"Concerning Taillemartel, the castle hath been taken by Sir Bertrand de Chargné, though there was but a poor defence. Only the Englishman, Gripwell, and a few others struck blows for Sir Oliver's cause. They say that the King of England hath declared war 'gainst this country, and that every Islander hath either been thrown into prison or hath fled across the seas. Beyond that I know little; but this I can tell you: Sir Oliver is still a captive of the Lord of Malevereux."
"But with mine own eyes I saw my father fight his way out of Malevereux, Néron."
"Then the saints be praised, monsieur. But, be that as it may, Sir Oliver hath not set foot in Taillemartel since the evil day when he was taken by the Tyrant."
"And Gripwell—what of him?"
"I cannot say with certainty. Some would have it that he hath gotten clear away, after vanquishing five of de Chargné's men-at-arms."
"I trust it may be true; but, tell me, what befel Henri, son of Sir Yves? I was told that he died before his trencher."
"Nay, whoever told thee that lied in his throat. He tried to escape by rending his sheets into strips and making a rope, but the rope broke and he fell to his death."
"Whither goest thou, Néron?"
"To the castle, monsieur," replied the Norman apologetically. "A man must live, e'en if he hath to serve a new master. But, monsieur, thou art worn and hungry, and so is thy friend."
"Ay, that we are," assented Geoffrey. "Perchance thou canst furnish us with food, and put us on the safest road to the coast?"