"That's right, I knew I could trust you, Simon. I am hungry though,
and by all the saints in the calendar, I am sore and stiff as well. I
am injured, too, for my horse fell down with me and crushed my leg."

"You look it, my lord, and worse," exclaimed Dame Greenwood. "You look
badly hurt."

"Ah, my own fault, my own fault; I have been a fool. Eustace himself
could not have ridden worse. Where is Eustace, I have not seen him
yet?"

Simon looked inquiringly at his better half, and to his discomfiture,
she stolidly returned the glance. Neither of them appeared to know
anything of his whereabouts. In the scuffle and worry of the time he
had been forgotten, and they had to make the best defence they could.

"Methinks he is paying a visit to some fair damsel of the town, Sir
Henry, with his dulcimer," suggested the dame. "I saw him with the
music some while before the gates were closed."

"He was prating this and that to me, my lord," added Simon, who found
his tongue at length, "until I threatened to whip him. He sneaked away
quick enough then, ha, ha!"

"Ha, ha!" laughed the knight, as he divested himself, with Simon's
aid, of his riding coat, "he would order thee about, eh? But, by my
faith, man, I am hungry, I swear. I am quite ready to sup when I have
seen my prisoners."