Men were coming down the lane with a rattle of arms. Someone knocked at the door. “Who’s there?” “Wat and John Ball.” Merlin nodded Guy towards the door. He dropped the bar, and they came crowding in—men whose hands were bloody and whose throats were dry. “Why bitest thou thy beard, St. Francis?” “Saints, is the man hungry? Here is good Father John who has not touched a crust.” Merlin caught Wat by the shoulder. “I’m in no mood for your clowning when the lords have made fools of us all.” “Good sir, I think not.” “Bah! a few old men butchered! Come, hear news!” He dragged Wat to the far end of the long room where the fire burnt on the hearth. Jack Straw and John Ball joined them, and the rest of the men were for crowding up. Merlin flapped his long arms at them. “Back! We want no gossips here.” They shouted for the innkeeper. “What has befallen old Pot Harry?” “He has fled.” “But left his cellar behind him! Down, brothers, down among the hogsheads.” They crowded, shouting, into a narrow passage, leaving Merlin, Wat the Tiler, Jack Straw, and John Ball alone. Guy tramped to and fro, twisting his moustaches. The voices by the fire grew angry and querulous. “What! A stuffed King?” “He had fettle enough to fool us of forty thousand men. They went, at his bidding, bleating like sheep.” “This is a fool’s tale. I’d not give a groat for it.” “The wench, Isoult, knows whether it be the truth or a lie.” “Where is the woman?” “Above, in the attic.” “Have her down. We’ll make her speak.” Merlin turned to Guy. “Bid her come.” Guy climbed the ladder stair, and forced up the trap-door with one hand. His head disappeared through the opening. “Isoult, Father Merlin has need of you.” He climbed down, and stood looking up with a grin on his face. There was no light but the light of the fire and the flare of a torch burning in a cresset. Isoult’s red dress showed on the stairs. She descended them slowly, gathering her skirt up with one hand. The men by the fire stared at her. Their faces looked gaunt and shadowy. Merlin was licking his lips. “My sister, the truth lies with you. Friend Guy has used his eyes. Speak!” She stood before them in all her comeliness. “What truth, Merlin?” “Tsst! You know well. The King they sent out to us is no King.” She looked at him, and shrugged her shoulders. “Is Guy never thirsty?” “No fencing. Speak out. Was it Fulk Ferrers you saw on the white horse?” He went near, stooping, and staring her in the face. “Fulk Ferrers?” “Yes—Fulk Ferrers.” She spread her hands. “Are my eyes quicker than yours? You should know.” “A woman’s eyes look deep.” “Mine saw a King.” He snarled impatiently. “That will not serve. Answer me. Was it Fulk Ferrers?” She answered him calmly. “No.” Merlin flung out his arms, and his mouth worked. “A lie—by the Book, a lie!” “The father knoweth his children. I have answered you.” Jack Straw sidled up, drawing a knife from its sheath.