"Roger," quoth he, "Sir Robert will demand speech of Gui of Allerdale, mark ye that, my Rogerkin. Nor will he speak to any but Sir Gui—for a great lord and proud is Robert of Hurstmanswyke. Ha, what think ye, Roger?"
"I think perchance he must go dumb then—come, let us follow."
"Nay, but speak he must—since he may tell us much, aye, and speak he shall. So come, my Rogerkin, hither with me!"
"With thee, Giles? And wherefore?"
"A wile, sweet Roger, a notable wile—a wile of wiles. Hush! speak not, but come—for mark this:
"In faith a cunning man is Giles
In counsel sage and full of wiles!"
"So come, Rogerkin!" So saying, he gripped stout Roger's arm and plunged into the crowd.
Being come out upon the battlement above the gate, Beltane, with the Reeve beside him, peering down through the dark, beheld beyond the moat, a knight supported by four esquires, and beyond these Beltane counted thirty lances what time the Reeve, steadying his voice, challenged them.
Hereupon the knight spake:
"Ha! do ye stir at last, dogs! Open in the Duke's name—'tis I, Robert, lord of Hurstmanswyke, with message to the lord Seneschal, Sir Gui, and captives from Bourne!"