"Ay," said the gaoler, "it was woesome to see him when he lay on the rushes in the hall, and felt that he was sinking fast; he took his pennon, and giving it to John de Helennes, said, 'Take this, which is dyed with my best blood, to the lady of my love, by whom it was broidered, and tell her what has befallen me, and that, though I failed to accomplish the vow that kept me from her presence, yet I died with honour in the attempt.' And then," added the gaoler, "he laid his head on the rushes, and died."
Having tasted captivity before, I was in a mood much less doleful than my comrade when I found myself confined to a dingy chamber, and cut off from communication with my countrymen, who were marching with their king in hostile array through the realm of Scotland. But ere long I began to find the confinement as irksome as it was to him, and to concentrate all my faculties on a project of escape. In order to execute it, I perceived the necessity of securing the co-operation of our gaoler.
Now it happened that this man, who went by the name of Roger Redhand, was a native of the country to the south of the Tweed; and having, years before, fled from Northumberland, after some defiance of law which exposed him to danger, he had since found safety as an exile in Scotland. Moreover, he was, though born an enemy of their nation, much trusted by the Scots among whom his lot had fallen; and they had, as a sign and testimony of mutual treaty, gone through the ceremony of drinking with him from a cup in which some drops of their blood were mingled with his, and having by this process become, as they thought, his kinsmen in some degree, believed that they had for ever secured his fidelity.
Nevertheless, I did not by any means despair of working on the patriotism of Roger Redhand; and with great caution I ventured on the experiment. At first, however, my efforts were ineffectual. But I did not, therefore, give up the game; and Salle, whose horror of a man serving the enemies of his country was naturally intense, grew angry at my persevering with a scheme which promised no success.
"Beshrew me, friend," said he roughly, "if it angers me not sorely to condescend to parley and bandy words with that renegade. As well try to bleed a stone as to strike one spark of patriotism in his breast."