"Anything but this horrible thirst."
"Methinks that will shortly be assuaged. Mark yon cloud; observe how it draws nigh 'gainst the little wind that blows. Within half an hour 'twill be passing strange if there be not a thunder-storm."
Oswald was right in his surmise. Ever and anon a dull rumble could be heard, the sound gradually increasing in intensity, till, accompanied by incessant flashes of lightning and deafening rolls of thunder, a torrential rain descended.
Eagerly the lads extended their open palms to catch the thirst-quenching moisture, till, feeling greatly relieved, they were glad to retreat to the furthermost end of the archway to escape the fury of the elements.
"Ho, ho! young sirs. What, still here? Why are ye not well on your way to Taillemartel?" exclaimed a gruff voice.
Both youths turned at the sound of the voice, and at the same time a dazzling flash of lightning played upon the steel cap and breastplate of one of the men-at-arms. Geoffrey instantly recognized him as the man who had stayed his advance on the occasion of the memorable joust-day.
"Art hungry?" continued the soldier.
Unable to resist the apparent invitation, the lads made their way to the barred door. Without stood the man-at-arms, with a loaf of rye bread in his hand, held in such a manner that the glare of a torch enabled it to be clearly seen.
Ostentatiously the man cut off a slice with his dagger, then replacing the weapon in a sheath that hung at his right side, he proffered the bread to the prisoners. Ere they could stretch out their hands the soldier conveyed the food to his own mouth, his body shaking with merriment at the lads' disappointment.
Twice he repeated these tantalizing tactics, till, realizing that 'twas no intention on the part of the man-at-arms to provide them with food, Geoffrey and Oswald retired a few steps from the grille.