“Nay, nay, Sir Knight,” replied the forester, “I meant not in very simplicity a pet lamb, but a fair damosel, who looked, meseemed, as if she had been the gentle cosset of some fond father. ’Twas a damosel, Sir Knight, a right fair and beauteous damosel; and she shrieked from time to time in such piteous fashion, that, by the Rood, it was clear she went not with him willingly.”
Assueton’s blood boiled, so that it was with difficulty he could longer restrain his fury. He, however, kept it within such bounds as it might well enough pass for the indignation natural to a virtuous knight upon hearing of such foul outrage done to any damsel.
“Unworthy limb of knighthood,” said he, “thus to play the caitiff part of a vile lossel? Show me the way to his boure, and by the blessed bones of the holy St. Cuthbert, he shall dearly rue his traiterie.”
“Marry, ’tis no wonder to see a virtuous knight so enchafed at such actings,” said the forester; “yet can the damosel be little to thee; and ’twere scarce, methinks, worth thy while to step so far from thy path. Had she been thine own lady, indeed———”
“Nay,” said Assueton, hastily, but endeavouring to conceal his emotion, “thou knowest, good forester, that ’tis but my duty as a true knight to redress this foul wrong; and whosoever this lady may be, and wheresoever I may be bound, I must not scruple to step a little out of my way to punish so wicked a coulpe.”
“Right glad am I, Sir Knight,” said the forester, “to see thee so ready to do battle against this caitiff, Sir Miers, and full willing should I be to conduct thee to the sacking of his tower; but, in good verity, ’twere vain to go accoutred and attended as thou art. He keeps special good watch and ward, I promise thee, and he is too much wont to have his quarters beat up, not to be for ever on the alert. He hath scouts stationed all around him, in such a manner that no one may approach his stronghold of Burnstower by day or by night withouten ken, and he is straightway put on the alert long ere he can be reached. If those who come against him be strong and well armed, more than his force than overcome, then he hies him away to the fastnesses [[139]]of his mosses and hills, where no one but the eagle may follow him, and leaves only his barren walls to the fury of the besiegers. But if the party be small, and such as his wiles may master, he is sure to lead them into some ambush, and to put every man of them to the sword. Trust me, were thou to go clad in steel, and with such a party of spearmen at thy back, he would take the alarm, and thou wouldst either have thy journey and thy trouble for thy guerdon, or thou and thy people might fall by cruel traiterie.”
“Then what, after all, may be the best means of coming at him?” said Assueton; “for thou hast but the more inflamed my desire to essay the adventure.”
The forester seemed to consider for a time—“In truth,” said he at length, “I see no other way than one, the which thou wouldst spurn, Sir Knight.”
“Name it,” said Assueton; “depend on’t, I shall not be over nice in this affair.”
“Wert thou,” said the forester, “and, it might be, no more than two of thy people, to venture thither in disguise, with one or two of us to guide thee, thou mightest peradventure pass thither without begetting alarm, and be received into the Castle as lated and miswent travellers, lacking covert for the night. But then all that would be but of small avail, for what couldst thou do with thy single arm, and so small a force to aid it?”