“With all my soul!” said the knight, laughing. “I can pay my keeping in blows or gold as you prefer.” The friar presently returned and drew up a small table near the fire. “Now, Sir Knight,” quoth he, “put off your sword and helm and such other war-gear as it pleases you, and help me lay this table, for I am passing hungry.” The knight did as he was told, and put aside the visor which had hid his face. He was a bronzed and bearded man with blue eyes, and hair shot with gold, haughty but handsome withal. Then once again the priest sat him down to his pasty and mulled wine, right hopefully. He spoke his grace with some haste, and was surprised to hear his guest respond fittingly in the Latin tongue. Then they attacked the wine and pasty valiantly, and the Black Knight made good his word of being in need of refreshment. Tuck looked ruefully at the rapidly disappearing food, but came to grudge it not, by reason of the stories with which his guest enlivened the meal. The wine and warmth of the room had cheered them both, and they were soon laughing uproariously as the best of comrades in the world. The Black Knight, it seemed, had traveled everywhere. He had been on crusades, had fought the courteous Saladin, had been in prison, and often in peril. But now he spoke of it lightly, and laughed it off, and made himself so friendly that Friar Tuck was like to choke with merriment. So passed the time till late; and the two fell asleep together, one on each side of the table which had been cleared to the platters. In the morning Friar Tuck awoke disposed to be surly, but was speedily mollified by the sight of the Black Knight, who had already risen gay as a lark, washed his face and hands, and was now stirring a hot gruel over the fire. “By my faith, I make a sorry host!” cried Tuck springing to his feet. And later as they sat at breakfast, he added, “I want not your gold, of which you spoke last night; but instead I will do what I can to speed you on your way whenever you wish to depart.” “Then tell me,” said the knight, “how I may find Robin Hood the outlaw; for I have a message to him from the King. All day yesterday I sought him, but found him not.” Friar Tuck lifted up his hands in holy horror. “I am a lover of peace, Sir Knight, and do not consort with Robin’s bold fellows.” “Nay, I think no harm of Master Hood,” said the knight; “but much I yearn to have speed with him in mine own person.” “If that be all, mayhap I can guide you to his haunts,” said Tuck, who foresaw in this knight a possible gold-bag for Robin. “In sooth, I could not well live in these woods without hearing somewhat of the outlaws; but matters of religion are my chief joy and occupation.” “I will go with you, brother,” said the Black Knight. So without more ado they went their way into the forest, the knight riding upon his charger, and Tuck pacing along demurely by his side.