"Stop the wagging of thy tongue, knave, and take heed to what I say. This is not the daughter of a villainous churl, bred and reared on a midden, take note. So I will have this business done accordingly."
"Ah, I comprehend it all. This is potter's ware, that must not be soiled in transit. All damage and defacement must be reserved for your respectable self."
"Just so! Don't poke thy villainous phiz—which reminds me of a keg of wine gone sour—beneath her hood for kisses on thy own account. I'll have none of it! Just do thine errand as a Christian should, and——"
"Christian, forsooth, I think you said just now, Baron?"
"Eh? Stop thy chatter, dog, when I am speaking! Thy tongue will cut thy throat some day, villain, if thou sharpen it a little more, now mark that! Thou art getting much too ready with thy scurvy impudence. Just attend to me and shut thy mouth. I have these further instructions for thee. This business, understand, must be done in the dark, and thy tongue must not wag of it—or any of thy comrades' either, mark me. Her ladyship, over yonder," said he, jerking his thumb over his left shoulder in the direction of Alice's tent, "tosses her head a little too much for my stomach already, and she has worked herself up into a devil of a fume, just because I took a fancy to this same wench a little time ago. So let there be no hullaballoo over it, mind that. I know what I'm about," said he, with a brutal chuckle. "When your game's afield you must tread softly, that's my point, but when it's bagged—ha, ha! you may skin it anyhow you please. So, so! wait awhile; my turn will come by-and-by, and when I get the bit within her teeth—well, never mind that just now. There's no need to tell all one's mind to a scurvy trooper," he muttered, under his breath. "There, now thou knows thy business; but don't bring her to the camp, and don't get drunk and bungle the whole thing."
Pierre was both a ready and a capable tool of the Baron's, and indispensable to him in the life of brutality and villainy which he led. So promptly he set about selecting some half a dozen of his comrades to assist him in carrying out his master's behests. As the shadows of evening began to gather about the camp, they mounted their horses and stole away from the encampment at a brisk trot, reaching the monastery just as the evening twilight had deepened into the sombre gloom of night. "Let us dismount here," said Pierre, "and leave our horses outside the grounds; for the less row there is in this business the better it will suit the Baron. I suppose as usual it will be a screeching affair, and if we do not be careful we shall have the whole brood of pious gentry at our heels in a trice." So, hastily dismounting and leaving their horses in charge of one of their number, they strode up to the entrance gates, which they found in charge of two of the Norman soldiery, by whom they were promptly admitted.
"I say, Jaques," said Pierre, addressing one of the guard, "can you tell us whereabouts this Saxon wench called Ethel may be found?"
"You will find her in the monks' quarters sure enough," said Jaques; "but I would advise you to get one of the kitchen scullions to lead the way for you; that will be your best plan."
So, stealthily wheeling round the main building, they entered the refectory kitchen, where they found several of the meaner lay brothers occupied in the menial tasks of that department, whilst a number of half-starved and ragged mendicants sat round the spacious hall, drinking the small ale and munching the bacon and bread with which they had been provided. With abject consternation and fear they beheld the advent of these troopers; but Pierre immediately laid hold of one of them.
"Varlet," said he, "where is the Saxon wench Ethel to be found?"