"Whereas, by the grace of the blessed Saint Hilary, Sir Oliver Lysle, thy husband, hath fallen into my hands, be it known that this is my will and pleasure: Him will I have and hold until a ransom of ten thousand crowns be paid for the release of the said Sir Oliver. It is my request that this sum be paid on or before the eve of the Feast of the blessed Saint Silvester, failing which Sir Oliver must suffer death." Twice the châtelaine read the missive, then, turning to the squire, she asked— "Knowest aught of this letter?" "Nay, fair lady, though I wot 'tis of cold comfort." "How came Sir Oliver to be taken?" "By stealth, madame. They of Malevereux seized him as he lay abed in a hostel on the road 'twixt Rouen and Taillemartel. Me they also took, but the Tyrant set me free in order that I might bear tidings to Warblington." "And did Sir Oliver charge thee by word of mouth?" "Yea, 'twas thus:—'Present my humblest respects to my dear lady, thy mistress, and say that not a groat is to be paid as ransom for me.' No more, no less." "That I will bear in mind," replied the châtelaine resolutely. "Meanwhile I must devise some answer to this Tyrant of Malevereux. Hast promise of safe conduct?" "The word of the Lord of Malevereux is but a poor bond, sweet lady. Yet, since I have his promise, I will right willingly take the risk." "'Tis well. Now to return to the castle. Arnold, see to the ordering of the men-at-arms, the archers, and the tenants. Let them have their feast, e'en though it be a sad one. Simeon, see to it that the _Grâce à Dieu_ is warped up to the quay at high tide, and take steps to set a goodly store of provisions on board, since to France thou must sail once more. Now, Oswald, bear me company, for there is much on which I must question thee." All this time Geoffrey had been a silent yet eager listener. Already he had grasped the main points of the situation, and, quick to act, he had made up his mind that the time had come for the son of Sir Oliver Lysle to prove himself worthy of the ancient and honourable name. "Tell me all thou knowest concerning this Tyrant of Malevereux, Oswald," began Lady Bertha, as the châtelaine and the two lads gained the comparative seclusion of the hall. "He is the most puissant rogue in all Normandy, ay, in the whole of France," replied the squire. "Though I perceive he has written in a courteous style, worthy of a knight of Christendom, he is but a base robber and oppressor of the poor, and a treacherous enemy to all true gentlemen of coat armour. He hath declared that he fears neither God, man, nor devil, yet withal he is of a craven disposition, and full of superstitious fears." "It is said that on one day of the year he throws open his Castle of Malevereux to all who would fain partake of his hospitality?"