, and who was very urgent to speak with him. The king ordered that she should be admitted, and in a moment she stood before him, pale, shrivelled, hagard, and wild, and altogether such a figure as one scarcely can see, or could see, without the impression that she was scarce earthly. Her appearance was that of a lady of quality, of great age; she had large ear-rings, a tremendous ruff, a head-dress of a thousand intricate flutings, projecting before and tapering upward behind, cork-heeled shoes, a low hoop, and a waist of length and stiffness, not to be described.
“Revenge! Revenge! my lord, O king!” cried she. “I crave justice of your majesty—justice, and nothing more. You have two hounds, that came into my house early this morning, and have devoured, or taken away my only daughter, my sole stay and hope in this world, and nothing is left but a part of her garments. These dogs have some power deputed to them that is not of thy giving, therefore grant me that I may see vengeance done upon them, and their bodies burnt at a stake before the going down of the sun.”
“That is a true and worthy gentlewoman, my liege,” said the old stranger; “and you may take her word for whatever she advances.”
The ancient dame turned about—stared on the stranger with wild astonishment—dropped a low courtesy, and then said, “I crave you pardon, my lord and master. I noted not that you were so nigh. I hope your errand here coincides with mine.”
“It does,” said he; “there are more sufferers than one; and, by the head that bows to thee!—I swear by none greater—we shall have justice if it be in the land!”
“This is a combination,” said the king; “I pay no regard to it. Bring witnesses to establish your charges, and you shall have justice done.”
They went forth to bring their proof, and behold they had them all in the outer court. In the mean time the king sent for some men of the place to come, and made enquiry of them who the old dame was, and what was the character that she bore. They informed him that she was a noted witch, and kept the whole country in terror and turmoil, and that she had indeed an only daughter, who was an impious and malevolent minx, devoted to every species of wickedness.
“The wrinkled beldame shall be burnt at the stake,” said the king. “It is proper that the land should be cleansed of these disturbers of its peace; as for that old stranger, I have my own surmises concerning him, and we shall find a way to deal with his subtilty.”