“Gallant sir,” answered the Jester, “‘nomen illis legio’, their name is legion.”
“Tell me in plain terms what numbers there are, or, priest, thy cloak and cord will ill protect thee.”
“Alas!” said the supposed friar, “‘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-Bœuf aside “Knowest thou the priest?”
“He is a stranger from a distant convent,” said Front-de-Bœuf; “I know him not.”
“Then trust him not with thy purpose in words,” answered 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 these Saxon hogs for the slaughter-house.”
“It shall be so,” said Front-de-Bœuf. And he forthwith appointed a domestic to conduct Wamba to the apartment where Cedric and Athelstane were confined.
The 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 one who advances to charge an enemy, or to storm the breach of a beleaguered place, sometimes ejaculating to himself, sometimes addressing Athelstane, who stoutly and 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 interesting himself about the duration of his captivity, which he concluded, would, like all earthly evils, find an end in Heaven’s good time.
“‘Pax vobiscum’,” said the Jester, entering the apartment; “the blessing of St Dunstan, St Dennis, St Duthoc, and all other saints whatsoever, be upon ye and about ye.”
“Enter freely,” answered Cedric to the supposed friar; “with what intent art thou come hither?”