This letter, being folded, was delivered to the squire, and by him to the messenger who waited without, as the answer to that which he had brought.
IV
About one hour afterward a man arrayed in the cowl and frock of a hermit, and having his knotted cord twisted around his middle, stood before the portal of the castle of Front-de-Boeuf. The warder demanded of him his name and errand.
“[v]Pax vobiscum,” answered the priest, “I am a poor brother of the [v]Order of St. Francis who come hither to do my office to certain unhappy prisoners now secured within this castle.”
“Thou art a bold friar,” said the warder, “to come hither, where, saving our own drunken confessor, a rooster of thy feather hath not crowed these twenty years.”
With these words, he carried to the hall of the castle his unwonted intelligence that a friar stood before the gate and desired admission. With no small wonder he received his master’s command to admit the holy man immediately; and, having previously manned the entrance to guard against surprise, he obeyed, without farther scruple, the order given him.
“Who and whence art thou, priest?” demanded Front-de-Boeuf.
“Pax vobiscum,” reiterated the priest, with trembling voice. “I am a poor servant of Saint Francis, who, traveling through this wilderness, have fallen among thieves, which thieves have sent me unto this castle in order to do my ghostly office on two persons condemned by your honorable justice.”
“Ay, right,” answered Front-de-Boeuf; “and canst thou tell me, the number of those banditti?”
“Gallant sir,” said the priest, “[v]nomen illis legio, their name is legion.”