“Nevertheless we may well make ourselves watchdogs for tonight,” said Paul.  “If evil is meant against the girl, this is the last chance that bold Devil’s Own, as they call him, will have of getting her into his power.  They all call him a desperate fellow, and he will know that after the hard day’s toil to have all in readiness for the morrow the household will sleep sound tonight.  Why, even the maid had sleeping draught of spiced wine given her by her mother, that she might look her best in her bridal kirtle tomorrow.  I think they all pledged themselves in the same bowl.

“I warrant there will be no watchers but ourselves tonight.  What say you to look to our weapons and take the task upon ourselves?”

Edward’s eyes gave ready response.  What youths do not love the idea of facing the foe, and outwitting the cowardly cunning of those who have planned an attack upon a sleeping household?  Paul thought he had been right now in fancying the house watched; but probably the hope of the watchers had rather been to find and carry off the girl than to take vengeance upon himself.  He understood it all now, and was eager to defeat them a second time.

The nights were almost at their longest now, and the cold was very great; but the watchers piled fresh logs upon the fire, and talked quietly to each other as they sat in the dancing glow—­for the rushlight had long since gone out.  Midnight had passed.  All was intensely still, and sleep seemed disposed to steal upon their senses in spite of their resolution to banish his presence.  Paul was just about to suggest to his companion that he should lie down awhile on the bed and indulge in a nap, whilst he himself kept watch alone, when the prince laid a hand upon his arm, and gripped him tight in a fashion which told that his quick ears had heard something.

The next moment Paul heard the same himself—­stealthy sounds as of approaching footsteps, which paused beneath the window and then seemed to steal round the house.  It was useless to look out of the window, for the night was dark as pitch, and they themselves might be seen; but they glanced at each other, and Paul whispered excitedly: 

“It is to Mistress Joan’s room they will find their way.  I heard a sound as though a ladder was being brought out.  They will climb to her window, force it open, and carry her away.

“Hark! that was the whinny of a horse.  They are mounted, and think to baffle pursuit by their speed and knowledge, of the wood.  There is no time to lose.  Call up the farmer and his son.  I know which is Mistress Joan’s room.  I will keep guard there till you come.”

Paul knew every inch of the house by heart; but Edward was less familiar with its winding passages and crooked stairs.  However, he knew the position of the rooms occupied by the farmer and his son, and groped his way thither; whilst Paul, with more certain step, sped lightly along another passage toward the room in which he knew Joan slept, not far from the serving wenches, but by no means near the men of the place.