What a plight!

“Give soft words,” said the old huntsman, who rode on the right hand of our friend Ralph, “or we shall be stuck with quills like porcupines.”

But Ralph was hot headed, and threw a lance at the old outlaw, giving, at the same time, the order: 

“Charge up the banks, and clear the woods of the vermin.”

The dart missed Grimbeard, and immediately the deadly shower which the old man had so keenly apprehended descended upon the exposed and ill-fated group, who, for their sins, were commanded by so mad a leader.

A terrific scene ensued.  The horses, stung by the arrows, reared, pranced, and rushed away in headlong flight down the stony entangled road; throwing their riders in most eases, or dashing their heads against the low overhanging branches of the oaks.  Half the Normans were soon on the ground.  The outlaws charged:  the lane became a shambles, a slaughter house.

Ralph and two or three more still fought desperately, but with little hope, when there appeared the sudden vision of a grey friar, who thrust himself between the knight and Grimbeard, who were fighting with their axes.

“Hold, for the love of God!  Accursed be he who strikes another blow.”

“Thou hast saved the old villain’s life, grey friar,” said mad Ralph, parrying a stroke of Grimbeard’s axe, but this was but a bootless boast, for the conflict was not one with knightly weapons, but with those of the forest.  The train of Herstmonceux were but equipped for the hunt and in such weapons as they possessed the outlaws were far better versed than they, for with boar spear or hunting knife they often faced the rush of wolf or boar.

“Martin!  Boy, thou hast saved the young fop.

“Dost thou yield, Norman, to ransom?”

“Yea, for I can do no better, but if this reverend young father will but stand by and see fair play, I would sooner fight it out.”

“Dead men pay no ransom, and they are not good to eat, or I might gratify thee.  As it is I prefer thee alive.”

Then he cried aloud: 

“Secure the prisoners.  Blindfold them, then take them to the camp.”

The fight was over.  The prisoners, five in number, were blindfolded, and in that condition led into the camp of the outlaws; Martin keeping close by their side, intent upon preventing any further violence from being offered, if he could avert it.

Arrived at the camp, the captives were consigned to a rough cabin of logs.  Their bandages were removed; a guard was placed before the door, and they were left to their meditations.

They were only, as we have said, five in number.  Six had escaped.  The others lay dead on the scene of the conflict.

Meanwhile, Ralph was puzzling his brains as to where he had seen the grey friar before, who had so opportunely arrived at the scene of conflict.  He inquired of his companions, but their wits were so discomposed by their circumstances and by apprehensions, too well founded, for their own throats, that they were in no wise able to assist his memory.  Nor indeed could they have done so under any circumstances.