t all the good wine and ale that lay in store for
many a secret carousal, when ye pretend ye are but busied with vigils
and primes!--Priest, thou art bound to revenge such sacrilege."

"I am indeed bound to vengeance," murmured Cedric; "Saint Withold knows
my heart."

Front-de-Boeuf, in the meanwhile, led the way to a postern, where,
passing the moat on a single plank, they reached a small barbican,
or exterior defence, which communicated with the open field by a
well-fortified sallyport.

"Begone, then; and if thou wilt do mine errand, and if thou return
hither when it is done, thou shalt see Saxon flesh cheap as ever was
hog's in the shambles of Sheffield. And, hark thee, thou seemest to be a
jolly confessor--come hither after the onslaught, and thou shalt have as
much Malvoisie as would drench thy whole convent."

"Assuredly we shall meet again," answered Cedric.

"Something in hand the whilst," continued the Norman; and, as they
parted at the postern door, he thrust into Cedric's reluctant hand a
gold byzant, adding, "Remember, I will fly off both cowl and skin, if
thou failest in thy purpose."

"And full leave will I give thee to do both," answered Cedric, leaving
the postern, and striding forth over the free field with a joyful step,
"if, when we meet next, I deserve not better at thine hand."--Turning
then back towards the castle, he threw the piece of gold towards the
donor, exclaiming at the same time, "False Norman, thy money perish with
thee!"

Front-de-Boeuf heard the words imperfectly, but the action was
suspicious--"Archers," he called to the warders on the outward
battlements, "send me an arrow through yon monk's frock!--yet stay," he
said, as his retainers were bending their bows, "it avails not--we must
thus far trust him since we have no better shift. I think he dares not
betray me--at the worst I can but treat with these Saxon dogs whom
I have safe in kennel.--Ho! Giles jailor, let them bring Cedric of
Rotherwood before me, and the other churl, his companion--him I mean of
Coningsburgh--Athelstane there, or what call they him? Their very names
are an encumbrance to a Norman knight's mouth, and have, as it were, a
flavour of bacon--Give me a stoup of wine, as jolly Prince John said,
that I may wash away the relish--place it in the armoury, and thither
lead the prisoners."

His commands were obeyed; and, upon entering that Gothic apartment, hung
with many spoils won by his own valour and that