Bound tightly to the inner side of the lad's left arm were two files, while in addition to the short dagger that hung in his belt a sharp knife was concealed in one of his undressed leather buskins. Geoffrey's fair curls had been ruthlessly clipped in order to better his disguise, but his clear-cut features belied his rôle of peasant.
Crossing the drawbridge, Geoffrey found himself within the portals of the fortress, where the Tyrant held his father captive, and with a quivering sensation in his throat the lad paused beneath the deep vaulted archway, through which the bases of the triple portcullis shone dully like the fangs of a savage beast.
On either side of the inner gateway stood a strong guard of archers and men-at-arms. Each arrival was closely scrutinized, and ere allowed to pass was compelled to temporarily surrender his weapons. Only in the case of knights and gentlemen of quality was the restriction relaxed, since they were to take part in the grand joust in honour of Sir Yves' patron saint.
Without being challenged Geoffrey gave up his dagger, though one of the soldiers glanced askance at the lad's refined face. Deeply self-conscious, he bowed his head and hastened his footsteps till he gained the outer bailey.
Here the rectangular grassy space was surrounded by wooden stands covered with gay-coloured cloth, rising in tiers towards the encircling walls. In the centre of the platform facing the gateway was a daïs provided with a canopy. This was for the use of Sir Yves de Valadour and his principal guests.
As yet the stands were deserted, the assembled company being entertained in the grass-grown courtyard, where a profusion of broached casks and trestled tables groaning with food showed that on this and similar occasions Sir Yves disbursed his liberality with an unsparing hand.
Scorning to partake of his enemy's food, Geoffrey stole softly betwixt the crowd of gesticulating and chattering guests and made his way towards the frowning walls of the keep, that reared themselves skywards at the junction of the battlements of the outer and inner walls.
He vaguely wondered whether those long slit-like apertures in the base of the keep were the windows of the dungeons, till the sound of revelry proceeding from them told that the lower storeys of the keep were appropriated to the garrison. The dungeons, therefore, he reasoned, were beneath the ground-level, yet there was nothing to indicate their position.
Continuing his tour of investigation, Geoffrey came to a lofty doorway communicating with the inner bailey. Here numbers of gaily-clad guests were streaming out, laughing and exchanging coarse jokes with each other.
For a space the lad stood without, then glanced wistfully in the direction of the inner ward. Then, summoning up courage, he made his way towards this gateway.