"Have you made any computation regarding the number of soldiers the Archbishops have under their banners?"
"What has that to do with it? The men are scattered north, east, south, and west of this place, and cannot be rallied in time to harm me."
"I am, of course, not in the confidence of the Archbishops and cannot tell how wisely or unwisely their plans are laid. Were I in their place I should count on just such a sortie as you have proposed, caused either by folly or desperation. It is a thing a famished commander might do, or it might be done by one who knew no better. I should have it arranged that a bugle call would cause all available men to march instantly over the hills and cut you off from the gates before you could possibly retreat. As the Archbishops have a hundred men and more to your one, there can be no possible doubt regarding the termination of such a venture as yours. You are as wise as a snail would be to leave his shell, and, unarmed, fight a hawk in the open. The castle is your shell, and remaining in it is your only salvation. I am astonished at the futility of your proposal."
"I cannot sit inactive."
"You must. Otherwise the sane thing to do is to run up a white flag after taking down your own, make terms with the Archbishops and deliver your castle to them. Then you may get concessions, but to sally forth at the head of your men is to deliver your castle at once into their hands, and that without compensation, for then they take it and capture or kill you. It is the project of a madman."
The Count became fiercely enraged at this merciless criticism, and, almost foaming at the mouth, smote his fist on the table, crying:
"Our weakness is not that we are outnumbered a hundred to one. It is that we are one too many in Thuron. No garrison can prosper under two commanders."
"Again you are mistaken. There are not two commanders, but one only. There are two commanders with the besiegers, and that fact, in spite of their army's strength, is probably the reason the castle has not been taken long since. There is but one commander in Thuron, and I am he."
"You lie!" yelled the Black Count. "I am master of Thuron, and will remain so while a stone of it rests on another."
"Prove yourself so. The weapons with which we previously fought on this question still hang on the wall; only, take warning. I shall use the edge of the sword, and not the flat of it, upon your person when next I face you."