As he strode on his way before the supposed friar, Front-de-Boeuf thus schooled him in the part which he desired he should act. "Thou seest, sir friar, yon herd of Saxon swine who have dared to environ this castle of Torquilstone. Tell them whatever thou hast a mind of the weakness of this [v]fortalice, or aught else that can detain them before it for twenty-four hours. Meantime bear this scroll--but soft--canst thou read, sir priest?" "Not a jot I," answered Cedric, "save on my [v]breviary; and then I know the characters because I have the holy service by heart, praised be Saint Withold!" "The fitter messenger for my purpose. Carry thou this scroll to the castle of Philip de [v]Malvoisin; say it cometh from me and is written by the Templar, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and that I pray him to send it to York with all speed man and horse can make. Meanwhile, tell him to doubt nothing he shall find us whole and sound behind our battlement. Shame on it, that we should be compelled to hide thus by a pack of runagates who are wont to fly even at the flash of our pennons and the tramp of our horses! I say to thee, priest, contrive some cast of thine art to keep the knaves where they are until our friends bring up their lances." With these words, Front-de-Boeuf led the way to a postern where, passing the moat on a single plank, they reached a small barbican, or exterior defense, which communicated with the open field by a well-fortified sally-port. "Begone, then; and if thou wilt do mine errand, and 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 good wine as would drench thy whole convent." "Assuredly we shall meet again," answered Cedric. "Something in the hand the whilst," continued the Norman; and, as they parted at the postern door, he thrust in Cedric's reluctant hand a gold [v]byzant, adding, "Remember, I will flay off both cowl and skin if thou failest in thy purpose." The supposed priest passed out of the door without further words. Front-de-Boeuf turned back within the castle. "Ho! Giles jailer," he called, "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 flavor of bacon. Give me a stoop of wine, as jolly Prince John would say, that I may wash away the relish. Place it in the armory, and thither lead the prisoners."