Arnold Gripwell had partaken himself to the quarters of the sous-officiers, while the archers had to content themselves with company of the Norman soldiery, but their slight knowledge of the foreign tongue was sufficient to enable them to carry on a conversation with their new comrades.
"Hast heard or seen aught of Sir Yves of Malevereux?" asked Geoffrey, as they were doing full duty towards the viands.
"Of Sir Yves nothing; of his following overmuch. Thrice within the last fortnight have his men appeared within sight of Taillemartel. Yet though they did us no scath, they did not hesitate to mock at us. Ma foi, when they mentioned the name of Sir Oliver, and taunted us that we were children not to stir on his behalf 'twas as much as I could do to keep my men in hand. Yet seeing that they of Malevereux were thrice as many, and that little or no good was to come of adventuring ourselves 'gainst them in the open, I kept our men within walls."
"I trust that they have done no harm to the tenantry?"
"Only to Pierre, the wood-cutter," replied Bertram carelessly. "Poor fool, he would not take shelter within the castle as the rest have done, so they slew him on his own threshold—not before he had killed two of the villains."
"Now that is good cheer," continued the seneschal, when Geoffrey had told him of the proposed alliance with Sir Raoul d'Aulx. "By St. Denis, with three hundred men-at-arms, archers, and cross-bowmen 'gainst it, Malevereux will assuredly fall. And then——Ah, with Sir Oliver set free, and the plunder of two score years within our grasp, life will be worth living."
On the morning following the arrival of the Englishmen at Taillemartel, Oswald Steyning set out to deliver the letter from the Lady Bertha to Sir Yves de Malevereux.
In spite of the young squire's forebodings, he persevered in his determination of bearding the Tyrant in his den. Refusing to take any of the garrison as an escort, he bade farewell to Geoffrey and his friends, both English and Norman; then, trusting to chance to avoid straggling parties of raiders (though the fact that he bore a letter addressed to the Tyrant might afford him safe conduct), he rode forth from the sheltering walls of Taillemartel.
From that moment it seemed as if the earth had opened and swallowed up the bold and devoted squire of Sir Oliver Lysle. Day after day passed, yet Oswald did not return. Reluctantly Geoffrey had to admit that, unless some misadventure had befallen his friend on the way, Sir Yves had been guilty of a gross breach of faith, and had made the young squire captive in the gloomy castle of Malevereux.
For the next fifteen days following Oswald's departure nothing of interest occurred to break the ordinary routine observed at Taillemartel. Occasionally parties of horsemen, bearing Sir Yves' livery, would appear before the castle, but they wisely forbore from approaching within bow-shot. Nevertheless, Geoffrey had not been idle. Under Gripwell's tutorage he studiously practised the use of the lance, sword and mace, or engaged in tourneys with blunted lances. Hard knocks were given and received with good grace, and day by day the heir of Warblington made rapid progress in the art of war.