"I did not see the man, and those who reported it to me, as all do the most trifling events, said that they could see little of him, as his head was swathed in bandages." "It is he," murmured Edgar half to himself. "Who? Whom dost mean? Dost know the man?" cried the priest sharply. "I fear so. I think it must be this evil knight of whom I have told thee. The blow with which I worsted him in the lists at Bordeaux was severe, and I know that his head had to be much bandaged. Then before I left I learned that he had already gone. ’Tis he of a surety. He hath followed his victim." "Can he know that thou art here?" "I think not; but one cannot be sure, and he will guess that I would not remain idle." "Then it is this knight, this enemy of thine, who hath caused the watch to be doubled. ’Twill be the harder for thee to find a way in by thy stratagem. Hast brought a rope with thee?" "No. I must make enquiries and obtain one." "I will do so for thee. Thou wilt only arouse suspicion and make folk talk. Leave it to me, Sir Squire." Edgar thanked the priest warmly, and stipulated that it should be both light and strong. Then they went on to talk of other things, and the priest told Edgar stories of his work amongst the poor peasantry. Some were humoursome, others bright stories illustrating the homely virtues of the folk and their generosity one to another; but the greater part were tales of cruelty and oppression, which made Edgar’s blood boil--tales of men tortured into revealing where their little store of worldly wealth, laid by with much self-denial, had been hidden away; and tales of men done to death for their "obstinacy", when they had no store whose whereabouts they could reveal to satisfy their relentless persecutors. It all seemed almost incredible to Edgar, until he recollected the stories he had heard handed down of the deeds done in his own land but a century or two before. It was three days before Edgar obtained a rope that he thought gave him the least hope of success in the venture he had in hand. The good priest did all in his power, and scarce a rope in the neighbourhood but was brought in and tried. But the ropes that the peasants possessed were rough and heavy and in no way suited to Edgar’s purpose. In despair, at last he saddled his steed and rode away to the nearest town and purchased one there, returning by a forced march the same day. That same night Peter and he, accompanied by the priest, made their way into the woods surrounding Castle Ruthènes. By a stroke of good fortune the night was a favourable one. Heavy clouds shrouded the light of the moon, and made even the biggest objects loom black and indistinct. A watcher on the walls would need the sharpest eyes to see a figure at the foot, and with the comforting feeling that all was so far going in their favour the two young men took leave of the priest at the edge of the wood and stole across the narrow strip of sward.