"Forbear, Arnold, forbear," exclaimed Geoffrey, speaking in English. "'Tis not meet that a commoner should speak thus to the son of a belted knight—e'en though his sire is unworthy of his coat-armour."
Then turning to Henri: "Nay, we are not murderers," he continued. "Failing the ransom or a fair exchange of prisoners, thou must needs remain here awhile in durance. Perchance thy father may see fit to swerve from his purpose."
A look of gratitude flashed across the sullen countenance of the prisoner. As a raider, captured in an attempt to pillage the village of a neighbouring baron, he had expected nothing less than death, since a ransom was not to be considered.
"Fair sir, I thank thee," he replied. "Would that I could serve thee by saving Sir Oliver's life; but, though it shames me to say it, neither mercy nor justice will stand in my father's path."
Despondently Geoffrey brooded over the apparently insoluble situation. Here he was within thirty miles of the castle where his father was languishing. The slender garrison of Taillemartel was insufficient to beleaguer the fortress of Malevereux, though at a word every man would gladly follow him on a forlorn hope. Also he held the son of his arch-enemy as a surety for his father's safety, yet that hope, too, had failed him. Neither could he raise and offer the stipulated ransom, seeing it was against Sir Oliver's fixed purpose. And the eve of the feast of St. Silvester was now within the space of a few days.
As he ruminated over these things Geoffrey had an inspiration. It was but a faint hope, he told himself, yet 'twas better than nothing. He would take advantage of the open house that Sir Yves kept on the eve of his patron saint's day and enter the castle in disguise. By some means the opportunity might occur to provide Sir Oliver with a file or a knife. With these in his possession much might be done in the hours of darkness 'twixt the eve and feast of St. Silvester.
Geoffrey realized that he must keep Gripwell in ignorance of his errand—at least, till he had placed a fair distance between him and Taillemartel; for the old man-at-arms would never permit his charge thus to place his head in the lion's jaws. But the lad had counted the cost, and was prepared to take the risk.
Ere long the plan matured into action. Stealthily providing himself with a long rope, the lad hid it in one of the small rooms built in the outer wall of the castle. A suit of mean attire was also laid by, and all that remained to be done was to wait till darkness set in.
An hour before dawn the guards patrolling the battlements stumbled over a knotted rope secured to the carriage of a mangonel.
The alarm was instantly raised, and Gripwell, on arriving on the scene, ordered a general parade, fearing that one of the garrison had deserted.