Cuthbert bowed courteously.

“Thanks for your words, Sir Hubert.  I had always heard yourself and the knights here spoken of as brave and gallant gentlemen, whose sole fault was that they chose to take part with a rebel prince, rather than with the King of England.  I rejoice that you have cleared your name of so foul a blot as this would have placed upon it, and I acknowledge that your conduct now is knightly and courteous.  But I can no more parley.  The sun is within a few minutes of twelve, and I must surrender, to meet such fate as may befall me.”

So saying, with a bow he left them, and again advanced to the castle gate.

“Sir Rudolph,” he shouted, “the hour is at hand.  I call upon you to deliver, outside the gate, the lady, my mother.  Whether she wills it or not, I call upon you to place her beyond the gate, and I give you my knightly word that as she leaves it I enter it.”

Dame Editha would then have attempted resistance; but she saw that it would be useless.  With a pale face she descended the steps, accompanied by the men-at-arms.  She knew that any entreaty to Sir Rudolph would be vain, and with the courage of her race she mentally vowed to devote the rest of her life to vengeance for her son.

As the gate opened and she was thrust forth, for a moment she found herself in the arms of her son.

“Courage, mother!” he whispered; “all may yet be well.”

Cnut was waiting a few paces behind, and offering his hand to Dame Editha, he led her to the group of archers, while Cuthbert, alone, crossed the drawbridge, and entered the portal, the heavy portcullis falling after him.

Cnut immediately ordering four of his men to escort Dame Editha to the wood with all speed, advanced with his men towards the walls.  All had strung their bows and placed their arrows on the ground in front of them in readiness for instant use.  Cnut himself, with two others carrying the rope, advanced to the edge of the moat.  None observed their doings, for all within the castle were intent upon the proceedings there.

In the courtyard Sir Rudolph had taken his post, with the captain of the mercenaries beside him, and the men-at-arms drawn up in order.  He smiled sardonically as Cuthbert entered.

“So, at last,” he said, “this farce is drawing to an end.  You are in my power, and for the means which I have taken to capture you, I will account to the prince.  You are a traitor to him; you have attacked and slaughtered many of my friends; you are an outlaw defying the law; and for each of these offences your head is forfeited.”

“I deny,” Cuthbert said, standing before him, “your right to be my judge.  By my peers only can I be tried.  As a knight of England and as rightful lord of this castle, I demand to be brought before a jury of my equals.”

“I care nothing for rights or for juries,” said Sir Rudolph.  “I have the royal order for your execution, and that order I shall put into effect, although all the knights and barons in England objected.”