“Good,” said the knight, pulling up his steed, and taking his bugle-horn from his belt as to sound a blast. However, he did not blow the round notes, but gave a low, peculiar whistle, which brought a man from among the trees. It was one of those obscure nights common in the month of May, and the moon affording but a dim light, the knight could not make out the figure of the person who approached. “Friend or foe?” cried Collingham. “The Black Raven,” was the reply; and as the man drew near the knight and Wolf recognised Styr the Saxon. “All right?” said Collingham. “All is right,” replied the Saxon. “We have nothing to do but commend ourselves to the saints and proceed to the work before us.” “In God’s name, then, let it so be,” said the knight. “Summon the men who are assembled, and let us to the business. By this hour, I doubt not,” added he, “that the drunken governor is going through his nocturnal exercises.” Collingham, as he spoke, dismounted, gave his horse into the care of Wolf, and getting under the shadow of the trees, kept humming the song of “I go to the Greenwood, for Love invites me,” till Styr returned with a hundred men at his back, all armed, and prepared to attack or resist foes just as occasion should arise. Some of them were simply peasants, others fighting men in the knight’s pay; but most of them were neither more nor less than forest outlaws. Each of them was dressed in a short green kirtle, hose of the same colour, a leathern cap or head-piece, and armed with a short sword, a horn slung over his shoulder, a long bow in his hand, and a bunch of arrows in his belt. A formidable band it was, though not numerous, and destined ere long, when increased tenfold, to be celebrated by minstrels as holding out bravely against the invader, when all others fled before his sword or crouched at his feet. At the time of which I write the existence of Collingham’s band was not even known to the French. Ere twelve months passed over, the cry of the Black Raven was more terrible to Louis and his captains than an army with banners. “All is ready,” was the reply. “Then let us proceed, in the name of God and good St. Edward,” said the knight, and he moved towards the entrance of the subterranean passage by which Pedro the page--or, rather, Wolf the varlet--had escaped. Taking Wolf with him to act as a guide, and leaving a band of six picked men to keep guard at the mouth, Collingham, having ordered all the briars and stones to be cleared away from the entrance, caused a number of torches to be lighted.