“Tell me in plain terms what numbers there are, or, priest, thy cloak and cord will ill protect thee from my wrath.”
“Alas!” said the friar, “[v]cor meum eructavit, that is to say, I was like to burst with fear! But I conceive they may be—what of yeomen, what of commons—at least five hundred men.”
“What!” said the Templar, who came into the hall that moment, “muster the wasps so thick here? It is time to stifle such a mischievous brood.” Then taking Front-de-Boeuf aside, “Knowest thou the priest?”
“He is a stranger from a distant convent,” replied Front-de-Boeuf; “I know him not.”
“Then trust him not with our purpose in words,” urged the Templar. “Let him carry a written order to De Bracy’s company of Free Companions, to repair instantly to their master’s aid. In the meantime, and that the shaveling may suspect nothing, permit him to go freely about his task of preparing the Saxon hogs for the slaughter-house.”
“It shall be so,” said Front-de-Boeuf. And he forthwith appointed a domestic to conduct the friar to the apartment where Cedric and Athelstane were confined.
The natural impatience of Cedric had been rather enhanced than diminished by his confinement. He walked from one end of the hall to the other, with the attitude of a man who advances to charge an enemy or storm the breach of a beleaguered place, sometimes ejaculating to himself and sometimes addressing Athelstane. The latter stoutly and [v]stoically awaited the issue of the adventure, digesting in the meantime, with great composure, the liberal meal which he had made at noon and not greatly troubling himself about the duration of the captivity.
“Pax vobiscum!” pronounced the priest, entering the apartment. “The blessing of Saint Dunstan, Saint Dennis, Saint Duthoc, and all other saints whatsoever, be upon ye and about ye.”
“Enter freely,” said Cedric to the friar; “with what intent art thou come hither?”
“To bid you prepare yourselves for death,” was the reply.