"With all my heart—when you send away your knaves also."
"I will do so; but fear not, mistress," he called out. "I will not leave this hall. 'Tis all for the avoiding of bloodshed, and your better comfort in the end."
"'Tis well, sir; I am not afraid," she answered, in a tired, trembling voice.
It was agreed that Jerningham's men should go into the room on the left-hand side of the hall, diagonally opposite that in which the maid was; that the beggars should return to the kitchen; that the signal for both parties to withdraw should be given by Jerningham. He was about to speak the word forthwith, when the captain interposed:
"By your leave, I'll first have private speech with my friends. You have already had with yours, and may have again ere they depart."
Jerningham saw no way of refusing, or, indeed, much reason therefor; doubtless the captain wished but to counsel his rascals to be vigilant for a possible second call. So Jerningham gave consent by silence. Ravenshaw had a conference with the beggars, in which chief parts were taken by the white-bearded rogue and the ancient cripple who had guided the maunderers to the Grange.
Presently Ravenshaw signified that he had done; whereupon Jerningham said "Begone," and the two parties filed out, each narrowly watching the other, Jerningham's men taking a torch with them, the beggars clumping with their iron-tipped wooden implements. Only Ravenshaw took note that one of the lanterns disappeared with the beggars. The captain, Jerningham, Mistress Meg, who had watched recent occurrences from the kitchen door, and Sir Clement Ermsby were left in the hall.
"How?" quoth the captain, staring at the knight. "Do you break faith? Why go you not with the other men?"
"Troth, sir, I am nobody's man," replied Sir Clement. "I am this gentleman's friend, and, when I choose, I fight for him; but my comings and goings are not to be stipulated for by any man."
Ravenshaw perceived that a minor point had been scored against him; but he was not much discomfited. He had merely to play for time, to guard the doorway of that room for an unknown number of hours. As long as he could temporise, two antagonists were no worse than one; if it came to fighting, two were a little worse, but, as both must attack in front, the odds were nothing out of his experience.