"Ay," replied the men in a chorus. "And he refuses."
"Sir Knight," exclaimed the squire earnestly. "Wilt yield?"
"Art thou a gentleman of quality, sir?" replied the Frenchman. "If so——"
"Nay, since we are to be done out of his ransom let him die," interrupted the archers sturdily.
"Fret not yourselves," exclaimed Geoffrey. "Were he dead not a groat would ye receive. On the other hand, if he surrender the ransom I'll bestow upon you."
"Then we are content," replied the soldiers, and they moved away.
"Wilt yield, sir Knight?" repeated the squire. "I am a gentleman of coat-armour, and will give thee every consideration befitting a gallant and debonair gentleman of France."
"Fair sir, I yield," but as the vanquished knight tendered the hilt of his axe he toppled and fell heavily to the ground.
Drawing his poniard Geoffrey knelt beside the unconscious man and deftly severed the laces of his bascinet. Upon removing the heavy headpiece he found to his surprise that his captive was none other than Sir Raoul d'Aulx, Seigneur de Maissons and the knight who held Sir Oliver Lysle in courteous captivity.
In vain Geoffrey searched for fresh water. In the furrows and ditches there was water in plenty, but discoloured by the blood of friend and foe. But to the squire's intense relief the colour began to return to the face of Sir Raoul, and at length he opened his eyes.