"Yield thee, Sir Knight."
This time the Frenchman thought ere he declined the proffered condition.
"Thou art of noble blood?" he asked. "If not, slay me."
"I am the son of Sir Oliver Lysle, whom thou——"
"Then I surrender myself," replied the knight, without waiting for further explanation.
Breathlessly Geoffrey leaned upon the shoulder of one of the archers, while Gripwell and one or two others proceeded to cut the laces of the Frenchman's bascinet.
When at length the vanquished man was unhelmed a cry of astonishment arose from the onlookers.
Instead of the cruel, debased features of Sir Yves of Malevereux the face of a young man of about twenty years of age greeted the eyes of the men of Taillemartel.
"Who art thou, young sir?" demanded Geoffrey. "Methought I had captured the Tyrant of Malevereux."
"I am Henri, son of him whom thou hast named the Tyrant," was the reply.